Vintage Rob

Chapter 5 - An Unfriendly Game of Racquetball

The day after dinner at Paul's house, Rob fell into the chair by Jennifer's office door and stretched out his legs. "Do you mind if I mope here?"

"Please do." She smiled at the computer screen. Her manicured hands tapped the keyboard. "But I'm on a roll. One second."

He pressed his folded hands into his stomach and twirled his thumbs.

Yesterday brought so much trouble. While she typed, he examined the rows of economics books on her bookshelf.

"Borrow one." She grinned.

"I only have time for one economics book in this life. Which one is the best?"

She lifted her hands high off the keyboard with the flourish of a concert pianist at the end of a piece. "In that case, take the one with my name on the spine." She swiveled her chair to face him. "But never mind that, tell me what happened last night. Wait, hold that thought." Her long earrings swayed as she removed a thick plastic folder from the top of her desk. As she placed it on the other side of the computer, her violet dress stretched across her back and outlined her buttocks.

Beautiful, intelligent, competent - just not his type. Or, he wasn't hardwired to lust after his brother's girlfriend. He wasn't Biblical enough.

"Okay, out with it," she said, hands in her lap.

"So I'm an ass. I didn't get Makiko's address or number, and she's been to Paul's house within the last year." He crossed his legs and arms. "His son, Caleb, let it slip."

"That makes you an ass?"

"Well, I said some things I shouldn't have, just to be predictable."

She makes a tent with her hands, fingertips on fingertips. "Maybe you're being too hard on yourself."

Jennifer met Rob's brother after Yukiko and Makiko left. Unfortunately, she was probably wrong. "You have a wonderful way with words," he said.

"Everyone says things they regret, Rob."

"They told me Makiko doesn't want to see me. I'm dead to her."

Jennifer puckered her mouth, rolled back her chair an inch or two, and stared at him like she had just asked him something. Leafless branches sashayed outside the window behind her.

"I let too many years go by," he said, tapping his fingers on the chair's armrests. The white ceiling reminded him of the winter sky outside. "I know where Makiko's grandparents live, or used to... I should track her down that way, right?"

"Yes, proceed respectfully, apologize, and live happily ever after."

"Exactly."

"If you're lucky, Makiko will be a Gears fan."

He puffed out a little laugh.

"Challenge Paul to a game of racquetball," she said. "Apologize to him too."

Rob could be humble. And nonviolent. And peace-loving. "Mmm, maybe."

***

When Paul's white Volvo pulled to the curb in front of the racquetball club, Rob stopped touching his toes. Paul hopped out of the passenger side, right on time, the white hairs of his trim beard sparkling in the early morning sun.

In the driver's seat, Molly chirped goodbye as Paul yanked a blue and white gym bag out of the car. He threw the bag over his shoulder, closed the car door with a soft push, and waved. It was a few days after Christmas, but sunglasses covered Molly's eyes. She flicked her hand goodbye as the car entered the road.