Page 46 of Fair Ball

“Millie, I don’t care about the goddamn bird.”

She hums a miffed sound, offended on Harold’s behalf. “That’s why he calls you a dickhead. I might stop training him if you don’t start being nicer to him.”

I grunt. “How are you getting home?”

“My aunt’s going to give me a ride.”

“Okay. I’ve got to go, but keep me updated.”

“Right. I’ll let you know when I feed Harold.”

“Millie.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll keep you updated on the car situation, boss.”

“Good. Talk to you later.” We hang up, and I don’t bother tucking my phone away as I make my way to the meal room for lunch. With my plate filled from the buffet, I take a seat in the corner and scroll through car reviews. This should be a job for my assistant, but seeing as her hands are full and she wouldn’t let me do it anyway, I find a new compact SUV that would be perfect for her needs at a local Mazda dealership in Philadelphia and make a call.

Hours later, I’m still feeling good from our win that ties up the series here in St. Louis. I didn’t pitch, but we have a winning record, and my arm’s feeling good enough for our third game tomorrow that I find myself agreeing to Yadi’s invitation to hang out.

Contractually, each player has their own hotel room on the road, and Yadi’s is a mess. I push a pile of clothes to the floor to take a seat on his unused bed as he flips on the television. He has it connected to his Netflix account and clicks on Love Is Blind: Mexico. “To practice your Spanish,” he tells me with a grin.

I roll my eyes but toss him the bag of yellow Skittles I brought, and he thrusts his fist into the air. “Tell Millie I love her.”

“No.”

“Next time, I would like red. Yellow and red are my favorite.”

I stack a few pillows behind my head. “Are you going to be talking the whole time? I thought I was supposed to watch this to help with my Spanish.”

He mimes zipping his lips then tosses a few candies into his mouth. But he’s only quiet long enough for me to learn these people’s names before he says, “This is nice, isn’t it? Us hanging out together.”

I don’t answer.

“We should do this when we get home. Philadelphia. Not home.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“I miss DR. It is hard to be away from my family. My girlfriend.”

I didn’t know he had a girlfriend, but I don’t even get a chance to say that because he tells me all about Esther. How they’ve known each other since they were kids, and that they’ve been together since they were twelve. How he kissed her outside of school and she slapped him. But then he kissed her again, and she kissed him back.

She’s in the middle of procuring her visa, and he’s not sure when he’ll be able to see her. When she’ll be able to move to America. “Mira.” He angles his cell phone toward me, filled with the picture of a pretty brown-skinned young woman with glasses and curly dark hair. “She’s quiet. The…opposite of me.”

“She’s cute,” I say, and he flips to another picture. This one of the two of them and his whole family. He points out his parents, his little sister, and his grandparents. Another photo of what appears to be his high school graduation, both he and Esther in caps and gowns. And another of them kissing. And a few more that I really don’t care about. The last one is of Esther with an older man. “This is her abuelo. She loved him a lot, a lot, and he died right before I came here to play. He had lung cancer.”

That makes my own breath catch. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

He pockets his phone. “I could not do anything for her. For her family. I was…” He shrugs, shaking his head a few times. “It was very, very hard. Sometimes I think about doing something now, you know?” He turns to mime handing something out. “Give money.”

“Start a charity,” I fill in, and he snaps his fingers that I understood.

“Charity for lung cancer.”

Hearing him say it out loud sparks something inside me. Sends a zap of energy up my spine.

“Millie’s mom has lung cancer,” I tell him, and I find myself spilling everything I know. That it’s advanced, and Millie has been struggling to pay the bills. They had to remortgage their house to pay for treatment, and since she is the sole moneymaker, it’s all fallen on her shoulders. And that I wish I could do more for her. For people like Esther’s grandfather.

“You want to do it together?” Yadi asks, having sat up, a light back in his eyes. “A charity.”