The Last Inning

Marcus lay on the couch, the glow of the television casting blue shadows across his living room. The cable had been out for hours, but he kept clicking the remote anyway. Some habits don't die, they just migrate.

His phone buzzed. Sarah.

"You coming?"

"Yeah," he typed. "Just finishing up."

He wasn't finishing anything. He'd been staring at the black screen since sundown, watching his reflection age in the glass. Somewhere beyond the window, the sky burned orange—another California evening committing itself to memory.

The cat, a stray he'd named Cooper after the baseball legend, jumped onto his chest. Purring like a small engine, demanding to be fed. Marcus had taken Cooper in three years ago, after Jenna left. The cat had shown up at his door the same night she'd packed her bags, as if the universe had decided he needed company that didn't require explanations.

He arrived at the bar to find Sarah alone in their usual booth. She'd been his friend since college, his person through two marriages and countless mistakes. Tonight she wore orange—the color of warning signs, construction zones, things demanding attention.

"You look like hell," she said, not unkindly.

"The cable's out."

"So?"

"So I've been watching old baseball games on YouTube instead of living my life."

Sarah laughed, but her eyes stayed serious. "Jenna's getting married."

Marcus felt it like a line drive to the chest. "To who?"

"Some lawyer. They met at a baseball game." She shook her head. "The universe has a sick sense of humor, Marc."

He ordered whiskey, straight. The bar TV was playing highlights from some game he'd watched with Jenna, years ago. They'd sat right here, in this booth, sharing fries and arguing about statistics while the cat waited at home.

"I should be happy for her," Marcus said. "I should want her to be happy."

"You do. That's why it hurts."

He thought about Cooper at home, alone again. About the cable still out, about all the nights he'd spent watching other people live instead of living himself.

"Take a walk with me," Sarah said.

Outside, the orange sky had faded to gray. They walked past electronics stores, past windows displaying cable packages and streaming services, past a television showing baseball highlights in an endless loop.

"You know what's funny?" Marcus said finally. "I keep waiting for my life to start. Like I'm in the seventh inning stretch and the real game hasn't begun yet. But I think—" He stopped. "I think this is it. This is the game."

Sarah squeezed his arm. "Then play."

They kept walking as the city lights came up, no destination, no final out. Just the game unfolding, inning after inning, until eventually you have to step up to the plate.