“Yes.”
He stares at me and I know there’s more he wants to say. Although this conversation makes me uncomfortable as thethought of losing my friends scares me to death, I want to know what he’s holding back. So, I wait.
But he shuts down and takes a large gulp of his drink. “I just think you’re making a mistake. You should at least meet with them. You don’t need to babysit me. You should go to New York.”
I know his words are meant to encourage me, to help me, but I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to get rid of me. “I said I’m not going to New York, so just drop it, okay?”
He puts down his cup and stares across the room. “Okay.”
I sigh and feel like I’ve completely lost track of the why I came here in the first place. Baseball.
“There’s a game on TV. Do you want to watch it?”
He shrugs but it’s not a ‘no’. I take it as a victory and turn on the television. Ironically, the Pelicans are playing the Angels, and the coincidence isn’t lost on me. A mysterious grin plays on Casey’s face, and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking.
But Casey simply sits down on the velvety couch, legs sprawled apart, and one hand still holding his cup. I sit next to him and curl my feet beside me.
It’s the seventh inning and the Angels’ pitcher is on the mound. Casey is watching the game with an intensity I haven’t seen since I arrived in L.A. He fixes his eyes to the television and his hand holding the cup drops to his thigh. I’m mesmerized by the look on his face, jealous of the game if I’m honest with myself. It captivates him, like no one else is in the room with him. It feels as though baseball is his mistress. He’s staring at the television, studying the movements of the pitcher and a look of pure joy crosses his face when he strikes the batter out.
I realize baseball is not his mistress.
No. It’s his first love.
Everyone else in Casey’s life is the mistress. Baseball grips his attention. It makes him happy. It transforms him like no oneelse can. It reaches into this soul and holds a place in his heart that I wonder if anyone could ever reach.
I turn away, so as not to show the pain in my eyes. But I shouldn’t have worried, Casey’s attention is not divided. It is solely in front of him.
After realizing that this is my pride talking, I watch the game with him. I lean back onto the couch, and remember why I love it, too. It’s one of the hardest sports to play, and yet some players make it look so easy.
As I sit there next to Casey, I lose myself in the game, too. I smile when the pitcher strikes out the next batter and grin when he makes him swing at an obvious ball. It’s magic when you truly appreciate it.
I’m so lost in the game that I almost miss it. It’s so soft and gentle that it’s nearly imperceptible. But his hand, strong and muscular, finds mine. He slips his fingers through and holds my hand tightly. A silent tear falls down my cheek, but I don’t dare let go to wipe it away.
22
Sage
Rifling through my hotel room closet, I wish I had stepped out yesterday and bought a blazer. Everyone knows that a blazer is what people wear for interviews.
The golden moon and star pendants hang from my necklace, and I pat them down to straighten them. Fortunately, I brought this flower motif blouse even though it clashes with the sunflower skirt beneath it, but no one will see the skirt on camera.
I don’t know why I’m fretting about the interview anyway. It’s not like I want the job. I promised Professor Fox that I would do it, and it would be rude of me to decline.
Resigned, I check the camera and microphone on my laptop, and both are in working order.
I push my hair off my shoulders, but it just falls back again. So, I reach for a scrunchie on the bedside table and tie my curls back. There. That’s better.
I have two minutes until it’s time to log in. While I check my teeth through the camera, I see my messy bed in the background. Quickly, I rotate the laptop until it’s just the curtains and an armchair in sight.
Inhaling deeply, I check the time and log in.
No one is on the call yet, so I wait patiently, despite the adrenaline racing through my veins.
Relax, Sage. There’s no reason to be nervous.
I rub my worry stone to calm myself, and I finally feel my heartbeat slowing down.
Just in time, as Professor Fox has logged in. “Good morning, Ms. Summers. How are you?”
