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Yes, I do.
But...how?
Simple, Eric said, smiling down at Mizuno. It knows me. It’s been around for longer than anyone – victories, defeats. I go where I want, when I want, and it’s always there, exactly where I left it. No drama, no stressing over birthdays and Christmas, anniversaries, disapproving fathers-in-law. Asshole brothers-in-law who don’t like the idea of someone like me boinking their little sister. He paused. And being with someone is hard. Being responsible to someone is hard. It’s tough enough looking after myself most days; this way, I don’t worry about being social at parties where I don’t know anyone, getting out of bed because I promised to go to the farmer’s market. Mizuno likes me for me, no expectations. Fits like it should.
What about...intimate times? Dad said, thinking he had him fooled. They must be tough.
Nah, you taught me well, Eric said. Always took good care of it – oiled, ball strapped in with a band. Primo shape.
What do your friends think?
Haven’t introduced them yet. Family first, like you always say.
Tell you what – I gotta pick something up at the store, why don’t I take Mizuno with me? You know, get reacquainted, Dad said. You catch up with Mom and Annie.
You sure?
Positive, Dad said, snatching Mizuno. Back in a jiffy.
He drove aimlessly for hours, because he didn’t know what to do, where to go, how to return home without it. He didn’t know how to explain it, and he’d keep driving in circles until he figured it out.
An unfamiliar song whispered from the radio, thumbs slipping into the beat like old shoes. Rhythmic, instrumental, an intoxication; when it climaxed and slunk into the dark, he was parked in a strange laneway, night fallen and clementine glow leaking from cracks in the garage. Dad climbed out with