Page 71 of Right Up His Alley

If he would have just talked to me before he made the decision to spend everything he had, I would have given him my winnings from Dallas. He wouldn’t have accepted them, but it would have bought us a little more time to think of something. Anything to save the alley from being closed down. We could have figured it out. But instead…

Goodbye, Ezra, I⁠—

I don’t know what I was trying to say before I left the alley. It’s still stuck in my chest, half-formed, like something I swallowed wrong and can’t cough up. Was it I want to be with you no matter what? Was it I can’t fight for us if you don’t want to fight too?

Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither. I don’t know anymore.

All I know is I didn’t say it. I let the moment pass, and now I’m here, a week later, pretending I haven’t given up. But all I’m doing is standing still, waiting for something that isn’t coming. Allowing anger to creep in and blaze fiery flames of regret on the inside.

I keep telling myself that waiting isn’t the same as giving up. That I’m still here, still willing. But if Ezra has decided not to let me in, how are we supposed to pretend we’re still… us?

I don’t know how to fight for someone who’s already walked away, especially when I feel this hopeless. Ezra would rather lose everything we’ve started building than ask me for help.

And I can’t stop wondering if that’s really the kind of person I deserve to be with. Someone I want to save, even when he won’t let me. Everything in me tells me not to give up on him, but I don’t know what else to do to prove he doesn’t have to carry this alone.

Maybe the only thing left I could have given him was to show him the truth. To give him real proof I would walk away from the USBC Championship for him. For Spare Time. If I had been honest from the beginning, clear and decisive about not competing, maybe he would have leaned on me more. Maybe we wouldn’t have spent weeks sneaking around. Maybe then he would’ve believed he wasn’t alone. That I chose him because I wanted him, not because of anyone or anything else.

But like Ezra said: That’s it.

I need to move on, even though it’s the last thing I want. I need to do what I do best, I guess. What I was meant to do.

The USBC Championship is coming up. Since taking the Dallas title, I’ve advanced to the finals. Even though they haven’t announced the hosting alley yet, it doesn’t matter. I have to be ready. If I’m not allowed to help fix up Spare Time anymore, then fine. I’ll focus on what I can do. What I’ve given my whole life to do. I’ll practice, I’ll bowl, and I’ll win. I’ll keep my damn head down and push through because that’s all I have left.

But then there is Spare Time. It’s the only option. If it gets miraculously chosen, I’ll be forced to practice, bowl, and fucking win there.

Because that’s who I am, right? A champion. Nothing else.

When I pull into Spare Time’s parking lot, I glance around, relieved and nauseated all at once. His car sits in the same spot it always does.

It’s a public place. If I pay my way, there isn’t any reason I wouldn’t be able to stay and practice. Right?

Inside, the alley feels off. There are a couple families here today, a couple older customers too. But it’s still very quiet. Too open. Lonely, even.

Ezra doesn’t notice me come in, but I spot him heading down Lane 6 to grab two balls stuck in the gutter. His head hangs low, the middle of his shoes skimming the lane with every step. I look behind the counter, hoping he’s asked someone, maybe Damien, to help him out today, so they can set me up and I can avoid talking to him for as long as possible.

Thankfully, and shockingly, Ezra’s mom is there, lining up rows of rental shoes. She looks up when she sees me, relief washing over her face. She hurries around the counter. “Truett.”

“Hi, Mrs. J.” I glance toward Lane 6, making sure Ezra didn’t hear my name carry across the alley. But he’s gone now. Probably disappeared into the back with the pinsetters. “Nice surprise seeing you here today.”

“I needed to show up.” She shoves her hands into her pants’ pocket. “Even if I’m the last person he wants to be around right now, Ezra can’t really turn down free labor while he’s trying to fix this place up.” She forces a small smile. “Which reminds me, you’re here to help too, right?”

“Unfortunately, no.” I shake my head. “And you’re wrong about being the last person he wants to be around right now. Ezra definitely doesn’t want to see me either.”

She frowns. “I don’t think that’s true.”

A defeated smile barely tugs at the corner of my mouth.

She presses a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry, mijo. This is all my fault.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Mrs. J. There are a lot of other factors.”

“No, I should have been honest with him about the books. The budget. The finances.” Her voice thins. “I thought we’d have more time. My husband was always just so good at managing everything. If things were bad, he never let it show.”

“Mr. Jiménez was a pretty spectacular man.”

“He was. And so is Ezra. I really thought my son could have it all. I was hoping for it.” She gives me this look that’s somehow full of love and apology at the same time. “Even if things don’t work out with you two, I want you to know you’ll always have a home here. Spare Time is as much yours as anyone’s. My husband would have agreed, and I know Ezra does too.”

I swallow the knot rising in my throat and smile, polite but small. I could ask if she knows more, but small conversation and walking away feels like the right thing to do. “Thank you, Mrs. Jiménez. Really. That means a lot.”