Page 25 of Soft
By the time he managed to get in the upright position it was well past eight. Thankfully he’s not one to get too caught up in his wardrobe. Pops throws on a NRU baseball t-shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of New Balances. I snorted as I thought about how much he looked like the typicalAmerican dadin this getup.
"Morning," he said, completely unbothered by my amusement. His stomach grumbled loudly, to which he added, "Breakfast?"
"Good morning to you too. Your hair is doing something." I waved my hand in the direction of his bedhead situation.
He patted at it without looking in a mirror, which fixed absolutely nothing. "It'll sort itself out. I need coffee and eggs. Then I'll be awake enough to handle the rest."
I grabbed my cap off the dresser and pulled it on. "There's a place about two blocks down that the front desk lady recommended. She said they do biscuits."
Pops pointed at me. "Lead the way."
Bellport in the morning felt like a storybook world. I'd seen it in the afternoon and the evening, both of which were good, but the morning was stunning. The air was cooler than it would get later in the day and everything had a slow, unhurried quality to it. The city was taking its time to come to life, which I’m sure my pops appreciated since he functioned the same way.
People walked dogs and leaned against storefronts with coffee. They waved at each other, calling one another out by name. A couple of kids were riding bikes down the sidewalk with absolutely zero supervision and looking thrilled about it.
Why did that make me so happy? I wanted to spin around, arms out wide, like I was trying to be in a musical singing about how joyful life could be.
Pops walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, head on a swivel the whole time. He did that in every new place we went. Took stock of everything, filed it all away until we needed some random factoid later.
"This is good," he said after about a block and a half.
"Yeah. It is."
"You slept?"
"Well enough," I said, which was mostly true. I'd been up later than I should have, replaying the party in my head. Not in a spiral kind of way, just turning things over.
Grizzly's face when I sat down beside him. The way he'd lit up and then gone still, like he was unsure of how he felt. The small nod at the end of the night that had done more for me than a whole conversation would have.
Listening to Bellamy had paid off. I’d thanked him last night, but I had a feeling if things worked out, I’d be indebted to him for life.
"You're thinking about your man," Pops teased.
"I'm not."
He chuckled. "You've got that look."
"I don't have a look."
Did I?Surely not.
He cut a glance at me. "Son… You have a look. You've had it since you were little and you decided you were going to be the best baseball player in the country. It is the exact same face. Determination."
I didn't have a good response to his level of insight. Plus it was too early to be philosophical.
The breakfast place was called Hazel's. It was the size of a shoebox, which apparently didn't bother anyone since there were already people waiting outside. We got in line, and I pulled out my phone to give myself something to look at that wasn't my Pops’s knowing expression.
"Tell me about last night," he said after giving me all of four seconds of peace.
"I told you last night." We’d wound up getting back to the hotel at the same time. He took one look at me, then started in on the questions.
"You gave me the summary. I want the details. You came back to the hotel with a face of defeat, then went radio silent for two hours after giving me the shortest conversation I think we’ve ever had in person. I need to know what you fucked up so we can fix it together."
My shoulders bunched. "I wasn't quiet for two hours."
"You put on a game and stopped talking. That's quiet for you." He crossed his arms and waited.
I looked up from my phone. The line moved forward a few steps. I thought about how to explain it without it sounding like more than it was. Then I decided there wasn't any point in doing that because it was already far beyond whatever half-truth I could form.
