“I have,” she says casually, but there’s a gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s holding something back.
“Any good?” I press, leaning casually against the table.
“Maybe,” she says with a little wink. “Maybe not.”
“Want a game? So I can find out for myself?”
“Sure. Do you have a coin, so we can flip for the break?”
“Should I be worried?” I tease. She whistles innocently as I fish a quarter from my pocket. “Wait, what does the winner get?” I ask.
“Let me think.” She taps her chin. “What do I want?”
I laugh. “Confidence, I like that.”
She winks at me. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, call it.”
I flip the coin as she calls heads, and it lands perfectly. She takes her position at the head of the table, and I notice immediately how naturally she handles the cue, the ease in her stance.
She takes her shot. Balls clank and scatter across the table before she sinks a low one with precise control.
“Nice,” I say, impressed.
She grins. “Did you have a misguided youth or something? Spend a lot of time in a pool hall?”
She laughs at my surprise. “No, we had a pool table growing up. Dad loved the game and taught me.”
Not to get too personal, but curious none the less, I ask, “Your Dad…I mean, your mom came to Boston with you.”
She nods. “We lost Dad a couple of years ago. Heart disease. It was very sudden.”
“I’m so sorry, Maria.”
“Thanks. The boys really miss him. He was such a good influence in their lives. They needed that.” Sadness moves into her eyes. “Their father was never really there for them and Dad always took up the space. He took them to sporting events, and even helped with their homework. They miss him terribly. We all do. Honestly, I was very lucky to have two loving parents.”
“Me too. Two very supportive parents.”
She laughs lightly. “Look at us, something in common.”
I laugh at that. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. We both seem so different, both wanting different things.”
I glance at the table, not wanting to think about how wrong she is. “Are you ready to be annihilated?”
That gleam is back in her eyes. “You should be asking yourself that question.”
I think about her upbringing. “So no misguided youth, then?”
“I was, in fact, a straight-A student and didn’t give my parents any trouble.”
I study her, curiosity tugging at me. “If I asked your mom, is that what she would tell me?”
She tilts her head, playful. “If I asked your mom, what would she tell me?”
I smirk. “Okay, answering a question with a question. Classic avoidance. It tells me everything.”
