The DH

by John Feinstein

  And they went, leaving Alex with three Cokes, wondering if everyone in the room could see how flushed his face was with anger.

  That could have been—should have been—the end of it. But Alex couldn’t let it go.

  When Christine and Matt returned a few minutes later, Matt obviously wanted to clear the air. “She’s all yours, Goldie,” he said. “I didn’t mean to horn in.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not all his, Matt,” Christine said, her eyes flashing. “First of all, I’m not all anyone’s. Second, I really don’t want to spend time with him right now. I’m going outside for a while.”

  “It’s kind of cold out there,” Alex said.

  But Christine was already walking away.

  “Well, thanks for that,” Alex said, turning on Matt. “Now you’ve got my girlfriend mad at me.”

  “Whoa, Goldie.” Matt put his hands up in mock defense. “I think you got your girlfriend mad at you by overreacting. All I did was dance with her a couple times. Wasn’t even a slow dance.”

  Matt had that in-control grin on his face, which only made Alex angrier.

  “Right. So you don’t think she’s pretty. You wouldn’t want to go out with her.”

  “I told you back in the fall I’d like to go out with her,” Matt said. “I also said I’d butt out because you liked her and she liked you. And you know what, buddy? She does like you. But you’re screwing it up—not me.”

  More of the grin. Alex lost control. Later, he wouldn’t even be able to explain what came over him. But he found himself swinging a wild right-handed punch in the direction of Matt’s head. If it had landed, it probably would have hurt Alex’s hand more than the side of Matt’s head.

  Even caught by surprise, Matt easily ducked the punch. “Goldie, cool down,” he said, the grin gone. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  Alex took another swing. This one Matt blocked with his arm. Then, as Alex flailed at him again, he bent down slightly and punched Alex in the stomach—not especially hard, but hard enough to knock the wind out of him and cause him to pitch forward onto the floor.

  Matt held out a hand to help Alex up.

  Alex was still trying to get his breath back, but he pushed Matt’s hand away. “I’m fine,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

  He was aware of the fact that everyone was now staring at them. The music had stopped. Matt was still standing there, hand out.

  “Come on, Goldie,” he said quietly. “Let me help you up and you can go to the bathroom and put yourself back together.”

  Alex decided the sooner he was off the floor, the better, but his stomach hurt enough that he wasn’t certain he could get up on his own. He reached up, and Matt pulled him to his feet. Matt then pulled him close enough so he could whisper.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You left me no choice.”

  Alex said nothing. He pulled his hand free and walked straight to the front door. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “Alex, it’s only a little after ten o’clock. Why do you need to come home now?”

  Alex had decided he really needed to go. He was angry at Christine and at Matt. But he was even angrier at himself. He had overreacted and upset Christine and had gotten himself knocked to the floor in front of everyone—a humiliating experience all around. So he’d called his mother.

  “Mom, I’m just really tired,” he said. “Can you please come and get me?”

  “What happened?” his mom continued. “Something’s wrong—I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Mom, please.”

  She sighed. “Molly’s asleep. I can’t just leave her here alone. You’re going to have to wait until Sandra comes to get you guys.”

  Sandra was Jonas’s mom. The thought of riding home in the same car with Christine—which would be the normal routine—terrified Alex.

  “She can’t have been sleeping that long, Mom,” he said. “It’s a Friday. Can you please wake her up? Or just leave her? She’ll be okay.”

  There was a long pause. “If I do that, Alex, I don’t want to hear ‘Everything’s fine’ when we get home. I want an explanation—a real one—about what could be so bad that I have to wake your sister up to come get you.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  She hung up. Alex sat down on the front steps to wait. It was a brisk March night. It was going to be a long fifteen minutes.

  Alex had been sitting for about ten minutes when he heard the door open behind him. His first thought was that someone was leaving, so he stood up to get out of the way. His second thought was worse—that it was Christine. It turned out to be neither. It was Jonas.

  “What in the world is wrong with you, dude?” he asked.

  Alex turned and walked onto the circular driveway, hoping that Jonas might take the hint and not follow him.

  “Hey,” he said. “I asked you a question.”

  “It’s really none of your business,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder and seeing Jonas right behind him.

  “No? I’m your best friend, and it’s none of my business? I’m the guy who listens to your moaning and groaning about Christine all the time, and it’s none of my business?”

  Alex stopped and turned to face Jonas. “I don’t moan and groan all that much.”

  Jonas laughed. “Really? If she talks about how good her hamburger tastes at Stark’s, you think she’s gonna run off with the cook. If she says ‘Thank you’ when someone opens a door for her, you think she’s flirting.”

  Alex knew Jonas wasn’t really wrong. He had been convinced once that a guy taking their tickets at a movie theater had been hitting on her when he said “Enjoy the film.”

  “Okay, okay, so I overreacted a little,” he finally conceded.

  “A little?” Jonas said.

  “You didn’t even see what happened,” Alex said. “What do you know?”

  “I know everyone in there is talking about how you lost your cool,” Jonas said. “I know Christine’s sitting on a couch with Matt comforting her because she’s so upset. Do I need to know much more?”

  For a split second, Alex was tempted to go inside and find out exactly what was going on. Fortunately, he realized that was a bad idea. It was probably the first smart decision he’d made all night.

  “Look, thanks for being worried,” he finally said as he saw headlights turning in to the driveway. “I’ll call Christine in the morning and apologize.”

  “You’d better,” Jonas said. “And you’d better cool your act down. I don’t know what’s going on with you or Matt right now, but I’m not in love with it.”

  Alex almost laughed. His mother was pulling up. He could see Molly sitting in the front seat.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, giving Jonas as much of a smile as he could muster. “Thanks.”

  He climbed into the car. It had been a long night.

  Remarkably, it helped to talk to his mother after they got home and Molly went back to bed. She listened as he told her what had happened and then smiled and patted him on the head lightly when he finished.

  “I know it doesn’t feel at all this way right now, but this is normal fourteen-year-old stuff,” she said. “Christine is your first girlfriend and also your first real crush. My guess is all of this makes your head hurt because it feels so important.”

  “Mom…”

  She put a hand up. “I know. It is important,” she said. “I completely get it. Eric Witsken was my first crush. I was thirteen. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to marry him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I have no idea,” she said, smiling. “We ended up going to different high schools—he went to a private school—and I never heard from him or anything about him again. By then, I was madly in love with Jerry Richman.”

  “So you’re saying if Christine breaks up with me, it’s no big deal?”

>   She shook her head. “I’m not saying that at all. But I don’t think she’s going to break up with you. She likes you, I’m guessing, just as much as you like her. Feeling jealous—even when there’s no reason to feel jealous—is perfectly normal. You just can’t let it overwhelm you the way it did tonight.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Jonas is right. You call her in the morning. You say you’re very sorry and ask her to have lunch with you at Stark’s.”

  She smiled. “And don’t lose your mind if one of the other boys in there looks at her twice or if she smiles at someone. She’s a nice person, so if she smiles at someone, it doesn’t mean she’s flirting.”

  Alex knew she was right. But knowing it when Christine was dancing with someone else would be harder. He stood up, bent down, and kissed his mom on the cheek. He was grateful she was around.

  Alex waited until nine o’clock to make the call.

  Christine answered right away, which he took as a good sign.

  “I’m really sorry about last night,” he said. “I was out of line. I just…get jealous, and I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “How’s your stomach?”

  He had hoped that maybe she hadn’t heard about Matt’s one-punch knockdown. It was unlikely, he knew, but a guy could dream.

  “It’s fine. Honestly, I’m more embarrassed than anything else.”

  “Well, you should be,” she said.

  He sighed. She was right, but did they really have to talk about it? He’d apologized; she’d accepted. Time to move on…to lunch.

  “How about Stark’s at eleven-thirty?” he said.

  There was a pause. “I can’t today,” she said finally.

  “You can’t?”

  “I’m going to the hockey game this afternoon with my dad.”

  “I thought Sunday was your day with your dad.”

  Christine’s parents were divorced—had been for a while. Christine lived with her mom but was close to her dad, who was an editor at the Philadelphia Daily News.

  “It is, but we change up sometimes, and you know I like hockey.”

  He did know that. “Okay, then. Have fun. Maybe tomorrow?”

  Another pause. “How about if I text you later?”

  He could feel that little chill that always ran through him when he was scared or thought something was wrong.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Another pause.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I need a little time to think. Give me a little space, okay?”

  Now it was Alex’s turn to pause.

  “I…,” he started, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not sure what that means. I thought you accepted my apology.”

  “I did,” she said. “And I do. I’m not mad at you. I just need to think about some things.”

  He wanted to press her, ask her what things she needed to think about, but he decided that would make things worse.

  “Okay,” he said. “Text me later.”

  “I will,” she said.

  She didn’t.

  Alex watched the hockey game on TV—the Flyers lost to the New York Islanders—and then spent the next couple of hours staring at his phone, as if he had some kind of special vision that would make a text magically appear.

  His mom fixed dinner and brought it into the living room so he could watch the NCAA basketball regional championship games when they started. By then, it was six o’clock. The hockey game had been over for more than two hours.

  Finally, Alex couldn’t help himself.

  How was the game? he texted, hoping to not sound overeager but knowing that Christine would see right through him.

  A few minutes later, a text finally appeared on his screen.

  Game was fun, but Flyers lost. Stark’s at 11:30 tomorrow?

  Alex felt as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  He texted right back: Great. See you then.

  With that, he took a bite of the chicken his mom had made and settled into the couch to watch the second basketball game. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he felt the tension drain out of his body.

  That feeling lasted until about 11:40 the next morning.

  For once, he arrived before Christine—who was almost freakish about being on time—walking into Stark’s at 11:25. It was virtually empty on a Sunday morning, and he grabbed the booth in the back where he and his friends liked to sit. Christine walked in two minutes later, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She didn’t smile at him as she sat down, simply slid into the other side of the booth and said, “You’re early.”

  “So are you.” He smiled, hoping to get a return smile.

  He didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even get a response. Just silence while the waitress came over to fill their glasses with water.

  When she left, Alex figured it was his move.

  “Look,” he said, “I know you were upset with me on Friday night—”

  She put up a hand.

  “I already accepted your apology when we talked yesterday. We don’t need to go over all of that again. Look, Alex, I know you’re a good guy, and I know that even good guys have a bad moment or a bad night. I get all that.”

  Alex knew there was a but coming but couldn’t think of a way to stop it.

  Christine plowed on.

  “Friday wasn’t just a onetime thing, though. I mean, it was, in terms of you picking a fight with Matt and acting crazy….”

  “I wasn’t that—”

  She put up a hand. He stopped.

  “Your jealousy is pretty relentless. I can feel it the way you look at me if I talk to any guy—at lunch or after French class or even when I’m interviewing other players. Every time I go anywhere near Matt, I feel like you’re going to explode.”

  “He does like you, you know.”

  She took a deep breath. “I know he likes me. Alex, a lot of guys like me. And you may not have noticed, but a lot of girls like you. You’re a star. You’re good-looking. You’re a good guy.”

  “But I’m not interested in any of them.”

  “And I’ve been trying to tell you since our first date in December that I’m not interested in anyone else, either. The difference is, you don’t trust me enough to believe that’s true. That’s what bothers me. And, for the record, we’re fourteen.

  “I know you feel insecure about things right now because you feel like you’ve lost your dad. But you can’t not trust me just because right now you don’t trust your dad.”

  Holy cow, Alex thought. Where did that come from?

  “When did you get your degree in psychiatry?” he asked—then wished he hadn’t.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t get angry. She smiled—for the first time all morning.

  The waitress came to take their orders.

  “I’m not staying,” Christine said. “I’m sorry. Alex, you should order a hamburger.”

  Alex was starving. But he felt a little bit sick to his stomach when he heard Christine say she wasn’t staying. “You want me to sit here alone and eat?” he asked.

  “I’ll sit with you if you want,” she said.

  Alex didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He ordered a hamburger and a vanilla milk shake.

  The waitress, after giving them both a funny look, walked away.

  “I’ll stay if you want me to,” Christine said again. “But you may not want me to. Look, what I’ve been trying to say is this: I like you—you know that. I didn’t want to talk yesterday because I wanted to think about things before I made any decisions.”

  Alex was starting to feel dizzy.

  “I’m not breaking up with you,” she said. “But I think we need a break. I’m a little overwhelmed. We’re both too young for feelings like that.”

  Alex felt like he was in a daytime soap opera. “You know, on TV whenever someone says ‘I need a break,’ that’s the end,” he said
. “When my parents said they were going to ‘experiment’ with being separated—that was the end.”

  “I know,” she said. “I knew you’d feel that way. But I’m not planning on going out with anyone else. I just need some time.”

  “You aren’t going to go out with Matt?”

  She stood up. “See what I mean?” she said. “I just told you I wasn’t going to go out with anyone, and you instantly doubted me. That’s why I’m doing this.”

  She patted him on the shoulder and left.

  A moment later, Alex’s food arrived. He sat and ate it alone—feeling about as lonely as he’d ever felt in his life.

  Alex couldn’t wait for school on Monday, if only because it would force him to think about something other than Christine. He almost called Jonas to tell him what had happened but realized he didn’t want to talk about it. He did tell his mom, and not surprisingly, she told him not to get too down.

  “These things happen in relationships, honey,” she said. “Christine’s right. You’re both fourteen. You’re both going to have many more relationships before you grow up. I know it doesn’t feel that way now, that it feels like the end of the world. But it’s not.”

  She was right—it did feel like the end of the world. Alex moped the rest of the day Sunday, trying to distract himself by watching the last two regional finals on television. Even an overtime game between Duke and Indiana couldn’t get his mind off Christine.

  When he walked into school Monday, he realized that the end of the weekend was a double-edged sword. Not only was he going to see Christine at some point—lunch, maybe; French class, for sure—but he was going to be confronted with questions and comments about what had happened at Hope’s house on Friday night.

  It started as soon as he reached his locker—with Jonas.

  “You square things with Christine?” he asked quietly, looking around to be sure no one else was listening.

  “I had lunch with her yesterday,” Alex said, hoping that would be enough of an answer.

  It wasn’t.

  “And?”