Gary sat across the table from his nine-year-old son, Jordan. The restaurant was crowded, noisy. They\u2019d ordered dinner and were both busy on their cell phones: Gary answering a text from his current girlfriend and Jordan using both thumbs to play a video game.<\/p>\n
Gary ended his message, set down the phone, and watched his son\u2019s eyebrows knit in concentration. Jordan\u2019s expression reminded Gary of his ex-wife to whom he had been divorced for almost two years since shortly after he admitted to having an affair.<\/p>\n
Gary asked, \u201cSo, how was school?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan shrugged. His eyes didn\u2019t leave the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cDidn\u2019t you have an end-year test yesterday?\u201d<\/p>\n
Instead of replying, Jordan smacked the table with an open palm, then resumed the rapid movement of his thumbs. Gary\u2019s cell phone pinged; he glanced at the series of emojis his girlfriend had used for her reply and smiled. A waiter came by with their drinks: draft beer for Gary and a Shirley Temple for Jordan.<\/p>\n
Gary took a sip and looked around. Their table was in the bar area and the same muted baseball game played on several mounted televisions nearby. An attractive younger woman smiled at him from a stool at the bar. She looked vaguely familiar to Gary; he gave her a slight nod in return and instinctively clenched his biceps. He was still wearing his exercise gear from work: shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt advertising the name of the gym where he was a personal trainer. His last client had asked for some extra time, so he\u2019d been late to Jordan\u2019s Little League game. It hadn\u2019t really mattered since the game itself cut into his visitation hours. He\u2019d watched it from the right field fence near where Jordan played his required two innings. His ex-wife had sat in the bleachers and left once Jordan was taken out of the game. He and Jordan had driven over to the restaurant after it ended, Jordan in his uniform with his ball cap on backwards.<\/p>\n
Gary watched his son shake the phone as he manipulated it. He was small and thin for his age, almost waifish. He gave another exasperated gasp.<\/p>\n
\u201cTough one?\u201d Gary asked.<\/p>\n
Jordan shrugged again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich game is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
His son turned the phone so Gary could see the screen\u2019s images of weapons and destruction with numbers at the bottom.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like you\u2019re scoring points.\u201d Gary kept his tone hopeful. Nothing had been said on the way over about Jordan striking out without swinging at his only at bat or dropping the pop fly in right field. If they had more time together, Gary thought he could help his son improve, but that wasn\u2019t possible.<\/p>\n
Jordan gave a grunt in reply, then turned the phone around and began playing again. A collective cheer rose from portions of the bar at something the home team had done on the television monitors. Gary exchanged small smiles again with the woman at the bar, and then recalled helping her with her curling technique on free weights at the club. She\u2019d had her hair in a ponytail then instead of down like she wore it now. She\u2019d told him her name was Denise. He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of how she moved in her spandex tights.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later, the waiter set down their meals: chicken strips and fries for Jordan and a salad for Gary. Gary started in on his and Jordan put aside his cell phone long enough to dip a few hunks of food into ketchup and eat them. They both watched a television monitor as they ate.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee the way that batter was aggressive on the first pitch?\u201d Gary said. \u201cPitcher almost always throws a first pitch strike.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan nodded, but his expression was flat. He didn\u2019t look at his father as he bit off the cherry from his drink and chewed hard on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m just saying,\u201d Gary continued. \u201cCan\u2019t hurt to be ready to take a whack when you get up there.\u201d<\/p>\n
He watched his son roll his eyes, push his plate away, and resume the game on his cell phone. Gary returned to his meal and watched a heavyset man dressed as a clown move among the tables blowing up balloons and twisting them into shapes for children. He stopped by their table, held out a balloon towards Jordan, and raised his painted eyebrows. The boy ignored him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d Gary said. \u201cYou want him to make you something?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan\u2019s thumbs didn\u2019t stop moving, but he shook his head. The man made a sad face and moved away to another table.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat could have been fun,\u201d Gary said. \u201cYou could have brought something home for your mom. Maybe a flower. She likes flowers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan kept one thumb moving on the phone and used the other hand to lift his glass and take a long, slurping suck on the straw. Gary sighed through his nose and thought back to bringing flowers to his ex-wife. He\u2019d done that almost monthly until after Jordan was born and she turned all her attention his way. He shook his head remembering how all-consuming Jordan became for her and how little time she had for him.<\/p>\n
Gary glanced at his watch and finished his meal quickly. He put money on the table. \u201cCome on, big guy,\u201d he said. \u201cGot to get you home by eight.\u201d<\/p>\n
He kept a hand on Jordan\u2019s shoulder as they rounded the bar. Before pushing outside, he gave Denise a last glance. She smiled again and raised her hand to him; he returned the gesture and felt a familiar jolt of excitement. The stool next to her was empty.<\/p>\n
In the car, Jordan fiddled with the radio until he found a song he liked, then sat facing the passenger window bobbing his head to the beat of it. The drive to the apartment wasn\u2019t long; the song was just ending as they pulled up in front of the building where Gary left the car idling. Jordan hopped out and lugged the expensive gear bag Gary had bought after him. They looked at each other.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen,\u201d Gary said. \u201cIt\u2019s my weekend with you, so I\u2019ll pick you up Friday after school. Thought we might go to the batting cages.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan scowled.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, forget that. How about bowling then?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan gave him a thumbs-up, slammed the car door closed, and scampered up the walk.<\/p>\n
\u201cLove you!\u201d Gary called after him.<\/p>\n
The boy didn\u2019t turn around. As he opened the apartment door and disappeared inside, Gary realized that Jordan hadn\u2019t spoken a word while they\u2019d been together. His shoulders slumped. The curtains were drawn at the front window, so he couldn\u2019t see the interior, but he imagined the smell of the sandalwood candles his ex-wife liked to burn most nights, a fragrance Gary had grown to associate with home and family. His cell phone pinged and he saw his girlfriend\u2019s name flash across the screen. He didn\u2019t pick up. He turned the phone over and thought instead about returning to the bar and lowering himself onto the empty stool next to Denise. But for the moment, he did nothing. He just stared at the outside of the apartment, still and silent in the evening\u2019s gloaming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Gary realized that his son hadn\u2019t spoken a word while they\u2019d been together. His shoulders slumped. The curtains were drawn at the front window, so he couldn\u2019t see the interior, but he imagined the smell of the sandalwood candles his ex-wife liked to burn most nights, a fragrance Gary had grown to associate with home and family. His cell phone pinged and he saw his girlfriend\u2019s name flash across the screen. He didn\u2019t pick up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":15497,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15463","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-william-cass"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15463","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15463"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15463\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15499,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15463\/revisions\/15499"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15497"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15463"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15463"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15463"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}