After a few seconds of rubbing my eyes, I realize it’s the doorbell. Someone is pressing the button incessantly. The sound echoes in my ears, and I press the palms of my hands to shutter the noise.
It’s bearable now but it doesn’t stop.
I kick the covers off me and stomp across the hallway. If some food delivery person is insistent on a tip, I’m going to give him one he’ll remember. He’ll think twice about ringing someone’s doorbell like it’s a videogame controller.
I throw open the door and open my mouth to tell him to fuck right off, but the words die on my lips.
Sage is standing there with her arms crossed, looking just as pissed off as I’m feeling right now. Maybe angrier.
A thousand emotions roll through me, including indignation, disbelief, and shame.
Shame wins.
“What do you want?”
Her eyes quickly drop to my bare feet and back up again. “I came to see if you’re okay.”
“And you thought ringing my doorbell like a lunatic would be the way to do that?”
She raises her eyebrow. “You opened the door, didn’t you?”
Her playfulness doesn’t move me. I’m too embarrassed right now. “You should go.”
“I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Then, let’s catch up.”
I narrow my eyes. “Catch up?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
“I don’t know if you’re trying to be insensitive on purpose or not, so I’ll just save you the trouble. I don’t want to talk to you or to anyone else. You got that? Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?”
She steps back and inhales sharply as though my words struck her painfully. And perhaps they did. It’s not the answer she had expected, I’m sure. But it’s the truth. She should know that I’m not the man she once knew. I’m this broken has-been who doesn’t even know who he is anymore. I rub my hand over my face and take a deep breath. “You should go.”
“I’m not going to leave you.”
Her words feel like a punch in the stomach I wasn’t ready for. She doesn’t mean that. She has no idea who I am now. She thinks she’s here for Casey Tucker, the boy whose poster she had taped on her bedroom wall. But he doesn’t exist anymore.
“You should leave me.” I close the door and walk away. I pretend that I don’t see the look of pain strike across her face.
I go back to bed, pull the covers over my head and close my eyes. Except, sleep doesn’t come this time. My body trembles beneath the covers, and despite the warm cocoon I’ve built, I feel cold and empty inside. I feel hollow. As though I know I look likethe same Casey Tucker on the outside, but there’s nothing of him left inside of me.
I squeeze my eyes, willing for blissful sleep to take over, but my heart is racing too much, and anger fills my veins.
Only I’m not sure whom I’m angry with.
I replay the moment the ball cracks off the bat. I imagine myself taking one step, just one tiny step to the right, and watching the ball fly past me. It lands in the second baseman’s glove and the batter is out. Inning over. Game over. I never hurt myself. I play another game. We win the National League Championship and then the World Series. We win it all. All my dreams come true.
I imagine it because it’s all I can do. It will never happen.
Finally, after hours of lying in bed, tears streaming down my face, I pass out.
*
The next morning, I wake up to silence. My eyes flutter open and I look outside my window. It’s light outside even though it’s a bit cloudy. I check my phone, but there are no messages. A part of me hoped I would get an angry text from Sage saying how disgusting my behavior was yesterday and how I deserve to have nobody care about me.
