i found a zit on my ass today, can you pop it next time i see you please? i can't get the angle right.

            What the hell ever happened to hello?

            you don't love me if you don't say yes.

            Obviously yes but that was the most unromantic text I've ever received in my life.

            gotta keep you on your toes.

            I would love if you didn't, but then you wouldn't be you.

            "You're always laughing at your phone."

            Rory quickly pocketed it and looked to where the voice had come from, even if he'd heard the voice all his life. "Hey, mom."

            "Hi, sweetie."

            Mandy Mack was every bit the team mom as much as she was Rory's actual mother. She wore his jersey every time she came out to a game. Never once had she shown up in his dad's number, even for his debut, she'd had a rush order made. Baked banana bread for the clubhouse whenever she could, and ensured there was enough for every single person on the staff. She truly believed in paying them back for giving Rory a chance, even when that chance was written for him the moment he was born.

            His mom gave him a hug. "You played great. I'm so proud of you."

            "I struck out twice."

            "God, who gives a shit?" She said. Mandy rubbed between his shoulders. "You went one for three. That's a good average."

            "Thanks, mom."

            "Don't be so hard on yourself," she said. "It's a game."

            When Rory was growing up, there was a clear point when he was a teenager that he was going to be taller than his mom. It happened in one singular summer, came with a lot of growing pains, but none hurt more than realizing that there would be a point where he couldn't collapse into his mother's arms when he needed her because he took up more space than she did. The realization itself destroyed him and she proved that it didn't matter how tall he got, he was always her boy. The collapsing happened more often than he wanted to admit, but she was there. And that mattered.

            "I still want those two at-bats back."

            "You're going to retire one day," she said, stepping away from him, "and the last thing on your mind's gonna be two random strikeouts during a random game in May, when it didn't even matter."

            "It does matter," Rory said. "Every game counts."

            "Rory," she said. "It's not the World Series, is it? It's May. There's plenty of season. You're going to hit home runs, and you're going to be in hitting slumps. You might even get the yips."

            Rory's eyes widened. "Jesus, mom, don't say that. Do you want me to retire early?"

            "Relax," she said. "You'll be fine. Give yourself a break."

            It was hard to take the breather, even if he thought he deserved it, which he didn't, when the next thing out of his mouth was, "Did he watch?"

            "Your dad's getting the car."

            "Oh, good."

            "Be nice."

            "I'll be nice if he's nice."

            Mandy sighed. "How can I make this easier for you?"

            Rory stopped himself from saying the word divorce but he did consider it for probably too long. "I'll be fine."

            "Are you sure?"

            Rory threw on a tight-lipped smile. "Always am."

            "Come on." She patted him on the back a couple times and he walked beside her. "He was actually really excited to come today."

            "Did he make sure to shine his plaque on the second level while he visited?"

            "That's not very nice," Mandy said. She covered her mouth with her hand. "But it's kind of funny. Don't say that to him."

            "I don't have a death wish."

            "Hey."

            "Did I say that out loud?"

            Mandy rolled her eyes teasingly. She tilted her head in a small motion to be followed, like Rory didn't have longer strides than her; or like he didn't know his way around Yankee Stadium. He was pretty sure that he knew at least six different exits from the venue, depending on where he wanted to end up after a game.

            Maybe he walked a little slower than her the closer they got to the lot. It wasn't his fault. It was—

            "There's your dad."

            Rory wasn't sure that the smile he threw on was as convincing as he wanted it to be, but it was the best he was going to get. "You know I drove myself here, right?"

            "We'll take you out for dinner, then bring you back here. Or, you could stay over. We could drive you back in the morning."

            "I could meet you—Hi." Fuck that window rolling down. Sitting in the backseat was going to be worse. Rory gave a small salute toward the car.

            "He's coming with us?" Wonderful. Great. Cool, cool, cool, cool.

            "Rory."

            "What?"

            "Not you Rory, him Rory." Mandy looked at the car. "Of course he's coming with us."

            "I assumed you drove here, Junior."

            "I did, sir."

            "Is your car okay?"

            "Car's fine."

            "I just wanted everyone to spend some time together," said his mom. "Sorry if I wasn't clear on that."

            "Okay, well, get in, Amanda. We're holding up traffic," Senior said. "You too, Junior."

            Rory didn't like the way his mom winced every time she was called Amanda. Like she was a kid in trouble. Rory's grandparents on her side were in San Diego and he didn't see them that often, but they were the only other people he heard call her by her full name regularly. The other one was his dad. Every time he saw her introduce herself to someone, she said Mandy and looked infinitely happier.

            "You can have the front, sweetie," she said.

            Rory made a face. "I can sit in the back."

            Senior honked the car horn. "Hello? Come on."

            "Your legs are longer," Mandy said. "Go."

            "Can you pay for my dinner if I go?"

            "I was going to do that anyway."

            Another car honk. Especially noticeable when nobody was honking behind him, despite his protests of traffic hold up. That's what happened when Senior got access to the non-public parking.

            "Please go before he drives away."

            Rory bit his tongue instead of asking her if that was an option.

*

Spending his entire life in New York was one of too many reasons that Rory Mack, senior or junior be damned, got a table almost immediately in any restaurant they went to. His dad usually picked a too-nice one when Rory would have been fine with two beef crunchwraps, nacho fries, and a baja blast at the nearest Taco Bell. Why he always had to frequent places that were going to charge him sixty dollars a plate for two bites of food was beyond him. There had been an argument many years ago that Rory's body was a temple and he needed to treat it as such if he ever wanted to make it to the majors. After his debut, he'd celebrated with three Dave's singles and chili cheese fries at a Wendy's nearby.

            "... and the seared scallop, please." Mandy closed her menu and the rest of the table looked at Rory expectantly.

            His dad swirled wine around in his glass. "Son?"

            "Um." It was no secret to the city of New York and it's sports fans that Rory made very good money doing the job that he did. But the idea of costing his mother that much money for a dinner that he didn't even really want was criminal. "Bluefin tuna. Please?"

            "And what was the other course that you wanted, sir?"

            It wasn't that Rory couldn't eat anyone out of house and home at any given moment; it was that none of the shit on the menu was remotely what he wanted to eat after playing a ball game. He skimmed the list and gave his menu back to the waiter. "The, uh, tortellini. I guess. Thank you. And could I get a wine glass, please? When you have a moment."

            "I'll just need to check a piece of ID if that's okay."

            "That's..." Rory dug through his pocket and handed them over to the waiter.

            Mandy hid her laugh into a sip of wine. Senior looked less than amused.

            "I'm sorry, sir, your license is expired, I can't accept this. Do you have another piece of identification on you?"

            As if his day hadn't been bad enough. Going to the DMV before his game was not on his list of things to do, but all he needed was to get pulled over and fined. Fuck. All he wanted was enough wine to get through the dinner and sleep without thinking about how poorly the meal had gone. Was that too much to ask?

            Rory took the license back. Expired on his birthday back in January. Yikes, he needed to check things better. "I—uh—"

            There was a small pat on his elbow and Rory turned to see a kid standing beside him.

            "Hey, buddy, uh, what's up?"

            "My mommy says to say sorry for bothering you," the kid said, they held out a pen and a trading card to him. "Are you Rory Mack?"

            "Junior," Senior said. Like that helped.

            "Junior," the kid corrected. "Could you sign my trading card, please?"

            "Of course," Rory said. He took the card and looked at the back, his birthday was on there. "Um. Sorry. If this is me, can I use this as ID?"

            "Pardon?" The waiter made a face and Rory couldn't necessarily blame them.

            "This—" Rory held the trading card up beside his face. "Is me. It's got my birthday on it. Thoughts?"

            "I don't think—"

            "Just, my license has all the same information, it's just a few months out of date, I get it." He held the card out to them. "But this has it. No expiry."

            "I'll have to ask."

            "Your manager and I are good friends," Senior said. "I'm sure this once we can make an exception. Tell him Mack's here and he'll understand."

            "Oh, I didn't realize you were that Mack, I'm so sorry." They looked at Rory. "I'll go get your orders in and get you that wine glass, Mr. Mack."

            Rory should've left it. But it was self-preservation at that point to keep himself in the chair. He signed the trading card quickly, and it only took another few seconds for the waiter to come back with a wine glass in their hand. Rory thanked them and probably poured too much before drinking it quickly.

            "Don't you have a game tomorrow?" Senior asked him.

            Rory nodded.

            "There a reason why you're drinking the night before a game?"

            "Wanted to try the good stuff," Rory said perhaps a bit too sarcastically. He cleared his throat when his mother shot him a look. "Did you enjoy the game today?"

            "Rick pitched well," Senior said. "He deserved better than a no-decision."

            "Yeah."

            "You didn't really do much to help him, there, Junior."

            "Nobody hit well today."

            "You batted three hundred," Mandy said. "That's nothing to be upset about."

            "With nobody on," Senior said. "And Lee fucked up that easy play in the field."

            "Everyone makes mistakes," Mandy said.

            "Not when it's drilled into your damn head that you always throw it to second with a runner on one," Senior said. "Never try to get the guy at third. Takes away the double play. And it cost them two runs."

            Unfortunately, Rory knew that his dad was right. Spencer had made an ill-advised throw. But the play at third had been bang-bang. If he'd gotten the guy, he would've been the hero of the night. It wasn't easy being criticized when he could've been praised.

            "Guy's still batting third and can't hit," Senior said, "then he goes and ignores the fundamentals. I mean, shit, what's Monty even thinking?"

            "Why don't you ask him?"

            Mandy sighed. "He did."

            "You what?"

            Senior took a sip from his wine. "I texted him during the game. Asked him what the fuck he was doing."

            "Why would you do that?"

            "Because he's out of his mind if he thinks that running a ball club the way he is is going to win you guys a World Series."

            "You—" Rory wanted to throw a fit. He wanted to yell and scream and flip the table of the too-fancy restaurant and storm out with the bottle of expensive wine in his hand. "This is my job. You're my dad."

            "And you're never going to reach your full potential when that fuckin' half wit is batting you fifth and playing his cards the way he is." Senior took a long sip of his wine. "Honestly, Junior, you could be a little more grateful. I'm trying to support you. A thank you would be nice."

            "That's not support, that's—that's harassment." Rory looked at Mandy. "You let him do that?"

            "Oh, please," Senior scoffed. "What's she going to do? Take my phone away?"

            Mandy wouldn't meet either of their eyes.

            "Mom..." The only critique that Rory ever had of his mother was that she towed the line a little too well. Never wanted to choose a side fully and only did it based on the situation. Which meant most of the time, Rory didn't get her support either. Even when he really needed it.

            She shrugged him off but at least Mandy had it in her to look guilty that the entire thing had unfolded the way it had. "I tried to tell him you'd be upset."

            "You probably didn't help my case today, Junior." Senior shook his head. "Two strikeouts isn't going to get you the third spot back."

            "I'm working on it."

            "How quickly?" Senior asked. "It's already May. All Star voting starts next month. What are you waiting for?"

            "How about we get through one dinner without talking about baseball?" Mandy suggested. She refilled her glass of wine; Rory hadn't even seen her finish it so she had to have downed it sometime during his protests when his attention was on Senior. Some part of him wanted to be impressed, the other one was annoyed she was drinking the wine he might've needed to get through the night.

            "Junior already tried to use a trading card as legal identification and you think now is the time to not talk about baseball, Amanda?"

            "I just mean..." Mandy sighed. "It's all you two ever talk about. Even in the offseason. Don't you get tired of it?"

            "Fine." Senior put his glass down on the table and looked at Rory. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "How long have you been driving with an expired license?"

            "I didn't realize it was expired," Rory said. "I'll go to the DMV tomorrow."

            "On game day?"

            Mandy cleared her throat loudly. Senior held a finger up in her direction, like he was chiding a child.

            "What do you want me to do?" Rory asked.

            "Maybe pay better attention to everything around you, Junior, honestly."

            "Rory."

            "What?" Rory didn't like that they both turned to look at his mom while they asked their question. The same short tone because they'd had enough of each other and yet were far more similar than either of them wanted to be. It was bad enough that he had to see his dad every time he looked in a mirror, or heard his own name, but the fact he got Rory Mack Sr's irritability while provoked was a cherry on a shit cake.

            "Sorry," Rory said. His dad never did.

            "He could've been arrested for driving without a license," Senior said. "You don't think that's a big deal? What if he'd been pulled over? What if he'd been recognized? Now he's making the entire organization look bad because he's shitty at planning."

            Rory could think of one singular thing that he did regularly that would've been worse to be recognized about than an expired license.

            "He's already said he's going to fix it, Rory," Mandy said. "It's not like he can go and do it right now."

            "Maybe if he got off his fucking ass this wouldn't be an issue," Senior said. "Don't IDs expire on your birthday? Been a long time since February."

            Rory's eyes widened. Not for the first time that night, Mandy looked disappointed in the direction that the conversation had gone; it was the most annoyed she looked though. Her lips pursed tightly before they let another drink slide through.

            Sometimes, Rory couldn't blame her for not speaking up. He hadn't had to go back home with them for years. Since he'd had the privilege of being in the minors with a decent paycheck. Mandy, since she was around the age Rory moved out for good, had lived with his dad. Their lives at eighteen were very different from each other. Rory Mack Sr had already won two rings with the Yankees before she was even allowed to legally date him. (Imagine Rory's face when he found that one out. Ten years age difference didn't sound horrible until she was only eighteen. Two years later, they had him.) If he was all she'd ever known, how was she meant to know that she could have done better? Most often, it was self-preservation to stay quiet on her part. Even if he knew that, it still hurt that she was more willing to dangle from the edge beside him than help pull him up.

            There was something to say that his favourite movie with his first crush, Michael Emerson and his stupid curly hair, had a scene where he hung from the bottom of a bridge just because someone asked him to. Unaware of how they were going to escape dying together. That's what it felt like to grow up in the shadow of Rory Mack Sr; the train rattled above while Rory hung on for dear life and hoped he didn't fall into the fog below.

            "January," Rory said into a long, draining drink.

            "Whatever." Senior waved his hand in Rory's direction. "We left the hospital with you in February. Same difference."

            Rory shook his head. Mandy gave him the smallest look to ask him to drop it. He wasn't sure how many more forget about its he had left in him.