The frustration of a lackluster training session combined with overthinking about that message is messing with me. Unwelcome, complicated feelings swirl in my head as I finish my shower. Turning off the water, I grab a towel and dry off, then I swipe on some deodorant and throw on a Blue Crabs tee and a pair of athletic shorts.
When I head back into the locker room, Lincoln and Rodriguez are there with Beauchamp, gathering their things. I nod at them and grab my bag, ready to leave.
“We were thinking of taking the rookie out to Marnock tonight to grab some drinks and try to score with the ladies, you in?” Lincoln asks.
“You know he’s not,” Rodriguez says before I have a chance to respond. “He’s in full chastity mode until we make the playoffs.” He elbows Beauchamp and explains, “Jordan takes the same vow every year.”
My teammates think I’m superstitious about remaining celibate during the season, and that’s fair enough because I do like to stick to my rituals. But if I’m being honest, it’s easier to play along with their assumption than to explain the truth. I don’t want to deal with other people’s judgments about my life. If Shelley calls again, I’ll do what I promised and try to answer her, but I doubt anything I say can make any kind of difference.
“Yeah, I’m out. Don’t have too much fun, Rookie. We have a game tomorrow.” I put on a hat and give them a two-finger salute as I leave.
When I get home, Mike’s sitting on the floor of our living room taping up moving boxes. He greets me with a grunt. I nod and shove my gear into the small coat-closet-slash-pantry. Our apartment’s front door opens right into our kitchen, with the tiny living area on the other side of the island. I lean against the counter and stare down at my friend.
“How’s the packing going?”
“It’s taking forever, but it’s fine.”
“Do we have any of that soup left from The Blue Crab? I’m starving.”
Mike shrugs, so I head to the fridge to check for myself. Thankfully, there is still a little bit in there. I pour a bowl and cover it with a paper towel before I pop it in the microwave. Then I turn back to him. “You need help with these boxes tonight?”
“Nah, I got it.” He sits up straight and runs a hand through his hair while he looks at me. I know that face. He wantssomething. “Can I ask you a different favor, though? It’s a big one.”
Called it.
“Depends what it is. No way I’m agreeing outright. The last time you asked me this question we ended up singing a duet in the Brew-Ha-Ha Valentine’s Day karaoke contest.” There was way too much choreography involved, and I had to wrap a sheet around me like a diaper and shoot foam arrows at the audience while pretending to be Cupid. “I’m not falling for an ask like that again.”
“Fair.” He nods and resumes closing the packed box in front of him while he says, “There’s a change in the Foxhounds’ schedule. I need to travel to New York a few days before the wedding.” The packing tape squeaks as he drags it across the cardboard before adding, “But the Crabs are off that Thursday.”
“I know. I’m on Best Man duty for the whole week. You want me to pick up the rings or something? Just tell me what you need, man.” How hard can a wedding errand be?
Mike takes a breath and looks up at me again, setting the tape down on top of the box. “Could you drive out to D.C. and pick up Michelle after her morning class lets out?”
I drum my fingers on the counter. “Nobody else is available?” I wince at myself as his face pinches. He looks like a kicked puppy. Note to self, maybe sharing a digital calendar with my roommate wasn’t the best idea. He knows I’m free, and I have no realistic excuse to offer, but hours alone with his sister right after she asked me if I’d mentor her about her sex questions seems like an epically bad plan. I know I pissed her off with my first response, then her second set of questions left me spinning out for my own reasons.
“Shelley doesn’t have a car,” he pleads. Of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t need one in the city. But it’s not like there is any public transit that comes all the way out to North Bay,and hiring a car to drive that far would be insanely expensive. Somebody needs to get her. “Danielle and her crew have wedding stuff to do here in town all week. The rest of my family is flying into Richmond on Friday. They’re renting a car, and they did say they could go up and get her, then make the drive back down here, but…”
“That wouldn’t make a ton of sense,” I concede.
“Exactly, it would be asking my parents to do hours of driving in the wrong direction after a cross-country flight. And if their flight is delayed at all it will screw up the whole plan.”
He's right. Washington D.C. traffic is notoriously bad. Plus, we’re supposed to get some pretty big storms rolling through over the next few days. The ten-day forecast says the weather should clear up by the end of the week in time for the wedding, but if anything veers off schedule, even slightly, it could derail things for his whole family. Someone does need to go pick up Shelley before the rest of his family gets in, and it’s pretty obvious that person should be me.
Mike looks at me, the guilt seeping out of his pores. He knows this road trip will take up my entire day. It’s a three-hour drive from North Bay to D.C. in each direction on a good day.
I feel a slow burn spreading up the back of my neck as a bead of sweat rolls down my spine. I should probably fess up and tell him what happened, but then again, Shelley’s medical secrets aren’t mine to share. Besides, it’s not like I acquired this knowledge on purpose. And who wants to hear details like that about their siblings?
“Yeah. I’ll get her. No big deal.” What’s a little road trip trapped in the car with my best friend’s sister and her sex questions? I can survive a few hours.
Mike lets out a long, relieved breath. “Thanks, man. That’s huge.”
I graze my bottom lip with my teeth and turn to take the soup out of the microwave, testing a spoonful to see if it’s warm enough.
“We have hotel rooms booked for my family on Friday and through the weekend. But do you think she could sleep here Thursday night?” he adds.
I spit the soup in my mouth down the front of my shirt. He wants her to sleep here, too? While he’s out of town?
“You okay?”
