First thing’s first, I have to get Daisy to speak to me, and right now that’s not happening. As much as it pained me to leave Seattle a day early, I chose to fly back with the team after our last game. I wanted to use the off day to see Daisy and apologize.
The downside of returning with the team means I’m required to attend class, even though this is my last week. The professor is going on and on about the importance of clean enunciation when publicly speaking. He’s right, far too many athletes don’t enunciate when they speak, often times leaving people scratching their heads at what they’re saying. I shouldn’t complain about it though since they’re allowed to be on television and I’m not. Clearly it’s working for them.
Maybe that’s the key to life – never speak clearly. It’ll leave people wondering what you’re saying and often agreeing with you because they don’t want to be rude and ask you to repeat yourself. It’s something I may need to try when I meet with Stone and we go over what I learned. Somehow I don’t think he’ll be impressed.
As soon as class is dismissed, I’m running across campus to the library. That is where I found her last time, and I’m hoping she’s a creature of habit. What I’m going to say, I have no idea, but am hoping that the words will flow once I see her. Except I don’t because she’s not in the cubicle I was hoping to find her in. It’s now being occupied by the Jolly Green Giant who I don’t want to tap on the shoulder to ask if he’s seen Daisy.
Feeling defeated, I start the long trek back to my car, pulling out my phone to text her. It’s one of two or three-dozen texts I’ve sent since I fucked up with Sarah and none of them have been answered. A normal person would start to think that maybe the object of your affections has fallen ill or is in the hospital, but since I stalked the shit out of her and have seen her leave her apartment, I know that’s not the case. I curse the parking in Boston because when I saw her I was looking for a place to park and couldn’t just jump out of my car and chase her down.
I was hoping we could grab some lunch today...
It’s a desperate attempt to get her attention and I’ve failed to tell her exactly how sorry I am because Sarah beat it into me that those words need to be said to her in person and not through text message. I hate it when Sarah’s right, which is more often than not. I wait to see if she’s going to respond before pocketing my phone and getting into my car. I could go home and practice my public speaking in front of a mirror or go to the stadium.
The stadium always wins out for me. It’s my home away from home. My serenity.
After splitting with the Mariners two games to two, we’re hosting the Texas Rangers for three games before the Los Angeles Angels come to town, bringing their power hitter, Albert Pujols, with them. That man scares me when he’s up to bat and can make my hand twitch like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve caught a few of his line drives and have had to hide the fact that my palm was burning from snagging the ball wrong. I could tell he knew, though, as he stared me down on his walk back to the dugout.
As soon as I step into the clubhouse, I’m being called to Stone’s office. The walk can be daunting, but I have a lot of respect for him and the fact that we’re somewhat close in age helps. His secretary isn’t at her desk when I arrive, so I walk in, knocking on his doorjamb.
“Ethan, come on in. Take a seat,” he says as he looks up from his paperwork.
I do as I’m told, burying my hand under my leg to keep it still.
“Hand bothering you today?” I both hate and like that he notices. I don’t want him to think it’ll ever affect my job on the field, but it worries me that he does.
“Sometimes you make me nervous, Sir.” I finish off by calling him sir, hoping to ease the building tension.
“Just worried about you is all,” he says, folding his hands on his desk. “How’s the media stuff been working out?”