Chapter 10: Dave

Emily had been a sweetheart, all evening long. She and Ms. Washington really hit it off, after a few early awkward moments, when Ms. W seemed to be waiting for Emily to treat her like hired help, or something. I wasn't worried about anything like that, but I was nevertheless pleasantly surprised at how at ease Emily was, around all us common people. I guess they raise them right, down in Horse Country.

I guess Ms. Washington and I were both a lot more class-conscious than Emily was. Anyway, we got over it, and I thought our evening out was a huge success for all four of us. Obviously, my little brother Eddie was already desperately in love with Emily himself. Who could blame him?

Life was, indeed, good, although if I'd managed to scratch out something more than that joke single, sometime that night, then "life" would have been a whole lot better. My average was down in the .240 range now, and still falling like a rock. I was seeing Rick Dempsey in my dreams -- even my daydreams.

He wasn't smiling.

Emily, however, successfully took my mind off all that. She complimented my work behind the plate, and told me that she agreed with Eddie's assessment -- Cap Rogers would never have held Lynchburg to only two hits without my good help. Well, I secretly thought that was probably the Gospel Truth, myself, but of course I pretended modesty and gave all the credit to our fire-balling pitcher. Cap Rogers might not be a future Randy Johnson, but the fact is, the kid was an excellent prospect. His chances of moving up were, at that moment, a whole lot rosier than -- for example -- mine.

After dinner (Oh, my God! I'll never be able to zero-down the VISA card this month!), we dropped Eddie and Ms. W. off at the house and Emmy and I headed out again. It was the first time the two of us had ever been truly alone. Sure, we'd had our little walk outside the Country Club, just five evenings earlier, but we had been on the double-date leash, joined at the hip to the Beautiful People -- Jessica Wainwright (can you believe that name?) and the even-more-beautiful Alex Harrell.

Well, this was no time for me to be ridiculing Mr. Harrell. He had, after all, furnished the car, the dinner, the entire evening -- and, but for Mr. Alex Harrell, I'd never have met and connected with this incredible young woman, Emily Anne Shreve of the Virginia Shreves.

Probably a Republican. Surely raised as one. But, hey, nobody's perfect. We just wouldn't talk about politics. There were lots of Republicans, back in Coshocton, too. I think my Dad might have secretly been one, even. He was a working man, all his life, but sometimes, I think he thought of himself more as Management.

Anyway, Emily and I, while we were staring at each other over beers at a modest-but-lively downtown club, found ourselves talking about -- you guessed it -- my Little Brother Eddie.

Topic A.

Well, I hadn't started it. Sure, I had bragged on Eddie a little, during our previous date, but tonight, I'd done my level best to steer the conversation to my Topic A: Emily Anne Shreve, Her Life and Times.

She wasn't having it. We talked, first, about Eddie. He was, she said, everything I had claimed: He was sweet, smart, and articulate beyond his modest years. Wonder Boy, that was Eddie.

OK, I was glad she felt that way. So, Emmy? How was the job? Have you done any more thinking about Graduate School in the fall?

"Eddie's worried about you," Emily said.

"Hey! I thought we were talking about you -- for a change," I said. It was my last try, it turned out. Seems Emily had a Topic A in mind, too. And, this trip, Topic A wasn't Eddie.

It was me.

"Eddie doesn't have to worry about me, I'm fine," I declared. I think I sounded pretty convincing. Hell, I thought what I was saying was true!

"Eddie says you're spending too much time worrying about him," Emily said. "He says you need to worry more about yourself, and your needs."

"The kid is bright. Precocious, even. But he's not a Goddamned psychiatric social worker," I told her. "He can't decide what's wrong with me."

"But, he can have an opinion... You're the most important person in his life!"

"He's the most important person in my life, too."

"Eddie thinks he's too important, in your life."

"That's bullshit," I told her. "We're a great team! We get along great!"

"Eddie thinks you need... a girlfriend."

I laughed. "Well, he's right about that!... You want to apply for the job?"

"Yes," she said. "I do."

Emily Anne Shreve wasn't joining in my lighthearted tease. She sounded dead serious.

"Hey, I'm sorry!" I told her. "I was only kidding."

"No you weren't. Not entirely. You asked me if I wanted to be your girlfriend... Were you just kidding, about that?"

"Well. I. Well. I think it's kind of early, isn't it? To... you know, to put you on the spot, like that? I mean... we've just met, and all."

"I don't mind," Emily said.

"What?"

"I don't mind, being put on the spot, like that."

"Oh."

"I think we're pretty great together," she said.

"Oh. I. Yeah. I mean, I think we're great together, too," I told her. "I just didn't want to be, y'know, pushy. Presumptuous."

"You're not."

"OK. OK, that's... that's... nice. I mean, great. I mean, oh, Hell, Emily! I just... I'm a little surprised, is all."

"Why? Why are you surprised? I haven't been playing coy, or cold, or... or... stand-offish... Have I?"

"No. You... haven't been any of those things. But you're way out of my league, Emily. I feel -- outclassed."

"You're not."

"Are you kidding me? I can barely string a sentence together, when I'm around you!"

She laughed. "It's true!" she said. "Eddie can formulate a sentence, better than you can. But I attributed that to your being... more closely involved."

"You and Eddie. You've been having a long talk, tonight, about me. Right?"

"Yes. We had the pre-game warm-ups. And the game. The game was fast -- what? Only a little over two hours? But Eddie and I were together, there, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the stands, for all that time. Before. During. After. We got to be chums. Buds. And we watched you play, and Eddie explained everything you did, and why, and how well you were doing it! He's nuts about you! It's catching."

"Catching? My catching? I don't..."

No -- not your catching. I'm talking about... not about baseball. Eddie's love for you; his feelings about you. That's catching!... Contagious, I mean! By the time the game was over, I was feeling the same way about you as Eddie does."

"Brotherly love?"

"Well." She laughed, again. I loved her laugh. God, I really liked this girl! "Not exactly like brotherly love," she said. "... Or sisterly, either!"

"So, you're saying Little Brother is trying to line me up with a girlfriend?"

"Yes. And he's good at it!... Did you teach him that? How to get you girls?"

"No way! I'm not that smooth -- as you must surely have noticed, by now."

"I guess it just comes naturally to him," Emily said.

"It's getting late," I told her. "Let's head back, get some sleep."

"Yes," she said. "... Day game after a night game. And you're catching both games. Eddie says that's hard on you, physically."

"Is there anything you and Eddie didn't talk about? The situation in the Middle East, maybe? Crude oil prices?"

"We talked about you, mostly," Emily said again.

Yeah. I'd already figured that out.

When we got back to the house, there was only one light on -- a table lamp in the living room, just inside the front door. "Eddie's bedroom is down the hall, past the bathroom," I told Emily. "You go ahead and get ready for bed first. I'll wait for you in the kitchen.

It wasn't really the kitchen -- it was the dining room table -- an old-fashioned metal-and-chrome monstrosity that looked as if it had been rescued from a landfill somewhere. It came with the apartment. Emily knew I didn't mean that little alcove there with the stove and fridge. She went down the hall to the bathroom.