Page 105 of The Fall Classic

My flight was delayed forty minutes, and when I texted her to tell her that, I said I wished I could have spent that extra forty minutes with her.

That message is still showing “Delivered.” I have no idea if she’s read it, or not, because what grown-up turns read receipts on? All I know is I’ve gotten used to texting her all night long when I’m out of town, and if that trend suddenly stops⁠—

It’s not going to stop. You’re catastrophizing.

I look at my phone, where my text is still up telling her I wish I had more time with her.

It’s been three hours. This long without hearing from Georgie is at least a small catastrophe.

***

I put on my headphones and pull up the hood of my gray hoodie as I walk through O’Hare’s famed terminals. The main concourse is as picturesque as the Home Alone movies make it look, all soaring glass and steel trusses, and somewhere in another terminal is the tunnel with the neon ceiling everyone takes pictures of. People are rushing too much to notice me at first, but because Chicago is a baseball town and I look exactly like my dumb famous brother, soon enough, I have people whispering, pointing, and asking me for selfies and autographs.

“I’m not Lucas,” I tell them each time.

Most of the time, they’re big enough fans to realize that the Firebirds are ending a game right now, so I can’t be him.

And sometimes, they’re huge jerks.

“You broke up Jake Rodgers and his girlfriend. You suck, Fischer!”

I have to bite my tongue the half dozen times that gets yelled at me. I can’t tell them Jake and Scottie were fake dating to rehab Jake’s image and that when Lucas and Scottie were caught together, they weren’t cheating. Jake’s PR makeover worked too well, and he’s now one of the most popular players on the team—especially among women. Lucas was in hot water for a few days while Jake and Scottie worked on a joint statement that settled most fans.

Not all of them, clearly.

I reach baggage claim without getting fully mauled, and I see the driver the team sent holding a sign with my name on it. Rojas arrived with his wife and baby yesterday, Dad’s in Milwaukee umping a game, and Lucas and Coop are still playing, which means Liesel and Scottie are also occupied at work.

I sit in the back seat alone while the driver takes me to the short-term corporate apartment the team’s put me up in. The light from the city streets shows me my reflection in the window as I watch the city.

And it’s that same lonely reflection that accompanies me up the elevator and into my sleek new apartment.

I drop my bags and look around the modern, perfectly tidy kind of apartment I always thought I wanted … until Lucas moved out. Until I saw Georgie’s place, teeming with mementos and memories. I know she’s holding on to too much, but after seeing the heart and soul of her apartment, something like this is too far in the opposite direction.

This apartment reminds me of the hollowness of March to August—the empty silence that greeted me when I stepped into my apartment after a road trip, the cold quiet I slept in, read in, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner in. So many hours filled with the rasp of my breathing or the whisper of a page turning or the animated narration of whatever audiobook was playing in my ears while I folded laundry. How many times did I turn the TV on in the other room so I wouldn’t feel so alone?

Dropping my keys, wallet, and hat on the entry table, a chill spreads through my chest.

I can’t go back to this life.

I’m not using Georgie to fill a void instead of learning to handle isolation, am I?

Shut up, I tell my anxiety. I didn’t imagine our connection during Spring Training, and I know I’m not making it up now.

But am I rushing things with her because I hate feeling isolated? Because I’m practically allergic to my own thoughts?

You’re only wondering this because she hasn’t responded yet. Calm your mind.

I fall into a leather armchair that’s more comfortable than it looks and massage my scalp, thinking about the feeling of nothingness when I float in the tank. My eyes fall closed, and I shift them left and right and left in right in a simple bilateral stimulation that makes my heart stop racing.

That’s progress, right?

My phone buzzes, and my eyes fly open.

Georgie

Hey, did you make it? I’m sorry your flight was delayed and that I missed your text. My dad’s in town and we had a family dinner. I went for a walk after to clear my head and forgot my phone. I’m sorry if you were worried at all.

Logan