Page 53 of Wingmen

“My man.”

“What about you?” Elliot speared a bite of salad, anxiously redirecting the conversation. “How’s Renata?”

Diego sighed. Elliot heard him settle into the wicker chair on his patio. Somewhere on his end, a neighbor yelled something.

“She hates me. I told her she had to make that guy come talk to me – she won’t do it. So I found him on her Instagram and I sent him a message like, you know, telling him to watch his step or whatever, and now she found out and she won’t even talk to me.”

Elliot sighed, chewing. “Yeah, I don’t know, man. That’s not my area.”

“It’s not your problem, bro. I’ll figure it out.”

They chatted about Tampa and Diego’s Honda, and who they liked for the draft pick. Eventually, Diego went to bed, and Elliot put the phone back on the table and went back to TikTok.

He was avoiding calling his mother.

He’d been doing it all day. He’d gone to Force for longer than he needed to, and then to a movie by himself, and then he’dalmosttexted Dustin, just so he wouldn’t have to call her. But if today ended and he didn’t, it would be unforgivable.

He picked up the phone. His mom’s voice was small and quiet when she picked up at the other end.

“Hey Mijo.”

“Hey Mamá. Bendición.”

“Dios te bendiga, Mijo.”

He stared across the restaurant with the phone to his ear while the waiter put down his glass. Finally, his mom said, “Thanks for calling.”

“I should’ve called sooner.”

“No.” She sighed. “No, I should’ve called you.”

There were lots of things he could say now: how are you doing? What did you do today? He could say something nice about Uncle Salvador. They could talk about how they spent this day two years ago: when Sal came in from Miami and took them to that mini golf park and they lost the ball in a fountain and were laughing so hard they couldn’t even explain to the attendant what was going on.

“It’s a sad day,” said his mom. “Thanks for calling.”

“Of course.”

“What have you been doing?”

Sighing, he picked up his water. “Just the same stuff. Training. You know.”

“Are you eating?”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“And you have friends there? You met some people?”

She sounded relieved not to be talking about Sal, so he told her about Force, and Jackie at Pineapple. He mentioned Drew, and she wanted lots of details that he was happy to provide, because if he was talking about Drew he wasn’t talking about Dustin, and he was terrified he might slip up and start talking about Dustin. It wasn’t a real conversation, but it was as close as they’d gotten to one since last year.

He thought about Sal on the way up to his room.

He’d lived in Miami and Elliot didn’t see him all that often. But he was as close to a dad as Elliot figured he’d had. He wasn’t married, and he never had kids, so when he died, Elliot’s mom dealt with a lot of it. That’s what Elliot mostly rememberedabout last year: his mom being on the phone, explaining that she was Salvador’s sister. She didn’t have time to be doing this, she kept saying, she had a full-time job. Elliot just kept quiet and tried to cook and be helpful around the house. But he was about to go into the draft, and he didn’t have a lot of time either.

That ended up being a good thing. He just focused on the draft and didn’t think about Sal. He figured that’s what Bennet would have done. He knew from Bennet’s Wikipedia page that his dad died when he was ten, and he figured hockey probably helped Bennet forget and move on after that.

He showered and brushed his teeth, and checked the time on his phone. It was only eight-thirty, but he didn’t feel like going out. He put on a clean pair of sweats and theGolden Girlsand got into bed.

He was halfway through the episode where Burt Reynolds does his cameo when his phone lit up beside him. Elliot picked it up and squinted at the screen in the dim room.