Chapter 6

SIX

CAL

" T hanks, Nick for letting me stay here." I slap his back, all I want is a bed, any bed. I'm so tired I'm surprised I made it here in one piece.

"You can stay as long as you need to bud. It'll be great having you. We'll have a blast." Nick is a young player, rising higher in scores with his hits. He hasn't gotten a home run yet but come close.

His eyes shine like a star, he turns toward the kitchen but I have to disappoint him. "I'd really like to go to bed right now. If you don't mind."

"Oh." His shoulders slump and his crestfallen demeanor is enough to make an angel weep with the melancholy on his face. He suddenly brightens like the sun after a storm, "hey, how about a toke? I've got a bag of weed in my bedroom."

I have no clue what to say to him that won't depress him more, so I just say it. "I'm sorry, Nick. I don't smoke."

"Duuddee." He whines, mouth turns down in his disappointment I'm not more fun.

I throw my hands out in supplication. "Look Nick. Never smoke anything or do any kind of drugs. Our body is a temple and all that. I try to take care of it the best I can. We're athletes. You should think of that. If you want me to go, no hard feelings." I can barely remember my early twenties, I do remember I didn't go out like some of the other guys. I concentrated on making myself the best athlete and baseball player I am today.

"I going to the gym tomorrow morning. Early. First I'm going for a run to warm up and stretch my muscles. Why don't you go with me." I slap him on top of his shoulder, not getting a good feeling when he bites his bottom lip and his eyes zip away from mine.

"I don't know Cal. How early is early? I want to go out and party." He looks and sounds hesitant, unimpressed with my suggestion.

"I plan on leaving for my run at six." I turn to him ready to give him a get-yourself-under-control-moment. "Look Nick, I know you're having fun but you have to think of your future in the team. You have to start using your brain if you want to do this long term." I see this is not going the direction with him I had planned. My stomach churns with what I'm going to say to get him to understand how desperate his career can turn.

I try again. "Let me tell you a story. Do you have beer? I can do with one, it's been a hell of a day."

He lights up as if I suggested going to a concert with whatever band is his favorite. He almost runs to the refrigerator to get our beers, a puppy wagging it tail racing around to please its new owners. He slides a bottle over to me on the small kitchen table and plops down onto the other chair, tipping his head back, guzzling his beer.

"Okay, what's your story."

I lift the bottle to my mouth and take a sip of the bitter, cool brew. "It's about a guy named Hal. He was about your age, maybe a year or so younger or older." I shake my head at the memory, not able to remember that part, I just see his unlined face, grinning. "He was into partying after a game. Didn't matter whether we won or lost he would posture to the ballsluts out for his dick and marriage."

Nick raises his bottle in salute, "I'm in for that. Not the marriage but the pussy." He lowers his beer and drinks a couple more gulps, he must have almost finished the bottle. I take another sip.

I restart my story, "he'd do what you do; drink, smoke weed, do coke, meth. You name he tried it. And pussy, no woman was off the table, if she wanted it he'd do her." I take another sip and close my eyes, clearing my throat at the memory. This is the worst part, "one night after we won he was all hyped up. I was with him at the bar trying to calm his flying ass down. I couldn't. I took his keys away and called a cab but he had fast fingers even as wasted as he was. He slipped them out of my back pocket when I went to the bathroom and left in his car."

Another sip and now I'm sweating at this story. I have tried to forget it, the worst disaster of my life, "I get out of the bathroom and can't find him, his car is gone and I search the pocket I put his keys in and well you can guess they're gone. The taxi has arrived and we take off in the direction of his apartment. A few miles away traffic is stopped and I can see a bad accident."

I cover my face with my hands, my fingers knuckled and dig into my eyes, trying to erase everything I see through my closed eyelids. I can't. That living nightmare will always be there in the background, ready to push itself forward at any thought of anyone drinking and driving. I clear my throat and surge the story forward, knowing my eyes must be red from pushing my knuckles into them. "Both cars are a mangled mess, Hal's red Dodge Charger in pieces. He must have been going fast, the cops on scene thought over a hundred. He was in almost as many pieces as his car, I got there before the cops. The other car was crunched pretty good but the people were still alive. Well, kinda. They were on the way to the hospital. The girl was in labor, young couple. Only nineteen. The baby died before they got her to the hospital." The last sentence was ground out at reliving this pain, still a raw wound even after all these years. None of it was my fault, I was found not at any guilt since I never drove and took his keys away. I still feel I should have done something more but no idea what. I still think I could have done something, there's nothing I could have. I did it all.

"Cal, that's not me though. I don't drink and drive. I don't do anything worse than weed. I just want to have a little fun when I'm still young, you know? You were young once." He almost looks skeptical, a slight frown on his face.

I bang the beer bottle down on the table leaning forward, smacking my hand hard with a thwack. How do I get this hardheaded fool to think with his brain and not his dick or next high? "Nick, think for fucking once. You have to concentrate on your career. You won't be young forever. The panthers are a great team, I love them and the franchise and would never leave. I love Bay City, if you get good enough you could go anywhere. Make more money in Chicago or New York. Wherever you want to go. Think about your future."

I've said my piece if he decides to ignore me that's on him. "I'm going to bed. You stew on what I said. I mean it Nick. I'll see you in the morning hopefully. I leave for my run at six. Night."

He waves at me, leaning as far forward as he can to reach the fridge and pull out another beer. Fuck him. I've done what I can, if he decides to ignore me that's not my fault. Stupid, stupid young men that think they know everything.