Sammy hung up and jogged downstairs to the door. He and Seth did a half hug, half backslap.
“How was New York?” Seth took off his jacket and Sammy hung it up.
“Fine, I guess. It’s big.”
“Okaaay…” Seth raised his eyebrows, but didn’t pursue the statement. “I stopped in at the bakery. Elaine and Jim have a picture of you and Robin with your winning trophy displayed on the counter.”
Sammy rubbed his temple. “Second place.”
“What’s that?”
“We placed second, not a winning trophy.” He led Seth into the living room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch.
“The looks on your faces could have fooled me.”
“Mind if I put the TV on? There’s a rerun of Monday night’s game.” He flipped the channels until he found ESPN. Onscreen, the Minnesota Timberwolves battled it out against the Dallas Mavericks.
“Look, Seth, why did you really come by?”
“I haven’t seen you around. I’m wondering what happened in New York. I’m concerned for my friend.”
“We took second place. Robin moved back to France. I came home. What’s to tell?” He rubbed at the spot on his chest again.
“Not fooling me, man.” The fans roared as the Mavs scored a point.
“Fine. I thought we had something going, you know? Robin is really, really special. I thought maybe she felt the same way about me.”
“But she doesn’t? Too bad. She asks you to come all the way to New York and then drops you?”
Yeah, that sounded bad. Except… “It wasn’t exactly like that.” Sammy found himself telling Seth the details of his trip. Clearing his throat, he added, “She chose France over me.”
“Sounds to me that she needed to try again over there. Maybe redeem some of the bad memories from when she had to leave.”
“I suppose.”
“If you love her, let her go and all that.”
“You’re such a good guru.” Hopefully Seth could hear that it wasn’t all sarcasm.
“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”
They both watched as the Wolves’ point guard drove hard to the basket. He went up for a layup and was fouled hard by the Mavs’ power forward.
Sammy turned the game down. This would be hard enough to admit without having to say it loudly. “She called me a coward.”
“What?” Seth broke his gaze from the TV to look at him.
“She said I am hiding and that I’m too much of a coward to move forward.”
“I see.”
Sammy rubbed his hand over his hair. “The thing is, she’s right.”
Seth returned his attention to the television. “I don’t know if it’s cowardice preventing you from acting.”
“Maybe not in all things, but in some things.” Sammy watched as the point guard’s second free throw tickled the bottom of the net. “I mean, yeah, I still have the hang-up about driving, and that’s not cowardice, I don’t think. But not making a decision about what I’m doing with myself…I think she’s right. I’m just scared.” He turned the game back up.
Seth reached out for the remote, then muted the game. “You know that heroes act even when scared, right? Might be cliché, but it’s true. Maybe try doing one thing scared.” He clicked the mute button again. Onscreen, the Timberwolves’ small forward stepped in to take a charge, hitting the court with a thud. The whistle blew, putting the Mavs in foul territory.
