Page 10 of Right Up His Alley

“I haven’t been to that alley since…what? Since you’ve gone pro? It’s been so long. That’s sad.”

“Sad is the perfect word to describe it. I think he has good intentions, but I’m not sure Ezra knows exactly how to run the place.” My mom’s brow rises as I continue, “He’s kind of mean, definitely moody, and he doesn’t really seem invested in keeping the lights on.

“And speaking of lights—the lights on the sign out front were blown. The lanes were rough-looking, and I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of the pinsetters jacked up. You’d think someone with muscles and time on their hands would want to fix up the place his father left him.”

“Muscles?” She laughs. “That’s something to make note of.”

I press my lips together, wishing I could slurp the slip back where it came from.

“So, how big are we talking?” she eggs me on. “Enough to be attractive, I assume.”

I freeze. My mom’s unexpected comment repeats in my head about three times until I speak up, “Absolutely not. He seems like quite the little ass, if I’m being honest.”

“Speaking of, how is his ass?”

“Mom!” I recoil. “I don’t like him like that. I haven’t decided if I even like him at all! I just hope he’ll get his shit together. He said he wants to move forward with the application, so we’ll see.”

“Application?”

“Yeah. Spare Time, crazy enough, is in the running to host the USBC Championship this year. Mr. Jiménez put in an application for it to be considered before he passed away. It could give Spare Time, and this city, some much-needed attention, bringing people from our community back to the lanes. It could revitalize things around here like it was when Mr. Jiménez ran things.”

“Baby, I know your world has revolved around bowling for as long as you can remember, but I hate to break it to you. Bowling isn’t something that could revitalize a city.”

“Well… uh,” I stumble over my words, trying to find a more poignant rebuttal, “...it could.”

She gives me a small nod.

“Pflugerville needs the USBC to pick Spare Time.” I throw my hands on the counter. “Mr. Jiménez taught me so much when I was a kid. He gave back to this community in ways Ezra doesn’t understand. Safe, fun, and family-oriented activities are how communities thrive.”

“And you learned all that on the road? You sound like a politician.” Mom’s chin dips as she beams at me with an amusing grin.

“I’m serious, Ma!” I take a deep breath and slowly let out all the pent-up frustration bubbling inside. Before long, I feel my nerves calming down. “Also, while I’m at it, I think I’m done traveling. I need to find my footing. I need to find… someone to share a life with. I’ve made a career playing a solo game, and I’m tired of playing by myself.”

“Oh, sweetie. Everyone masturbates.”

“Ma!”

She laughs at her joke harder than I would have. “In all seriousness, I totally understand what you’re saying.” Her laugh comes to a soft smile. “Life on the road is very lonely. I get it. More than you’ll ever know.”

“But you have Dad.”

“Yes, but who do you think stayed back when Dad was traveling between his competitions? It still gets lonely when you’re waiting for someone to come home, True.” She pauses. “A home isn't a place. It isn’t even a person. It’s a mixture of both.”

She reaches over and gives me a quick kiss on my cheek. “Your life has been all about bowling. I’ve seen your passion for it. I don’t know if that’s ever going to change. But you’re also allowed to make room for something else. I think it might benefit you to make a little more spare time for Spare Time, if you catch my drift?”

“I’m catching it.” I nod. “I just want other people to experience what I did when I was younger. That place was my second home. If I had to learn how to be a bowler, I’m so glad it was there.”

“Well, if you want the USBC to choose Pflugerville so you can finally lay some roots, have you thought about offering to help Ezra fix up the alley? It can’t be in that bad of shape.”

“I did. I let him know I was interested in helping him. It’s not horrible, mostly cosmetic. Let’s just hope Ezra agrees to accept my help.”

“See, you’ll figure it out, sweetie.” She searches the junk drawer, and, after a moment, she finds a set of batteries and loads the blender she’s taken out of the box. Before she turns it on to test, she looks up at me. “You never answered my question, by the way.”

I stare at her, one of my eyebrows raised. Her eyes widen slightly as a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, betraying her amusement. A sudden hint of mischief in her expression tells me exactly what question I left unanswered.

“I’m not going to tell you what I think about Ezra’s ass, Ma.”

She nods and lets her smile unravel. “Can you blame a girl for trying?”