Pitbabe S2, Chapter 11 pg2

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 11 pg2

   “It’s okay. I’m sorry too for not saying something sooner.”

   “Sorry for hugging you.”

   “That’s fine too. It’s been a while since anyone hugged me.”

   “Huh?”

   “What’s your name?” I pretended to change the subject, trying hard not to laugh at his confused, lost-puppy expression. “What should I call you?”

   “Pete… Pete,” he stammered, his nervous demeanor clashing with the initial vibe I got from him. I thought he’d be a confident, composed older guy.

   “Are you a racer too?” I pressed on. “I heard you know the racing crowd.”

   “No,” Pete shook his head slowly. “I’m a sponsor for Team X.”

   “Oh, so you’re loaded, huh?”

   “Uh…”

   Rich people are always like this—acting shy when they have to admit they’re wealthy. Some say people born rich don’t realize they have more than others because they think what they have is just normal, something everyone has. Every time I hear that, I want to gag. Unless they’ve been locked in a tower since childhood, never stepping foot outside their castle, I’d never believe they’re naive enough not to know the ground they walk on is made of gold.

   “You sponsor Charlie’s team because of Way?” When he didn’t answer the last question, I fired off another. His flustered, schoolkid-called-on-by-the-teacher vibe was honestly pretty entertaining. At the very least, it was the most fun I could have in a hospital. “Or did you meet Way because you were a sponsor?”

   “The latter,” he answered without hesitation, surprisingly.

   “Here I was thinking there’d be some romantic story like, ‘I threw all my money at him,’ or something.”

   “Way didn’t want my money,” Pete said softly, his eyes dropping to the floor, like he was talking to himself more than to me. “Everything he did was for his team.”

   “So, like, he played you?”

   Look at that. He’s got that sulky face now.

   He’s the kind of person who’s perfect for being teased.

   “I’m not joking, it’s just business, you know.”

   “What kind of business involves matters of the heart?”

   “That’s just me,” the young businessman suddenly blurts out in a firm tone. Maybe I accidentally touched a sore spot. Pete looks at me with a slightly startled expression, as if he didn’t even realize he let his emotions slip to a rude stranger like me. He looks away again, clears his throat softly, and continues, “He didn’t think anything of me.”

   “Oh… unrequited love,” I nod slowly, pretending I just figured it out, though honestly, I knew at first glance. “I get why you’re so upset now.”

   “You get it?”

   “Why?” I tilt my head to look at him. “You think no one in the world could understand how you feel?”

   Pete stares at me silently. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s analyzing me in his head, wondering what this guy’s thinking, what I’m after by talking like this, whether I’m a good person or a bad one. The sadness in his eyes says more than he realizes, and that might be another reason I’m still standing here in this convenience store, talking to a stranger who looks like the unhappiest person in the world.

   “If you think you’re the only one who’s lost something, you’ll feel like the unluckiest person alive, when in reality, there are millions of unlucky people out there. Half of them are probably moping like you, and the other half are trying to find something good in their bad luck. I’m not saying you can’t be sad because others have it worse. I’m just saying that’s how it is. The world’s full of unlucky people, jerks, and morally flawed folks. Whether you like it or not, you can’t change that.”

   Talking about this makes me want to smoke again, but that’d take too long. I should get back to Charlie. I wonder if Babe has woken up yet. I haven’t even had a chance to properly visit the patient, too caught up in my own stuff as usual.

   Maybe I should try thinking about others more, even if it’s a pain.

   “You’re right,” Pete says, offering no argument. He nods in agreement after standing quietly for a moment. “I can’t change anything.”

   “Exactly,” I affirm my own words. “Whether you did right or wrong in the past, whether you think you’re a failure or not, what does it matter? If you’re upset about what you did, force yourself not to do it again. Because maybe tomorrow, you won’t be able to stand your own failures anymore.”

   Pete laughs.

   Wow. He actually laughed.

   “You’re really weird at comforting people.”

   “Comforting?” I frown, surprised that you think that. “I wasn’t comforting you at all.”

   “Hmm… then I must’ve imagined it,” Pete says calmly, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Unless the convenience store’s lights are playing tricks, I think I see a small change in his eyes. “Thanks, though.”

   “For comforting you?”

   “For helping pick the basket,” the businessman replies, reaching up to grab a fruit and milk basket from the top shelf. “Babe’s not hurt too badly. He should be able to eat fruit and milk, right?”

   “Yeah, Charlie would probably like it too.”

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