Chapter Five

Nathan came over to talk to Ella and apologize for yelling at her the other day. Nathan stood on Ella's porch, and Ella answered the door as soon as she heard the doorbell ring. Once Ella opened the door, she saw Nathan standing on her front porch, wearing his oversized black NYPD Police Academy sweatshirt, oversized black Adidas sweatpants, and a black baseball cap.

"Hey," Nathan said in a soft voice.

"Hey," Ella said in a soft voice.

Nathan took a deep breath and said, "Ella, I'm sorry. I should not have raised my voice at you like that the other day."

Ella sighed. "Nathan, I hope you understand that Victor is not trying to replace you as Milo's father. You know that, right?" Ella said.

"Yeah," Nathan answered. He sighed.

"Okay. Well, Milo was wondering if you'd like to teach him more about baseball. I would be more than glad for you to continue teaching him. He has another game on Saturday," said Ella.

"Yeah, sure," Nathan replied.

Nathan smiled at Ella.

"Okay. Um, hey, Milo, your dad is here!" Ella shouted from upstairs.

"Coming!" Milo shouted from his bedroom upstairs before running down the flight of stairs in excitement. "Hey, Daddy!" Milo said.

"Hey, buddy. I'm gonna take you back to the park and teach you more about baseball before your next game on Saturday. Is that okay with you?" Nathan said.

"Yes! I'm gonna go get my glove!" Milo shouted before running back upstairs to his bedroom. Once Milo went upstairs, Ella looked at Nathan in awkward silence before Nathan was able to speak.

"I'm really glad you're spending more time with Milo. He has missed you so much," Ella said.

"Yeah," Nathan replied. He smiled at Ella.

Eventually, Milo came running down the stairs again and said, "Ready!" Nathan smiled at his son before saying, "Okay, let's go."

"Hey, um, Victor is wondering if he could come?" Ella asked.

"Oh, uh—"

Victor came walking into the living room before noticing Ella standing at the door and said, "Hey, is Nathan here?"

Victor stood next to Ella. "Oh, hey, Nate."

Nathan sighed and softly said, "Hey."

Nathan hated the fact that Victor was now a part of Milo and Ella's life—he didn't want Victor to become a father figure to his son, Milo. But Nathan felt like Victor was now taking over his own family—he hated that he had cancer and probably would not live long enough to see Milo's sixth birthday.

"So?" Ella said.

"Yeah, yeah. He can come," said Nathan, rolling his eyes.

"Great," Ella replied. She smiled at Victor after glancing at him. She then nodded and said, "Victor?"

"Thanks for inviting me, Nate," Victor said.

Nathan said, "I didn't."

Victor nodded and looked at Ella, saying, "Well, Ella. Nathan, Milo, and I are leaving now."

"Okay, honey. I love you," Ella said. She smiled at Victor before they kissed. Nathan rolled his eyes again and said, "Ugh."

"Victor? You're coming too?" Milo asked excitedly.

"Yeah, buddy," Victor answered. Nathan heard Victor call his son "buddy." That was his line, not Victor's.

"Bye, Mommy! Come on, Victor, let's go!"

Milo grabbed Victor by the hand, and he and Victor headed toward Nathan's car. "Bye, honey!" Ella shouted. "Be good!" Ella shouted once again. Ella walked back into the house before she turned.

When Nathan apologized to Ella after thinking that Victor was trying to replace him as a father, he figured that Ella was trying to make him jealous. But was she really trying to make him feel bad? Nathan headed to his car, and Victor and Milo were waiting for Nathan to come to the car.

In the car, Nathan was driving Victor and Milo around downtown, and they were headed to Manhattan's baseball field at the park. Victor was sitting in the passenger seat, and Milo was sitting in his car seat. He was Nathan's ride-along, and Nathan didn't say a single word since they'd left Ella's house—which also used to be his house. Nathan lives in an apartment on his own as a single dad and an ex-husband—he's also a dying single father.

Nathan, Victor, and Milo were at a red light. After Nathan pressed his foot on the brake, Victor looked at Nathan before he could say anything.

"So? What's it like being a cop?" Victor asked.

Nathan took a deep breath and turned to look at Victor before letting out a deep sigh. He looked back at the red light. "Uh, it's something I always wanted to be when I was a boy." Nathan nodded.

"Ah. So, is it hard? Like chasing the bad guys and having to investigate cases?" Victor asked.

"Yeah. Every single day, except on weekends, I deal with people committing crimes like fraud. Basically, people who steal money. Sometimes property," Nathan said.

Victor nodded. Nathan pressed on the gas pedal after the red light turned green. "So, Ella tells me that you've been working as a detective in the grand larceny unit since she was pregnant with Milo?" Victor asked.

"Look, I came out of the Academy at twenty-one and got assigned to a brutal precinct in the Bronx. While most rookies were just trying to survive the shift and clear their paperwork, I started noticing patterns. If we took a report of a stolen credit card, I didn't just file it and move on. I stayed after my tour, pulled the security footage from the bodegas where the card was swiped, and mapped out the crew's exact route. Six months in, I caught the break that changed everything.

A local pharmacy got hit for a few boxes of expensive specialty medication. A thousand bucks, barely a felony. But I ran the fraudulent prescription name through our database and realized the same fake doctor's license was being used across four different boroughs. I spent my days off sitting in an unmarked car outside a medical clinic, tracking the runners. I ended up taking down an organized identity theft and medical fraud ring that had cleared four million dollars. It was a massive collar for a patrol cop like me.

Anyway, the Chief of Detectives noticed and threw me into a tours-in-program—a temporary assignment to a precinct detective squad to see if I would drown. Well, apparently I didn't drown. I learned how to write airtight search warrants and track digital money trails faster than veterans who were still using legal pads. By twenty-three, they granted me an exceptional merit to Detective Third Grade and assigned me straight to the Grand Larceny Unit. The guys in the squad all looked at me like I was a teenager who stole their dad's suit. I became the youngest detective in the squad room. Not because I was a genius or anything like that, but because I understood how twenty-first-century criminals use keyboards instead of crowbars and was willing to work forty hours a week to prove I belonged there," Nathan said.

"Hm. Impressive. So, why did you quit baseball? You decided it wasn't your thing anymore?" Victor wondered.

"Well, I felt like becoming a cop was my true calling and not just being a baseball player. I just wanted to do something different. Playing baseball was more of a hobby than anything else. I quit playing baseball after I went into the police academy shortly after I graduated from college. I played baseball in high school and college. Ella didn't even like the fact that I wanted to become a cop after I graduated from college. So I went into the police academy, worked as a patrol officer from ages twenty-one to twenty-two, and was assigned to my first grand larceny case at twenty-three. I am, like, the youngest detective in the NYPD," Nathan said.

"Ah. You must be proud of yourself. Milo told me that he wants to be a cop and a baseball player like you. Heck, I've been kind of teaching him how to shoot a BB gun. He loves it. But I saw the old trophies in Milo's bedroom. High school all-state selection, scouting report from a Division I program," Victor chuckled. "You had a real arm, Nate. Milo's already throwing the ball the exact same way you do. So, again, why did you really quit baseball? Why walk away from the full ride just to grind it on the pavement for thirty grand a year as a rookie cop?

Nathan didn't say another word after what Victor had just explained to him. Eventually, he did say something.

"Because a game doesn't explain anything, Victor. When you're standing on the mound, the only thing that matters is the next pitch. It's a bubble. My junior year of college, a guy in my neighborhood lost his entire savings—everything he'd built for his family—to a contractor who used a fake LLC and wiped out the bank and stripped the equity right out of his house. The guy went to a local precinct, and this one cop said he watched his family get destroyed because nobody in a blue shirt knew how to read a fraudulent contract," Nathan said.

Victor nodded his head. "So, Ella says she was pregnant with Milo at the time of all this."

Nathan sighed and said, "You think you know the story because Ella gave you the edited version, Vic," Nathan's voice drooped in a lethal manner. "But let me tell you how it actually happened. I didn't miss my son's birth because I was trying to be a hero. I was a twenty-one-year-old kid with a pregnant wife. She was terrified that I wouldn't be able to pay for the roof over our heads. The Academy pays a trainee salary of barely over forty thousand dollars. We had zero savings. Every single second I wasn't in formation, I was practically picking up side jobs working security at a construction site in Queens until two in the morning, just so we could afford the crib and diapers.

When her water broke, I was on a subway coming back from a double shift. I didn't sprint through the hospital doors trying to clear security because I was careless—I ran through those doors because my phone had been dead for two hours and I realized what was happening. I walked into the delivery room about five minutes later after Milo was born. He was still slick, crying and sitting right there in the arms of Ella's OB-GYN. The doctor handed him to me, and I was the first person in our family to hold my son.

I looked down at his tiny, breathing body and then looked at Ella. She looked absolutely exhausted because she had just given birth. I had never been so in love with someone so much before. Milo changed my life in so many ways. But then we got a divorce two years later because Ella was pregnant again with our second baby, and when she miscarried, I blamed her for it. I was a jerk. I don't blame her for hating me."

Nathan looked in the rearview mirror and watched Milo play with his baseball glove. He smiled before facing the road again. Victor nodded. "Well, I hope it's okay with you—I want to be a part of Milo's life."

Nathan nodded without saying a word this time. In fact, that crushed him hard. He thinks that Milo will start calling Victor his dad. When really, he's the one who has been a dad to Milo since he was born.

After Nathan, Victor, and Milo arrived at the baseball field downtown in Manhattan, Nathan and Milo were on the field, standing on the mound. Nathan was feeling sick to his stomach that morning and had just gone through another round of chemo.

Victor was watching Nathan teach Milo how to pitch a ball from the dugout. Nathan was teaching Milo the drop, step, turn, and burn. Milo was already being taught by his coach, but Milo wanted to be a better player than anyone else on his team, so he decided to have his father Nathan, a former JV baseball player and pitcher, teach him more about baseball before his next game because he wanted to be better than his teammates.

As a former JV pitcher, Nathan understood that for a five-year-old, the term "mechanics" should be associated with games rather than lectures. Therefore, a nauseous Nathan began by demonstrating to his son that he was meant to stand on a ten-inch hill. He knelt down and assisted Milo in positioning his pivot foot (the right foot, since Milo is right-handed) flush against the white rubber. The top of the mound serves as the flat surface.

"The white board is your anchor, bud. Do you feel the clay beneath your cleats? It's firmer here so you can push off like a rocket," Nathan said.

Before initiating the windup, they needed to acquire the ball. A five-year-old's hands are too small, so Nathan refrained from teaching Milo a complicated slider. He encouraged Milo to place his fingers across the C of the laces.

"Milo, embrace the ball with your fingers. Cross the stitches to secure your grip. We can refer to this as the 'four-seam' because it offers the best hold."

Now it was time to demonstrate the leg lift to Milo.

This is the most recognizable stance for a pitcher while playing baseball on the field. Thus, Nathan stood in front of Milo, mimicking the motion. Milo wobbled on the sloped dirt, attempting to find his center of gravity.

"Alright, Milo. Take a deep breath. Lift your knee like a flamingo. Don't rush it. If you maintain your balance here, the ball will go where you intend it to," Nathan said.

At this point, Nathan illustrated the downhill motion on the mound. He showed Milo how to extend his gloved hand toward the target while pulling his throwing hand back. The stride down the six-foot slope.

"Now, lean toward me. Create a large T with your arms. Reach back as if you're trying to touch the fence behind you." Nathan watched his son throw the ball, noting where Milo's arm ended.

Milo's momentum carried him down the slope of the mound. "Don't stop after you release the ball, Milo. Swing your arm across your body as if you're fastening a seatbelt. Reach for my glove," Nathan instructed.

The ball thudded into Nathan's glove. He gazed at his son, catching a glimpse of his own junior varsity days reflected in the boy's tousled hair and dusty knees.

"That's it. That is a pitcher's throw," Nathan said.

"Daddy, I can't do this anymore," Milo said.

"What's wrong?" Nathan asked.

"I want to quit," Milo said.

Nathan sighed and said, "Milo, you're getting so good at it. Don't quit now."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Milo repeated.

"Why?" Nathan asked.

"Because, Daddy! I stink at baseball!" Milo said.

"Oh, buddy, did someone tell you you're not good at playing baseball? Or are you just a quitter?" Nathan asked.

Milo didn't answer this time and shrugged his shoulders. "Just keep playing. It took Daddy a long time, too, to learn to play this sport. But if you really want to commit to something, then it's up to you if you want to stick with it," Nathan said.

"Daddy?" Milo said.

"Yeah?" Nathan responded.

"I'm not a quitter," Milo said.

"Then keep on playing. You'll get better at it. I promise," Nathan said.

Milo nodded without saying a word and sighed. "Okay, let's get back to work, but this time I'll be the pitcher and you be the hitter. Okay?" Nathan said.

Milo walked toward the batter's box, and after stepping into it, Milo grabbed his baseball bat and waited for Nathan to throw the ball. But Nathan couldn't focus on teaching his son how to play baseball anymore. Nathan just stood until he began to feel even worse. He bent over with his hands resting on his knees, standing on the mound in broad daylight. Nathan's stomach tightened, and he vomited; he coughed, emitted a wet burp, gagged, and retched. Nathan was feeling unwell.

Earlier that morning, he was instructing his 5-year-old son, Milo Luke, on how to pitch a baseball properly, but he fell ill.

"Daddy?!" Milo shouted.

Milo rushed over to his father to check on him, inquiring if Nathan was alright and if he had just been sick. Nathan responded, "I'm okay, buddy." He spit on the mound while still leaning over, anxious about the possibility of becoming ill in front of his son once more.

"Victor!" Milo shouted.

Victor came to check on Milo and saw Nathan leaning over on the mound. He witnessed Nathan throwing up this time. He frowned as he rushed over to Nathan to check on him. Nathan sighed and wiped his mouth with his empty hand while holding his baseball glove and the ball in his other hand.

He took his empty hand and placed it back onto his knee. Finally, Victor placed his hand on Nathan's back and said, "Hey. Are you alright?" Nathan shook his head no.

"Daddy?" Milo said, looking concerned for his dad. Nathan looked at Milo.

"Hey, come on, let's go to the dugout so you can sit down," Victor said.

"Come on, Daddy," Milo said, gently grabbing Nathan's hand. After Nathan stood up, wiping his mouth for the second time, they walked over to the dugout of the baseball field.

Water.

"Daddy, you need to get better." Victor watched Milo take a water bottle and hand it to his dad. He just smiled. Milo was proud of himself for taking care of his sick dad. Nathan was proud of his son for how well he was handling the responsibility.

Nathan took small sips of his water after opening the bottle. Nathan slowly swallowed his water, trying not to make himself throw up again.

"You're okay, Daddy. I think your stomach is fighting the bad guys," said Milo.

"Yeah," Nathan answered quietly, smiling at Milo.

Milo smiled at his dad before sliding over and sitting close to him. Nathan kissed his son's forehead, realizing he had just gotten sick and that it was probably not the best idea to kiss Milo after throwing up.

The following week, Nathan and Milo were back at Nathan's apartment sitting in the dining room together and eating dinner. Nathan and Milo were having Chinese food for dinner, and Milo was eating until he put down his fork and said, "Daddy, I am full."

"Then don't eat anymore," Nathan said, chuckling.

Milo leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"So, how's school been going for you? Did you learn anything new this week?" Nathan wondered.

"Mrs. Sebastian said that we have a field day on Monday. Mom had to sign a field trip permission slip. If she didn't sign it, I would not be able to go," Milo said.

"That sounds like fun," Nathan said before taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah. I'm excited," Milo said.

"I'm sure you are!" Nathan answered after swallowing his drink.

Before Nathan took another bite of his orange chicken using his chopsticks, he started coughing. Then his coughing became violent.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Milo asked.

"Yeah, I—" Nathan coughed once more. "I'll be right back," Nathan said before he stood up from his chair and left the dining room as he continued to cough and headed to the bathroom alone.

After entering the bathroom, Nathan shut the door as he continued to cough violently. He gasped for air as he was coughing until he coughed up blood. He saw blood on his hand. He was breathing heavily because he coughed really hard. He wondered if he was going to die from his cancer sooner rather than later. His oncologist told him that the chemo may not respond to his cancer. Nathan's whole world just vanished. He knew that he had to tell Ella that he's dying sooner or later.