“Theresa! Those urine samples aren’t going to test themselves. Get going,” said the charge nurse, scowling at Duke with a classic old-lady glare. Theresa gave him a sorrowful shrug and scurried off.

“Wait—” he said. Why would Mr. Freaky Freak feel rejected? As Duke walked out, he thought about how the doc acted around Angel, always touching her. There’s no way she’s interested in that old guy. Right?

He decided to drive down Jerome Avenue, see if he could catch Angel at her apartment. When he got to the salon, however, it was closed. There was a note: Gone to the baseball game!

It was cold. Damn cold. Ass-cheek-frozen cold.

Angel was sure she was losing weight watching these preseason games, due to nonstop shivering even with a coat. I should have changed out of my scrubs. There was sun shining on the field at the elementary school, but the wintery breeze blowing through the Bronx streets turned the metal benches into ice makers.

“Mama!” Jose waved as he ran past her with his team. When he’d spotted her, his face had lit up. It warmed her heart to see him so happy simply because she was there. I did one thing right today.

“You go, baby!” Gabriela yelled, shouting excitedly into Angel’s ear. She’d closed down her business to be with Angel on the sidelines of Jose’s game, even though it was just an intermural game so Angel wasn’t about to say a word about her exuberance. She didn’t have the energy to do much but breathe, anyway.

Angel tried to rally, to put everything but Jose out of her mind. But it was so hard. As Jose’s team took their turn at bat, she could barely focus. When they switched to the field before Jose could bat, she was relieved, not sure she had the energy to worry about him getting struck out.

Her brain continued to be sluggish. Toward the end of the second inning, her mind played tricks, making her think she saw Duke strolling along the baseline fence, cheering on the kids. The vision seemed so real when the imaginary ballplayer then purposefully strode toward their small set of stands behind Jose’s dugout.

“Angel?”

She stared at the apparition as it excused its way through benches tight with incredulous, gaping parents. It even sounded like Duke. When it got up close and waved a hand in front of her face and said, “Can’t you hear me?” she jumped.

“Duke?” she whispered. Is that Duke? I’m not crazy? Louder, she said, “What are you doing here?”

“What she means,” said Gabriela, leaning across Angel’s lap, “is what in the hell are you doing here?” Then she batted her eyelashes coyly and said, “But you know I love ya, right?” However, after Angel stared fixedly at her friend, the hairdresser added, “Ah, I mean, I don’t love you. You’re an asshole.”