Martha Upshaw gazed out the window. It was five thirty in the afternoon, and if nothing had gone wrong, Zeke should have been coming home about now. If he was in a good mood, he'd bring his good friend Link along, too.
Martha liked to look out the window at this time of day. Whenever she spotted Upshaw or that boy Link, she'd head straight outside and give the two dream-chasing boys a good, solid hug.
Sadly, Martha would never get to wait for that moment again. Her son would never come home. He would remain forever on the basketball court.
At the thought, Martha's eyes reddened again. The grief of a parent outliving their child wasn't easily soothed. Zeke's passing had left their already shattered family even more broken.
Years ago, her husband had left the family because of drug dealing. Martha had struggled to raise her two children, only for Upshaw to leave them, too, in an accident.
Now, all that remained of the family were Martha and Zeke's sister, Randall. Martha was no longer young, and Randall was still in high school. The family had lost its two men, its pillars. What would they do from now on? The Black housewife had no idea.
Turn to relatives? The families living in this neighborhood weren't doing any better. Martha's brother had died in a gang shootout years ago. Her uncle had lived an honest life, but working at a gas station, he could barely support his own family.
Martha wiped away her tears and went on making dinner. Randall would be home from school soon, and she didn't want her daughter to see her crying and weak.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Just then, Martha heard someone at the door. Still wearing her apron, she went to answer it. But when she opened the door, she found that the person standing outside wasn't her daughter.
It was Upshaw's best friend, the yellow-skinned boy Martha thought of as her own son: Link.
"Link? Isn't the team playing in Texas today?" Martha asked in surprise. Though Upshaw was gone, she still made a habit of keeping up with the Blue Team every morning.
"I don't have to go to Texas, Martha. Actually, I came to say goodbye. I'm going to the NBA again. This time, it's Memphis."
"Oh!" The Black housewife covered her mouth, crying tears of joy. "That's wonderful! Congratulations! Zeke was right—the NBA is where you belong. Keep it up, Link. The Houston team didn't know what they were doing last time. This time, I know you'll make it!"
Martha's hug made Link feel incredibly warm. Before he'd crossed over, Link had already lacked parental affection. And now, because he went to school and played basketball out of town, he rarely got to see his family.
So in Oklahoma, only Upshaw had been able to give Link the warmth of home and make him feel like he belonged.
"By the way, these are Christmas presents for you and Randall. Christmas is coming up, and I might not be able to make it back that day. So I brought the presents over early."
"Link, you shouldn't spend so much money on us." Though she said this, Martha still accepted the gifts.
Martha wasn't being insincere. Americans simply didn't like the whole back-and-forth ritual of refusing a gift. If this had happened in China, they'd have passed the gift back and forth a hundred times before anyone accepted it.
"It's just a little something, Martha. Don't worry. I'll try to get a guaranteed contract in the NBA. And as for Randall, don't let her start working as soon as she graduates from high school. If she gets into college, I'll pay her tuition. You don't have to worry about that."
"I...."
"It's an advance. A loan. She can pay me back once she's working." Before Martha could refuse, Link cut her off.
Of course, Link didn't actually want the Upshaws to pay him back. But if he hadn't called it a loan, Martha would never have accepted his help.
"Stay for dinner. I'll grill some sausages."
"I can't, Martha. I have to head to Memphis tonight, and I've already bought my ticket. There's still a lot I need to take care of, so I'm afraid I can't stay for dinner. Remember to tell Randall that if she gets into college, she doesn't need to worry about tuition."
Link waved and turned to leave. Martha watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
The Black housewife went back inside and continued making dinner. On the surface, it seemed as if nothing had changed.
But in truth, her life had changed completely. At least now, she had hope for the future again.
After saying goodbye to Jon Brockman and Coach Conner as well, Link gathered his few belongings and took a cab to the airport.
This wasn't Link's first time leaving the Blue Team to play in the NBA, but it felt very different from the last time.
Back then, he'd felt nothing but excitement. This time, however, Link was unusually calm.
He knew very well that once he left, he might not be able to return to Oklahoma for a while. His goal was clear: sign a guaranteed contract with the Grizzlies. If he succeeded, he'd have to play with the Grizzlies through the summer. Unless they played the Thunder during that time, he probably wouldn't get many chances to return to this city.
So today, using Christmas as an excuse, he'd said goodbye to all his friends in Oklahoma City.
He wouldn't forget Martha's kindness, Conner's fairness, or Brockman, the opponent and teammate who had made him stronger.
Now that he'd said goodbye to everyone in person, there was no one else he needed to reach out to. Watching the streets fly past outside the car window, Link took out his phone to say goodbye to the last person.
"Don't forget to watch the Grizzlies' games."
A simple message, sent.
Recipient: Rachel Demita.
At 12:34 a.m., Link landed at Memphis International Airport, alone. Memphis wasn't one of the most developed cities in the United States, but Memphis International Airport was the second-largest cargo airport in the world, surpassed only by Hong Kong International Airport.
So even though it was the middle of the night, Memphis International Airport was still bustling with people.
People from all over the world were here, and Memphis's diversity was on full display. Of course, all these people also brought their own mix of social groups and ideologies, and the conflicts that came with them.
"Link, over here!" In the crowd, Link spotted Jeff Austin waving at him. Seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar city put Link at ease at once.
Jeff Austin must have had a tough night. He wasn't young, and Link wasn't his only client. But for Link's sake, he'd come to meet him at the airport in the middle of the night.
That alone made Jeff Austin far more dedicated than Carl Jones.
"Welcome to Memphis, kid! Sorry, I can't show you around the city tonight. Memphis's crime situation has never been great. You'll have plenty of chances to get to know the city later. The car's waiting outside. Let's head straight to the hotel."
Austin greeted Link warmly and explained the situation.
"Crime situation? What do you mean?" Link looked completely confused. After all his years in the United States, he'd only ever heard that certain areas had bad crime problems. For instance, when people talked about Los Angeles, they'd say that the crime situation in Long Beach was bad.
But this was the first time Link had heard an entire city described as dangerous and crime-ridden.
"What do I mean? Exactly what I said. Don't you know Memphis is called 'the most dangerous city in America'? Hahahaha! But don't worry. In Memphis, residents who voluntarily turn in their guns can get free tickets to a few games. So things here are a lot better than they used to be."
"Free tickets for turning in your guns!? How desperate do you have to be to come up with something like that?"
Link swallowed. This city on the banks of the Mississippi River seemed far more complicated than he'd imagined.
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