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cart filled with even more bananas that I was going to put on the top of the mountain.
    â€œYes, ma’am, we have bananas and—,” I turned around. It was my mother, standing there with a big goofy smile on her face.
    â€œMom!”
    She started giggling. I always came home and told her about the stupid questions I was asked by customers.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    She pointed at the cart at her side. It was practically overflowing with groceries. “I thought I could shop and then offer you a drive home after your shift is over.”
    â€œThat would be great. My legs are really sore and tired.”
    â€œYou must have moved a lot of bananas today,” she said.
    â€œI did. I moved ninety-six boxes, which is 9,600 individual bananas. But that’s not what got me so tired. Tony had me working my lower body.”
    â€œTony?” she said.
    â€œHe’s our team’s strength coach.”
    â€œYour team has a strength coach?” she asked in disbelief.
    â€œYeah, isn’t that incredible?”
    â€œIt’s something,” she said.
    â€œHe’s only here for the summer. Normally he just works with the pros. Do you know he’s Jessie McCarthy’s personal trainer?”
    â€œWho’s she?” Mom asked.
    â€œShe? Jessie McCarthy isn’t a girl. He’s a professional foot —”
    She started laughing again and I knew she’d just been putting me on. “I know who he is,” she said. “So why would this Tony come here to work with some high school kids lifting weights?”
    â€œCoach Barnes arranged it. He can arrange anything. Besides, it’s not just weight training. He’s working out an individual training plan for us that includes diet and food supplements and—that reminds me, you don’t have to buy vitamins. They provide it all.”
    â€œThat’s good. Now if I could just get them to pay for your groceries,” my mother said. “By the way, guess who dropped into the bank today.”
    I knew in my head it could have been any of dozens of people, but my heart gave another answer—my dad. He hadn’t lived with us for almost nine years, and I hadn’t even seen him for eight, but that thought still popped into my head. Sometimes I thought Isaw him on street corners or in stores as we passed by.
    I remembered the night he left. The yelling and screaming and crying. The holes in the wall that he’d made with his fists—holes that weren’t fixed for a year after that. I thought my mother left them there to remind her.
    The yelling and the tears weren’t uncommon. None of it was. That time, though, he left and didn’t come back. He still came around and saw me a couple of times a week and took me out. Then he moved out of town. There were letters and phone calls at first and then nothing. Nothing for the last seven years.
    My father loved football. He played for his high school. When I was playing I sometimes pretended that he was up in the stands watching. Who knows, maybe he was. The crowds were pretty big. More likely he wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have read about what I was doing. Maybe he’d read that our team won the championship and that I was the MVP.
    â€œThat Coach Barnes of yours came into the bank today,” my mother said.
    â€œWhat was he doing there?”
    â€œHe was opening an account, but it looked like he was running for mayor the way he was shaking hands and greeting people.”
    â€œHe’s pretty good with people. Did you talk to him?”
    â€œHe made a point of coming over to talk to me. He certainly has a lot of teeth, and they’re very white, unnaturally white.”
    â€œWhat did you talk about?” I asked.
    â€œYou and football.”
    â€œWhat did he have to say?”
    â€œHe had nothing but good things to say. He certainly knows a great deal about you and