Page 58 of Romance Languages

I stood in front of him, my eyes laser-focused on him, making sure he heard me. “What is the ball? What do you need to knock out of your life?”

“I mean, the tent stuff is annoying, but I’ll figure it out. And the health class stuff is what it is.” He shrugged.

“What else?” I let the silence brew until he filled it, because there was always more.

His facade slowly crumbled away. He heaved out a heavy sigh. “Everyone’s fucking expectations of me. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even get to live my life on my own terms.”

His face hardened with deep frustration, the kind that calcified over a lifetime.

I stepped aside and turned on the ball machine. Julian’s hands tightened around the bat.

The first ball flew out. Julian gave a ferocious swing, a whoosh of wind following in its wake. Strike. Resolve formed in his eyes.

“What do they expect of you?”

“Be thin, Julian. It’s easy. Just eat right and exercise. Can’t be much simpler than that.”

On the next ball, Julian’s bat made glorious contact, sending it into the side net.

“Be a good son, Julian. Be the responsible friend, Julian. Be a role model for your students, Julian. You’re almost thirty-five, Julian. The clock’s ticking. The clock’salwaysticking.”

Crack.He smashed the ball to the furthest reaches of the cage.

“Yes! Nice! That’s what I’m talking about!” I threw my arms up.

Julian got a few more cracks, each ball another expectation on his life. I watched him free himself, just for a few moments, his veneer slipping away and the real Julian, the one just as scared as the rest of us, coming into view.

Maybe it was time I stopped being scared, too.

* * *

It wasdark when we left. We were one of the last cars in the parking lot. Julian collapsed into the passenger seat, his hair still adorably matted down.

I strummed my fingers on the steering wheel.

“You were right. That was fun,” he said. “And very cathartic. I may have to come back here.”

I only managed a half-smile, my mind distracted.

“Did you want to grab a drink somewhere?” he asked.

“Jules…” I exhaled a breath.Here goes nothing.“I want to explain what happened at the wine store, with my card.”

It was a struggle to push out each word. I looked down at the wheel, not yet ready to see his reaction.

“My financial situation is really fucked-up. I barely have any money because it’s all going to clean up the mess I’ve made.”

I flicked my eyes his way, and he seemed confused about whether this was a joke or not.

“Every week, I go to Gamblers Anonymous meetings at the MacArthur Center. I used to have a really bad problem with online poker and sports betting. It started in college. Everyone I knew was doing it. You could make a little money. But unlike my friends, I couldn’t stop. I wanted more. I was always on the cusp of victory. I saw it as another sport that I could get better at with practice.” I shook my head, disgusted at all the excuses I’d used on myself over the years, all the lies I’d told myself and others.

“I maxed out my credit cards. I borrowed money from friends and family to ‘fix my car,’” I said with air quotes.

I looked up and blew out a huge breath. I was about to get to the worst of it. This could be the end of my friendship. He was about to find out his friend was a full-on, undeniable walking shitstorm.

“I had a serious girlfriend. Lauren. She trusted me completely. She trusted me so much she agreed to combine finances.” I held onto the steering wheel until my hands turned white. “And I wiped her out.”

“Seamus,” he whispered. My name had never sounded so pitiful.

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