Page 90 of The Problem with Players

“Are you suggesting we start an OSS club?”

“A secret society where we share our struggles with each other since only us eldest children can truly understand.”

I put a hand against my chest. “Did we just become best friends?” I asked, quoting the movieStep Brothers.

She laughed. “No. Absolutely not. We aren’t even friends. We are just two people who come to the field once a week to vent, to talk, and to feel better with one another.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all.”

“Okay. I can get behind this secret society of two. Is this our first official meeting?”

She held the bat out toward me. “It is.”

“Okay.” I took the bat and swung. “So how does the conversation start?”

“Should your mother be worried about you?”

I glanced back at her and saw the seriousness in her stare. I considered lying, but that wasn’t exactly the point of the OSS club. “Sometimes. Yes.”

The corner of her mouth twitched as she frowned. “Should she be worried about you right now?”

I shook my head. “No. Right now, I’m good.”

“Happy?” she asked.

“Right now? Yes. But I don’t strive for happiness. It’s a temporary, fleeting thing.”

“What do you strive for?”

“Contentment,” I replied. “It’s a longer-term state of satisfaction. Happiness is fleeting. Contentment is stable and solid throughout life.”

“I thought I was content in my last relationship.”

“Oh.” I shook my head. “That’s different. One should never be content in love.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I just feel as if love deserves a word, a feeling bigger than that.”

“And what word is that?”

“Don’t know yet. But once I figure it out, I’ll be the first to inform you.”

She smiled a little, but then fell once again into a worried frown. “But you’re okay, right?”

“For someone who isn’t my friend, you sure show a lot of friendship tendencies.”

“What can I say? I’m a good person.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “You are.”

She grew bashful and snatched the bat from me to shake off her nervous energy. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my follow-up question.”

“Before we move on to if I’m okay, don’t I get to ask you the same question about whether your father should be worried about you? ShouldIbe worried about you?”

“Oh no. Today’s OSS meeting isn’t about me. It’s just about you.”

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