Page 16 of Missed Exit

“That seems highly unlikely.”

“I’ll share my chips.”

“Your chips?”

“Yeah. You’re using them to pay for my labor, remember?”

“That’s all you’ve got to offer to entice me into watching baseball?”

“I’d offer you a beer, but I noticed you already had your own in the fridge. You’re still welcome to drink mine if you want to taste a real beer.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing, if you’re in the mood for beer-flavored water.”

“What makes yours better?”

“It’s from a local micro-brewery, for one thing, so it supports a small business. And it just plain tastes better.”

“How does a micro-brewery survive out here?”

“You do know you’re not living in a ghost town, right?”

“I know, but are there really that many people here who drink beer?”

“Yes. Get yourself one, and you’ll understand why.”

I had planned to listen to a podcast in my room while he watched his game, but now I’m intrigued about this local beer.

“You’re more high maintenance than my first impression led me to believe. Fancy chips. Pretentious beer. What else am I going to find out about you, neighbor?”

“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever discovered a big star?”

“A few who might be someday. And one who could absolutely be a big star if he didn’t have such a big ego.”

“Isn’t that a normal part of being a star?”

“It’s one thing when the ego develops along the way. It’s a lot harder to get there when you arrive on the scene with an ego that enters the room five paces before you.”

“Oh. It’s not the size of his ego; it’s that he hasn’t earned it.”

“Exactly. Here comes the first pitch.”

I sit next to him on my couch and promise myself I won’t ask too many questions during the game. And also, that I won’t fall asleep, which might require me to ask a few questions.

8

Law

A Perfectly Imperfect Game

Shekeepsapologizingeverytime she asks a question, but I love that she’s asking. At first, I thought she might be faking her curiosity, but after a few interruptions, her sincerity couldn’t be doubted.

Greta doesn’t just want to know the reason for the calls; she has solutions for how the game could be better.

In a sports bar, or even in a living room full of baseball fans trying to watch a game, she would be the most annoying person in the crowd. But here, in her own space with her head tilted and the wheels so obviously spinning in her head as she listens to my answers, she’s fascinating.

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