Page 57 of Pete and His Precious

“Thanks so much for playing with me, Aunt Zoe. I really enjoyed it,” Baxley says, as she looks at Zoe, hopeful. Like Zoe doesn’t hate her for beating her, or maybe she’s hoping that Zoe will play with her again.

I’m sure, because I know Zoe well enough that I can say I know for sure she doesn’t hate her niece. No matter how badly her niece beats her.

“I’m happy you’re such a good player. I really am. And, I suppose what we said earlier, that it’s not any fun to lose, is true. But I don’t mind playing. If you don’t mind chasing my wild balls.”

“They’re not going to be wild if you keep working on your game,” I interject, because I know Baxley doesn’t mind chasing them.

“Do you have time for another game?” Baxley asks, and the sweet look in her eyes makes my heart clench. There is no way that I could tell her no. Even if I hated playing ping-pong, which I don’t. It’s not a hardship to play.

“I think supper is probably almost ready,” Zoe says.

The words are no sooner out of her mouth then the housekeeper calls down the stairs, “You guys can come up and wash up. Dinner’s going to be on the table.”

“Can we play after we eat?” Baxley says, and Zoe glances at me.

I nod and shrug, because yeah. I’m here until bedtime. And I’d rather be playing ping-pong than doing anything else, although honestly, playing in the creek wasn’t too bad. I know I’m a grown man and I’m not supposed to like that kind of stuff,but... I did. Still, it’s a little bit cool out for that, and I’m not going to suggest it. If Baxley wants to play ping-pong, we can.

“Do you have any schoolwork that you have to do?” Zoe asks, and I remember again why I would make a terrible parent. I forgot all about schoolwork.

“No. I got it done in class,” Baxley says.

“Did you do a good job on it?”

Baxley lifts a shoulder, total unconcern in her posture. “I’m getting A’s in my classes.”

“All right. I just know your mother would think I am doing a terrible job if I didn’t make sure that you are doing your schoolwork.”

“You can tell her it’s all finished for tonight.”

“I’m sure she’s going to call you tonight,” Zoe says, as they put their paddles down, and I grab two stray balls from the floor, putting them in the pouch that hangs at the table.

“I don’t want to spend too much time talking to mom if I can be playing ping-pong,” Baxley says, and I wonder if there’s not some way that we could get this kid playing in leagues or something. She so good and she loves it. It seems a shame to waste all that talent.

But, I don’t go down that road. She’s not my child. Although, I guess it’s probably impossible to spend a lot of time with someone, and not want to butt into their business. I find myself tempted, even though I would have said I wasn’t that kind of person.

We go to the steps, and I let them walk up ahead of me. Baxley goes up first, and I think it might be my imagination that Zoe kind of hesitates, but then, she leans towards me and says, “Thanks for the flowers,”

She doesn’t exactly whisper, but she does say it in a low voice, like she doesn’t want Baxley to know.

“Thanks for talking to me. I had a good time that night,” I say, wondering if those are the right words. I already said that in the note, so she knows it, but does it make any difference if it comes from me in person?

I’m terrible at this kind of stuff. But I remember what I’ve been thinking about the ping-pong. Just because you’re terrible, doesn’t mean you don’t try. After all, I suppose with a little bit of effort I could get better. Or maybe a little bit of advice. I should ask her for advice.

“I did too. And the flowers are beautiful. It was a nice touch to send them to me at work.”

“I knew that was where you were going to be this morning, and I wanted to get them to you first thing.”

“You must have been at the flower shop before it was even open.”

“I know people who know people,” I say, smirking, and she laughs.

I love her laugh, I love that she’s not afraid to laugh, and then no matter how cheesy I sound to myself, she thinks I’m funny. That’s kind of an ego boost. No. It’s not kind of. That is an ego boost.

“Are you still going to give me drawing lessons?” I asked as she starts up the steps.

She pauses and turns. “Thursday?” she asked, crinkling up her nose.

“That’s what we said.”

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