Page 57 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
His hopes burst faster than air from a whoopee cushion once he opened the door and saw who it was. “Hey,” Henry said, sagging against the doorframe.
“Really? That’s the greeting I get?” Lance shoved past him into the foyer. “After I listened to you prattle on all crazy-like about your love life?”
“Sorry. It’s been a busy couple of days. You want something—” Henry waved his hand toward the kitchen, where Lance had already disappeared—“to drink? Help yourself.”
Henry closed the front door. By the time he entered the kitchen, Lance was already holding a shot glass with the wordsVirginia Is for Loverswritten across it.
Henry sank onto one of the kitchen island stools and watched Lance toss the dark amber drink to the back of his throat, swallow, then slam the shot glass down. “Ah, that’s good stuff.”
“That’s iced tea.”
“Well, I’ve got to be at work in ten minutes. What did you expect me to drink? Whiskey?”
“It’s seven thirty in the morning. How about some coffee?”
“In a shot glass?”
“In a mug.”
Lance shook his head, pouring himself another shot of tea. He held it in front of his lips a long moment, staring over Henry’s shoulder and out the window. “This isn’t the kind of conversation men have over coffee mugs.” He tossed his head back and slammed the shot glass down on the table.
“Would you stop doing that? You’re going to break the glass.”
“I’m in trouble, Henry.”
“What kind of trouble?” Henry got up and grabbed a plastic cup from the cupboard, switched it out with the shot glass, then grabbed a coffee mug for himself. He still didn’t care much for the taste of coffee, but he’d gotten into the habit of it while Edith was living here. He had yet to break it. Or any desire to break it.
“The worst kind of trouble there is. Woman trouble.”
Henry grunted. “I’m probably the last person you should be coming to for advice then. Have you tried Crazy Al?” He popped a K-Cup into the new Keurig machine he’d bought a few days ago and punched the ten-ounce button as Lance continued talking.
“It’s not that having a kid is a deal breaker. I like kids. Ilovekids. And her kid is great. But she should have told me about her kid before I led her to believe I was a world-class athlete, you know? And definitely before we started smooching. A man says things to a woman—things that might get construed the wrong way—when they’ve reached the smooching stage of their relationship, if you know what I’m saying. And I think you know what I’m saying.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.” Henry retrieved his mug and leaned against the counter, taking a small sip.
“Baseball, man. Baseball.” Lance sloshed some tea into his plastic cup and drank it all down in one swallow. He slammed the cup down with a muted clink. “That sound is not nearly as satisfying as the shot glass.”
“What are you talking about, baseball?”
“The woman I’m dating. Things are moving fast. Getting serious. Everything’s perfect except for one major thing. She thinks I know everything there is to know about baseball.”
“Why does she think that?”
“Because I told her I know everything there is to know about baseball.”
“Why—?”
“We were smooching!”
Henry set his mug on the counter and rubbed his forehead. “So she thinks you know a lot about baseball. So what?”
“I don’t know anything about baseball. I live and breathe basketball. But do you think her kid plays basketball? Noooo. Her kid plays baseball. And guess who’s got a bad case of shingles? Yep. Her kid’s baseball coach. So who do you think she volunteered to fill in for the coach in the meantime? Yep!This guy!”
Henry exchanged the plastic cup back for the shot glass and filled it with tea. Handed it to Lance. “Go ahead.”
Lance tossed the tea to the back of his throat. “Aaahhhh,” he said as if it burned all the way down to his stomach. Then he slammed the glass down with a loud thunk. “So I need you, man.”
“Sure. I’ll give you a few pointers.”
