“They don’t think it’s that bad,” he persists, on a roll now. It’s the most serious I’ve ever seen him. “They see me walking around like normal, but they don’t know what it took to get to this point. How hard I had to work. And my physical therapist warned me - no extensive exercise on my knee, especially rotating or pivoting. And baseball’s full of that. I can’t even go running anymore. I’ve gotta do laps at the pool.”
I let him continue, sensing he needs to get this off his chest.
“I go and hang out with my friends, my teammates, but it’s not the same. They’re talking about stuff that happened at practice, the upcoming season, and I’m like a third wheel. Now I understand why Rachel’s always complaining about not being in on the jokes, being left out.”
Who’s Rachel?
He stops the car at a red light and turns to me. “You know medical stuff. Do you think I made the right choice?”
“I’m not a pre-med major,” I tell him carefully. “So please don’t take my opinion as actual medical advice. But it sounds like you made the best decision you could under the circumstances. The use of your leg is more important than playing baseball one more year. And I have no idea how good you are, but the chances of getting drafted to a pro team...”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I heard it all from my dad. And I understand it logically. But that’s been the dream, you know? To go pro. And now I don’t even have the option. I have to start all over with something else.”
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
He glances over at me, a guilty expression on his face. “Shit. I sound like a selfish ass, don’t I? Poor me, I can’t play. I know I’m privileged, have so many other opportunities. I shouldn’t be focusing on what I can’t have.”
“It’s okay to miss something that was a huge part of your life for so long. And just because you can’t play doesn’t mean you can’t be involved in some way. What if you went into coaching?”
“Coaching? No, I- I’m not a coach. They’ve usually played in the pros and retire before they do that.”
“Well, what about a youth league or something? I’m sure they wouldn’t care as much about credentials.”
“I’m supposed to be focusing on school, not starting a new job. Something about the idea of working with kids... I don’t know. How can I encourage them to play a sport that’s messed up my knee this bad? Baseball isn’t like football or hockey with their dangerous concussion rates, but still. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about kids.”
From what I know of him, I bet he’d be great with them. Other than this serious conversation we’re having now, he’s usually pretty laid-back. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. My friend Natalie works with Suncoast Serves. She could point you in the right direction if you want. She has connections with a lot of volunteer organizations.”
“Hmm,” is all he replies, his voice distracted. The car stops then, and I realize we’re in front of Sakura Sushi. “You ever been here before?” he asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door.
I follow suit, but before I know it, he’s around the other side, opening my door for me.
“Um, thanks.” I try not to dwell on how close he is as I step out of the vehicle, a foresty pine scent lingering on him I’ve never noticed before. Or never been near enough to distinguish. I shake my head, trying to recall what he asked me. “Yeah, I’ve been here once. For dinner after my high school graduation. But it’s more expensive than we can ordinarily afford.”
“Yeah, but this is a date,” he smiles as we walk to the entrance and he once again opens the door for me.
“You don’t have to keep saying that. I know you’d normally never be out with me.”
He frowns but is interrupted by the hostess asking how many are in our party before he can respond.
When we’re seated, I change the topic so I won’t have to hear him make some excuse about how he doesn’t know what I’m talking about or he’d be open to a date with anyone.
We’re both perfectly aware that guys that look like him don’t go out with mousy girls like me. Ones that have never been on a date before. Who have never been kissed. Who get sweaty just thinking about their crush.
“Have you taken a girl out on an actual date here before?” I ask as we look over our menus.
“No. You’re the first one who’s said they like sushi.”
“Really? But it’s so good.”
“I know. Logan and Rachel won’t come here with me either.”
I grab a menu and hurriedly scan it as the waiter comes by to take our order, settling on a Maki combo. My stomach gives a quiet rumble that I pray Jake didn’t hear, and I sip at the water the server pours for us. “You’ve mentioned Rachel before. Is she a friend?”
“Yeah. Well, she’s Logan’s girlfriend. He’s my best friend and plays second base on the team. But they’ve been dating since high school, so I’ve known her as long as I have him.”
Maybe that’s the girl he had his arm around in that picture. God, am I a stalker or what?
He tells me about a few more guys he’s close to on the team, along with a couple others he realizes he has nothing in common with now that he’s not playing anymore.
“You ever had friends like that? Ones you realized after a certain point you weren’t actually close to at all?”
You mean like the girls in high school who would be nice to try and cheat off my homework and then never give me the time of day after? “No, I just have a few close friends. We have lunch together every week. Samantha’s one of them.”
“And this Natalie girl?”
I pause. “How do you know her?”
“You mentioned her in the car.”
Oh, yeah. He was actually paying attention to that?
“So tell me about this Matthew guy. What made you decide to do something about it now?”
“It’s Michael,” I remind him. I pick up a chopstick, tapping it against my napkin. “It was my friends actually. They all have boyfriends now and I’m feeling kind of... left out.”
He smiles broadly and I instinctively flinch back. Why does my misfortune please him?
The grin drops and he reaches out to squeeze my hand, tingles coursing through me at his touch. It doesn’t seem to affect him, though. “Sorry, I was just thinking, you were so worried about making conversation on a date, and look at you now. Making connections all over the place.” He gestures with his hands back and forth between us. “I’m feeling left out with baseball. You’re feeling left out with your friends. That’s what a date’s about. Connecting with the other person.”
The smile he makes now is contagious. “Really? I’m doing good?”
“You got nothing to worry about,” he assures me.
I continue telling him about my friends and when our meals arrive I happily dig in, excited that I’m getting everything right so far.
He stares at me as I dip my salmon roll into soy sauce and take a bite, and I automatically cover my mouth. “What is it?” I ask around the sushi, my words half garbled.