I grab my phone from my bedside table and scroll through my contacts until I find my mom’s picture. It’s of her holding Shea while my mom beams with pride. I press her name and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“Hi, Mom.” I’ve never been one to open up about my feelings, but there’s a first time for everything. I don’t know how to tell if what I’m feeling is lust or genuine feelings, and I’m hoping my mom can help me figure it out. I can’t compare Daisy to Sarah – I’ve tried – it’s not working. They’re completely different.
“You had a good game last night.”
“Thanks. We’re still not doing that well. We’re already behind and it’s only April.”
My mom sighs and I can hear her moving around the room. The sound of a door closing makes me wonder if I’ve woken her up.
“Dad says the team is young and you guys have a lot of rebuilding to do. You’ll be fine, it may just take a bit longer than you expect.”
“Yeah, but I’m impatient and used to winning.”
“Well, everyone has to grow up eventually. You can’t win everything, Ethan.”
I want to ask her why not. I’m Boston’s most eligible bachelor. Surely I should have whatever I want when I want it. Isn’t that part of having this title? I want Daisy, yet I have a feeling that if I don’t act fast enough I’m going to be friend zoned. The problem is, if she’s giving me a sign, I’m obviously missing it and finding excuses as to why I shouldn’t kiss her whenever I have the chance. Something is holding me back. It’s as if I’m stuck behind bars and unable to reach her, even though she’s right there.
“I need to ask you something, but I also need you to keep it between us.”
“I’m all ears,” she says, but there’s a hint of worry in her voice. I’d be worried too, I suppose, if my son said this to me.
I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly as I close my eyes and prepare for her reaction. It doesn’t matter that my mom is three thousand miles away; she’ll be giddy and want to know everything about Daisy.
“How did you know you were in love with Dad?”
The slight intake of air on the other end tells me she’s smiling. Knowing my mom the way I do, she has her fist clenched and is doing her own impression of Arsenio Hall. My only fear is that, given our history, she’ll think that it’s Sarah, and I don’t want to disappoint her.
“Is it the girl the BoRe Blogger has written about?”
I go silent and wish I could hang up on my mother. However, I’m sure that action would have her on the next plane out. I’m never too old for a spanking according to her.
“Ugh, Mom, why do you read that garbage?” It’s not all garbage. The BoRe Blogger is fairly accurate with his baseball knowledge, but the gossip part is what kills me. Why can’t the blog be about baseball and only baseball? Why must our personal lives be subject matter?
“I can’t help it. You aren’t forthcoming with a lot of information and the BoRe blog is. Besides, why are you only now telling me about this?”
“There was nothing to tell.”
“Then why do you think you’re in love?”