“Well, if it isn’t my long lost baby boy!” my mother trills on her end. “Can you hold on just a second, Lincoln?”
“Yeah.”
I listen to her talk to someone and recognize Paulina’s voice. She’s one of my mother’s oldest friends, one that Barrett used to bang off and on. Ford maybe too. Soon, she’s back.
“I’m sorry about that. We were wrapping up the plans for a coat drive for our women’s club.”
“How’s that going?”
“Good. There are so many needy families this year. The requests were double what they were last year. It’s so incredibly sad.”
“Can I send a check or something?”
“Such a sweet boy,” Mom gushes. “Why don’t you come down this winter and help us with a fundraiser. Maybe we could do a food drive. Put some baskets together for needy families for Christmas. With your name attached to it, I bet we could stock some pantries for the winter.”
“I’d love to. Tell me when and I’m there.”
She pauses and I hear a quick breath. “Linc, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t sound like yourself. There have been no jokes, no cracks, no baseball analogies, and we’ve talked for two whole minutes.”
I chuckle, but even that sounds sad. “I don’t feel like myself either.”
“Is it your shoulder?”
“Well, it’s hurting like hell.”
“Watch your language.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I sigh. “I go in for a battery of tests in the morning. Then I meet with the GM and team docs and things after Thanksgiving to see what they have to say.”
“It’s going to work out.”
“Yeah.” I place my elbows on the counter and sigh again.
“Give me one moment,” she says. “Paulina! Just one more thing . . .”
I wonder what Dani is doing. If she’s okay. If she misses me half as much as I miss her.
How can she do this? How can she just write this off like it’s nothing? This is something. Something possibly great and she knows it. Why wouldn’t she want this? I look down at my abs.
“Okay, honey. I’m so sorry,” Mom says, coming back to the line. “Now tell me what’s really wrong.”
“I just did.”
“No, you just lied to your mother.”
Chuckling, I stand up and walk around the island. “I met a girl.”
“That’s great!”
“She hates me.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Mom laughs. “No one could hate you, Lincoln.”
“Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate me, but she doesn’t want me.”