Page 54 of Pete and His Precious

The scene is just like I imagine, although Pete is smiling. Granted, it’s one of those smiles that could be a grimace too.

Baxley looks calm and relaxed. She always does so, I suppose it makes sense that she looks that way now. And she’s obviously just as good as Pete said she was. I don’t know of any ping-pong clubs or competitions around our small town, but Bexley could definitely benefit from such a thing. Although, if she has to move to the city in order to do it, I think that the risk would outweigh any benefits.

I remind myself that I belong here. It’s my family’s home. Pete is the one who is out of place. But, I feel like I’m intruding a bit as I walk to the middle of the table, back far enough that I don’t disturb their concentration, and lean against the arm of the couch. Watching.

They appear pretty evenly matched, although I would say Pete is just a touch better. Sure enough, Bexley misses the ball, and she turns to chase it.

Pete, his lips turned up in a grin, looks at me. “I thought that might have been you,” he says, and he sounds pleased.

I squirm inside. The flowers feel heavy between us, but he doesn’t seem to notice. It’s just me.

And why should I make it weird? I determine that I won’t. Mentally, I straighten my shoulders, and I return his smile.

“You guys are good,” I say, and I mean it. “It’s fun to watch people who are good at what they do.”

“Or listen to them,” Pete says, and I blink in surprise, and then tilt my head in acknowledgment. He is giving me a compliment.

“Aunt Zoe! Did you see that?” Baxley says, coming over with the ball and wrapping her arms around me. I love that our relationship is good enough that she hugs me when she sees me. It makes me feel...wanted, I guess. I suppose I don’t always feel that way in my family.

“I sure did. That was pretty amazing. I’m not sure which one of you is better.” I don’t mean to make it into a competition. People have a tendency to do that. Everything becomes trying to be better than everyone around you. And I don’t want to foster that, but at the same time, a little bit of healthy competition makes a person better. It drives them to do more, to put more effort in, see how much they can accomplish. I compete against myself all the time. I have benchmarks from what I did previously, and I always try to beat them.

Kylie hated it when I did that. She would say “can’t you just enjoy life, does it always have to be a competition”. And she called me competitive like it was a bad word.

I guess I tried to stifle that side of myself, since she hated it so much and she always said that growing up. Like me being competitive is a bad thing.

But, it’s obvious that Pete is pretty competitive too. Still, he grins at my words, and points to Baxley. “She is.”

“I’m the one that missed that ball,” Baxley says, holding up the ball and moving away from me.

I let her go. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have children of my own, and while I don’t want to put any pressure on Baxley to be my child along with Kylie’s, I do feel like I love her like my own.

Of course, I don’t have children of my own, so I couldn’t say that for sure. Maybe if I did have my own kids I would love them with a love that I don’t even know about yet.

That’s hard to fathom, but people have told me it’s true. You don’t realize how strong love can be until you become a parent.

I don’t know why I am thinking about that stuff now. I focus on Baxley. “You’re younger. Much younger. And I’m guessing he’s had a lot more years of practice.”

“We had a ping-pong table growing up, just like Baxley. I also turned it against the wall so that I could play by myself when no one else would. But I have three brothers. I usually didn’t lack for a partner. Although, I could beat their butts pretty easily, and it did get harder and harder to get them to play with me as I got older.”

He has three brothers. Did I know that? I try to imagine him in a family of four boys, all of them with Pete’s drive for right and with his sense of humor and ability to be tender. It’s a nice picture.

I also love the way he interacts with Baxley.

“No wonder you’re so good,” I say.

“You got a lot of practice?” Baxley says. “I guess I always thought that if I had siblings, I wouldn’t have to play by myself anymore.”

Pete shakes his head. “When you’re good, people don’t like to play against you, because it makes them look bad. But I always thought playing against someone better than me helped me become a better player. After all, how can I become a better player against someone that I beat easily?”

Baxley seems to be thinking about this, and nodding slowly.

“I agree with that,” I volunteer, because I do think it’s true. It’s not fun to lose, but the lessons that you learn from losing are almost always better than the lessons you learn from winning, even though winning feels better. In fact, sometimes it’s hard to take lessons from winning, and you just want to sit around and think that you’re a lot better than what you actually are.

“It’s good to see you,” Pete says, almost as though he’s trying to figure out a way to ask why I am there.

“Aunt Zoe usually visits me a couple of times a week. We hang out together, but she never plays ping-pong with me.”

“She doesn’t?” he says, looking thoughtfully at her. Then he turns those deep, soulful eyes to me. “Why not?”

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