Zach’s head is turning between us like he’s watching a tennis match. “Wait. You’ve—this morning? Before the game? You KNEW before the game and you didn’t?—”
“What was I going to do, tell you I knew about your secret girlfriend before you had to start Game 7? I’m chaotic, Z, I’m not insane.” He stretches his legs out and crosses his ankles. “I told Mackie I’d keep it quiet until after the game. And I did. You’re welcome.”
“Oh my god.” Zach’s hand comes up to cover his face. “Thebreakfast. The gym. ‘You’re a good person, Z.’ That’s what that was?”
“I was being supportive!”
“You were being weird. I thought you were having a stroke.”
“I was managing a very complicated emotional situation while maintaining game day focus. I read about compartmentalization in Juliette’s book.”
I’m laughing. I can’t help it. Zach is having a full existential crisis with his hand over his face and Rodriguez is sitting three feet away in a lawn chair drinking a beer and everything about this is so absurdly, perfectly us that I can’t do anything except laugh.
“Are you not—” Zach pulls his hand off his face. “Rodriguez. Are you not freaking out about this? At all?”
Rodriguez tilts his head. “I freaked out this morning. I did a lap of the hallway. I spilled coffee on the carpet.” He takes another sip. “But then I thought about it and here’s where I landed. You’re my best friend. Mackie’s basically family. You’re both dumb. Like, historically, all-time, hall-of-fame dumb. But you love each other and I’ve watched you be happier this season than the entire time I’ve known you and I’m not going to be the guy who makes that into a problem.” He looks at Zach. “Ride or die, Z. That’s the deal.”
Zach doesn’t say anything for a long time. Rodriguez drinks his beer. I’m sitting in the hot tub with my arms crossed over my chest. Zach finally let me go, and crossing them seemed polite. I'm watching these two figure out how to say what they mean without actually saying it.
“What really hurts my feelings,” Rodriguez continues. “Is that Barrett knew before me.”
“You told him about Barrett,” Zach says to me, mildly accusatory.
“He guessed.”
“Barrett walked in on you two at CHRISTMAS,” Rodriguezadds helpfully. “At the party. Where I WAS. Where I was playing white elephant while these two were?—”
“We were NOT?—”
“I don’t want the details.” Rodriguez holds up his hand. “Actually, yes I do. No. Wait. No. I don’t.” He takes a long drink of his beer. “I’m going to need a minute.”
“Take all the minutes you need.”
“Seven months. Seven months and I didn’t—the body wash, Z. The TROPICAL BODY WASH. It was her shampoo the whole time, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I KNEW IT. I told you nobody switches body wash like that! I said that! I said those exact words!”
“You did say those words.”
“And you LET me think it was body wash. You looked me in the eye and said ‘I switched body wash’ and I BELIEVED you because I’m a TRUSTING PERSON, Zach, I trust people, that’s my whole thing?—”
“Rodriguez.” I splash water at him to interrupt his spiral. “Thank you. For this morning. For not telling him and letting him focus on the game. That meant everything.”
He’s quiet for a second. Then he nods. “Of course.” He looks at Zach. “She’s good for you, Z. I’ve known that since the body wash.” Then turns back to me. “He’s good for you too, Mackie. Even though he’s going to age approximately forty years once Jack finds out and whatever’s left of him will need extensive rehab.”
“That’s very encouraging.”
“I’m a realist.” He finishes his beer and stands up. “Okay. I’m going back inside. You two enjoy your”—he gestures at the hot tub—“situation. I’m going to go process the fact that I’ve been the last to know about everything in my life, apparently, including my best friend dating the alternate captain’s daughter for the better part ofa year, and Barrett knew before me, which I will never, ever, EVER forgive you for.”
He walks toward the door then stops and turns back.
“Also, Mackie.”
“Yeah?”
“The smoothie thing. The spinach. That was you?”
