“What?” she asks, scrunching up her nose.
“Fear of missing out,” I explain.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Daisy says.
“Oh, really? Then what’s your hypothesis?”
“He’s intimidated by you, Colin.”
“Intimidated?Why on earth would you think that?”
She doesn’t answer right away. “Look at you, Colin. I know you’re having a rough day, but try and look beyond this moment. You’re smart, successful, funny, kind. You’re financially stable, good at your job, and you could have any woman in America,” she says.
“Right. Except, as I see it, I’m a washed-up, divorced has-been,” I counter.
“You’re wrong, honey. Try to imagine what it’s like to be Gordon. He’s your age, no wife, no girlfriend, no family. The guy barely has any friends,” she says.
“A personality adjustment would help.”
“True. But still.”
“Still what? All he does is kiss my dad’s ass all the time.”
“Also true. But you know that’s only because his dad’s gone.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know that.”
“Pancreatic cancer. He died when Gordon was in middle school.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“He told me. Long time ago. I thought you knew.”
“Nope,” I say.
“So, like I said. Intimidated. To him, you’ve got everything.” She shrugs and looks out the window.
This new information makes me feel like a dick.
When we get to the field, Dom, Richie, Courtney, Raoul, Rachel, Jess, and Mark are warming up, and on the bench along the third base line, Gordy is sitting on an inflatable donut.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say aloud. He turns, and I want to smack myself for being too loud. “What’s up, man?” I say, intentionally louder.Good save, Colin. Real smooth.
“Not much,” he replies. “Just came to support the team.”
Like half a jock strap—since you only have one good testicle, I think,making myself laugh on the inside.God, stop being such an asshole. Leave the poor guy alone, my conscience tells me. “Nice,” I say. “How’re you feeling?”
“Okay, considering,” he says. “The good news is my fertility won’t be impacted.”
I nod, unable to come up with a normal response. My head is a minefield of adolescent jokes. I try to push them aside. “Did you have to get a tetanus shot?”
He shakes his head. “Just antibiotics. Did you know that number two pencils are not made with lead?”
“Oh, yeah?” I say.
“Graphite,” he replies with a thumbs-up.
“Guess you dodged a real bullet there.”
