chapter twenty-one
He didn’t need to keep his appointment with the doctor, not after landing BikeHouse. His boss would never ask about the visits again. Dave had come today because, for the first time since their conversations had started, he had something he needed to discuss.
She started first. “Let’s talk about baseball,” she said.
“Baseball?”
“Sure, why not? On your first visit you mentioned that you once coached a youth team. I’m just wondering, why baseball?”
“Well, because it’s a fabulous sport.”
He would often anticipate her questions. Not this time. “But why is it so great?” she persisted. “Don’t grown men just smack a white ball with a stick and then run around?”
Dave perked up. “You’re confusing it with golf. Baseball isn’t just smacking a ball—it’s much more than that. It’s skill, it’s discipline, but it’s also planning and strategy. It’s watching your opponent’s move and then deciding how best to react. Baseball is symmetry and grace and beauty and power, all woven into a single fabric. Simply put, Doctor, it’s a perfect game.”
While her question appeared to be idle chat, he realized afterward that it was meant to probe his emotion, to gage intensity.
“Okay, I believe you. Do you still coach?”
“Coach? No, I gave it up after the accident,” Dave said.
“Why?”
He paused. She let the silence drag.
“I couldn’t go back. It brought back too many memories.”
“But aren’t they good memories?”
“Sure, but . . .”
“I hope you see, David, that it’s okay to remember. It won’t always cause pain. In time, you’ll create new memories, good memories that will blend with the old. Your life will continue. You’ll still have hopes, dreams, passions. In short, you still have a full life to live.”
The idea felt so distant, so unreachable. Instead of accepting her words, pretending to agree, and moving forward, Dave raised a topic of his own. “Before we go on, I’d like to talk about my jacket.”
“The one from Megan?”
“Yeah. I told you how I found it, but I didn’t tell you the whole story.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“I didn’t tell you that I wore it to work—that I hadn’t shaved or showered. I’d been drinking. I was a mess.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“I got the account—I got BikeHouse because of the Harley jacket. Do you see any significance in that?”
“I wouldn’t try to read too much into it. Life is full of coincidence—it just has a way of helping us out sometimes.”
“Nothing more than chance? You don’t see it as a sign or something?”
“A sign?”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
“David, it’s normal to want to believe that life is ruled by fate. But be careful about giving away control. If you turn your life over to destiny, then it takes responsibility away from your actions. We’d all like answers as to why awful things happen in life, but the answers are not always there. Sometimes life is awful—just because. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so.”
“You’re grieving over the loss of your wife and family. That’s the reason we’re talking. But understand that life will keep right on going around you. Be careful about stepping off. Be careful about chasing dreams that are only wispy puffs of hope not based in reality. Be careful about giving up. If getting this account is indeed a sign, as you imply, then it’s to tell you to move on with your life. Let go of the pain and move forward. You deserve happiness.”
His eyes narrowed; his head flinched slightly back. When he finally spoke, his words caught her by surprise. “You mention hopes, passions, and dreams. But how far should I go in search of answers?”
“Answers to what, David?”
“To questions like, where do I find the hope you talk about? Where do I find the will to get up each morning and live my life? Where do I find out if there’s more to life than just sitting here asking you questions? No offense.”
“I want to understand you completely, David. Can you expound a bit further?”
His intensity was turning into frustration. “I’ll narrow it down. Where do I look to make my life meaningful again?”
It was her turn to pause, to ponder. She picked her words carefully. “Many places—I think that you have to look in many places, David. You mentioned that keeping busy at work has helped. Isn’t your job meaningful, for one?”
“At times, sure, but if that’s the only reason I can find to get up each morning, then smother me with a pillow now. Don’t get me wrong, my job can be challenging, but there has to be more to life than Strategy Data. Look, here’s what I’m getting at—just a couple of months ago, I’d have answered that my family was the place to look, but now I don’t have a family. So with no family, with no wife, and no children—where do I look for meaning?”
“We’ve already discussed the fact that nobody can replace what you’ve lost. But, David, whether you want to hear it yet or not, you will most certainly love again.”
She waited for his reaction.
“I don’t think you answered my question,” he said, “so let me ask it this way. At our first meeting, you told me about losing your fiancé, Jonathan.”
“Yes.”
“You may have mentioned it, but how long ago did he pass?”
“Nine years.”
“And have you found someone else in those nine years?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions?”
“Please, I’d like to know.”
“No, not yet,” she said. “But I’m certain that with time, I will.”
“Certain? How do you know?”
“Know? I guess I don’t know. I simply hope.”
“That’s exactly my question, Doctor—that’s what I want to know. How far do I go to find hope?”