Page 50 of Fake Love

Mom had her latest check up a few days ago, so I called to see what they told her.

Another month of no growth. Doctors are optimistic that if she continues, they can get her into surgery and remove the tumors.

She sounded a lot more happier than she did after her appointment last month, so hopefully that means that she is gaining her faith back that it will all work out.

My mom lets out a sigh. “That is true,” she says, before taking a pause and coming back sounding a lot more awake. “So tell me what’s going on. Why are you pacing in the middle of the night, overthinking things?”

She knows me so damn well.

I stop the pacing and throw myself on the couch before answering her.

“What if my games in Sacramento were just a fluke? What if I’m not mentally ready to get back on the mound at this level?”

“Maybe they were. Maybe they were a fluke and you will never pitch like that again. Maybe your mind isn’t ready to be on a mound pitching to players that have home run records that beat Babe Ruth and have more Silver Sluggers awards than you will ever get. Maybe you being nervous is your mind’s way of telling you not to go out there and to just go back to Sacramento where you can pitch like a champ. You have all these maybes, Maddox, but what if those maybes are wrong? You don’t know if it was a fluke or if you really aren’t mentally ready. You won't know until you get out there and throw the damn ball.”

This is why I called the woman. I needed someone to whoop me out of my headspace and get myself out of all the maybes and what ifs.

“You sure know how to give a motivational speech at 2 in the morning.” I say to her letting her words sink in.

Ma lets out a yawn before she answers. “Yeah, well when your almost thirty year old son calls you so late, you have to pull out all the stops to get him out of his head.”

“Well I appreciate you whipping my mind into shape.”

“Uh-huh, and I would appreciate it if you told me about that girl I’ve been seeing all over social media.” She says and I can't tell if she is mad that I have yet to tell her about Jen or happy about the whole thing.

Ever since I reposted the picture of Jen at the Sacramento game, the picture has made its rounds. So much so that even some of the major sport sites have posted it. People are talking about me and Jen and wanting to know more and it’s only been a week.

I knew my mom was going to see it at some point since she keeps up with everything that has to do with me. I just expected her to call me out a whole lot sooner than right now.

I let out a sigh. “Her name is Jen and it’s relatively new, I guess. I was going to tell you if and when we crossed the line to official.”

The lies roll off better than expected. I knew I was going to be able to lie to the Miners and to the fans, but my mom had me nervous. Hopefully she doesn’t see right through me.

“From the pictures I’ve seen of her, she looks like a sweet girl. I have one question though,” She states.

I nod even if she can’t see. “What question?”

“Does she make you smile?”

Her question should have stumped me. It should have made me think about how to answer it, but instead I just blurt out the answer.

“Yes, she does.”

It’s not a lie. Out of what I just told my mom about what is going on with me and Jen, that is not a lie. Jen does make me smile and it's in the best fucking way, there’s no denying that.

Every time she comes to mind, a smile forms and its been happening more and more ever since my first Sacramento game.

Maybe it was knowing that she had made the trip just to see me play.

Maybe it was the kiss that happened on the field or the one in the parking lot.

I don’t know but something in me shifted and given our current situation, that shift is a very, very bad thing.

“I can hear it in your voice,” my mom says, getting me out of the Jen bubble I am. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“When we head to Chicago this summer, maybe I’ll bring her along so you can.”

“I can’t wait.” She says through a yawn.

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