Chapter 5

We had a home series with Cleveland and I started all three games at DH. I had two hits in the series opener and started feeling all warm and fuzzy about my comeback from the beaning.

But I went O-for-9 in the following two games.

While the Indians were catching a plane for their next stop, I got on the phone to Sandra Graffinino.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Graffinino?"

"Yes."

"My name is Joshua Brennan. You were recommended to me by Dr... "

"Yes, he told me you might call."

"He did?"

"Yes. Several days ago. I was beginning to think you wouldn't call, but I see you took the collar two nights in a row against -- jeez! --Cleveland!"

"Yeah."

"If I'm not mistaken, that's the first time, since you've been in the majors, that you went two games in a row without at least one hit."

"If I'm not mistaken, that's the first time that's happened to me, period! --I mean, in any league."

"Pretty scary, huh?"

"Well -- yes, it is."

"You want to meet, maybe have a cup of coffee?" she asked me.

"Tonight?"

"Well, you're leaving, late tomorrow, aren't you, for a road trip? We'd better get started."

We agreed to meet at a restaurant she liked called "Benji's" just east of downtown. She had to give me directions.

Benji's turned out to be kind of a dive, specializing in Chili Macs and beer. But it was doing a good business and I ended up taking a table outside the enclosed dining area, out in a kind of grungy open-air terrace. I gathered this was the smoking section.

Before I could get settled in, a small brunette with very pale skin, freckles, big green eyes and a compact little body approached me. The young woman had a very confident manner.

"Josh?"

"Yeah. You Ms. Graffinino?"

"Sandy," she said.

"Sandy."

"You had anything to eat?"

"No."

"Try the Chili-Mac. It's the best! But don't try to order any fancy beers. They've just got National Bohemian."

"Never tried it."

"It's OK. Used to be brewed here. They still like it here in Bal'mer. Anyway, you want beer at Benji's, that's what you order."

"OK."

Some fat guy with a dirty wet towel came by and gave our table a careless swipe. "Two Macs," Sandy told him, "and two Natty Bohs." Fat guy left.

"Nobody here seems to recognize you," Sandy said.

"Why would they? I've only been in town for six weeks."

"Yeah, but, hey, Josh -- you're a major-league ballplayer! A .400-hitting ballplayer."

"Well. I was, for awhile, there."

"Doc says your vision's fine."

"Yeah. He thinks it's all in my head."

"What do you think?"

"Well, I think it must be all in my head. I see the ball ok, and I don't -- consciously -- bail out on it, at all. But I've pretty much quit hitting."

"It's only been -- what? A few games, right?"

"Six games. I've got -- like -- four hits, all singles, in six games -- something like that."

"By your standards, that's not so good."

"That's right. I'm hitting .230 for the six games."

"You seeing a shrink?"

"Not yet. Doc says that might help, long-term, but there's nothing I can expect from those guys, overnight. I mean, they prescribe drugs, and stuff, but drugs aren't an answer to this kind of problem, I don't think."

"Did he tell you anything about what I do?"

"No. He just said you weren't -- a professional shrink. But he said you'd helped some people."

"Yeah. Here's the chili."

The chili Macs came in huge, thick white bowls, with the macaroni all mixed in with chili meat and beans, and it was incredibly good. They gave us corn muffins with it. The beer was cold and wonderful.

"Damn! This place is all right," I said.

"Yeah."

We stopped talking and enjoyed the meal.

"You mind if I smoke?" Sandy said after we'd each ordered a second beer.

"No. Go ahead."

"She whipped out a package of weird-looking dark-brown cigarettes and lit one up. It was cigarette-shaped, but it smelled like a small cigar. While Sandy was going thru the smoker's lighting-up ritual, I took the opportunity to look at her more closely.

She was young. Maybe not as young as I, but close to it. Well under 30, anyway. She was tiny and built like a model for a girlie magazine, although everything was pretty much in miniature. I guess her breasts weren't all that large, but they seemed enormous, considering how small everything else was. I had expected her to be wearing a granny dress or some such, since she'd been described to me as a hippy-type. Instead, she wore super-tight Levis that must have required a shoe-horn to enter or exit. If the material hadn't been such heavy denim, the Levis looked tight enough to give her a major league camel toe.