The Fan Read Online Free PDF Page B

situation.” Bobby looked over the skinny guy’s shoulder; Wald had come in, speaking on a portable phone. The DCR talked faster. “Anyway, the idea is these kids get to make a kind of last wish, and the folks in the program try to make it come true. Within reason. The thing is this kid wants to see you.”
    Wald was laughing into his portable phone. “What kid?” Bobby said.
    The DCR checked his notebook. “Looks like John something. Can’t read my own writing.”
    Bobby started to walk away. “Sure,” he said. “Maybe. Sometime.”
    The DCR followed him. “Don’t mean to be a pest, Bobby, but the problem is, if you’re going to do it, it’s going to have to be soon. Very soon. Like tonight.”
    “Tonight?”
    “The nurse or whoever it was said he might not be strong enough later.”
    Wald clicked off his phone, stuck it in his monogrammed shirt pocket. “All set?” he said.
    “I don’t know,” Bobby answered.
    “You don’t know?”
    “It’s about this kid,” the DCR said and explained it all over again.
    Bobby and the DCR waited for Wald’s reaction. “It’s up to you, Bobby,” he said.
    “Up to me?”
    “If you want to do it or not.”
    Bobby turned to the DCR. “What is it, exactly?”
    “Just a hospital visit. It’s about fifteen minutes away. I can run you over right now, if you want.”
    Did Bobby want to do it? No. But he found himself saying, “All right.” He knew why, too: because he’d been seeing the ball so well, made such a good beginning, didn’t want to screw it up. Made no sense, but that was the reason.
    “Fantastic,” said the DCR, and Bobby realized he’d just earned the DCR some points with his boss, whoever that was.
    Wald checked his watch. “This’ll work okay, actually. I’ve got a meeting, the bank, make a few calls—we’ll still have time to play nine.” He turned to the DCR. “You know the Three Pines C.C.? Drop him there by three.”
    “Got my clubs?” Bobby said.
    “I’m your man,” said Wald. He hurried out.
    The DCR rubbed his hands. “Fantastic,” he said again.
    “Should we take some balls?” Bobby asked. “For the kid?”
    The DCR thought about it. “Maybe a bat would be nicer, for something like this.”
    “One of my bats?”
    “Oh, I’m sure any bat’ll be fine.”
    But why not one of his own? He had an unlimited free supply. Bobby went to his stall, glanced at the bats, selected one he knew his hands wouldn’t like, just by the pattern of the grain on the handle. “We’ll give him this,” Bobby said.
    “That’s awfully nice of you, Bobby.”
    The DCR drove Bobby to the hospital. “Great to have you here, Bobby,” he said on the way. “It’s my first year with the organization too.”
    “Where were you before?”
    “Wharton.”
    Bobby hadn’t played a day in the minors. He couldn’t place it.
    A nurse met them at the front door. “So nice of you to come, Mr. Rayburn,” she said, offering her hand and holding onto Bobby’s for an extra moment. Not a fox like the girl from last night, but not bad looking at all.
    The nurse led Bobby and the DCR, who carried the bat, into an elevator. They rode up a few floors, people getting in and out, shooting glances at Bobby from the sides of their eyes; then walked down a brightly lit, airless corridor and into a room. The DCR gave the bat to Bobby.
    A heavy woman sat in a chair, fingering the crucifix that hung around her neck. She got to her feet. “Oh, thank God you’ve come,” she said, “thank you, thank you.” She seized Bobby’s free hand in both of hers; for a second he thought she was about to kiss it.
    The woman drew Bobby to the bed. “Look, baby,” she said, almost cooing, “look who’s come to see you.”
    The boy in the bed opened his eyes. He seemed small, but not necessarily young. His head was bald, his face hollow and lemon-colored. The boy’s eyes, feverish and muddy, fastened on Bobby. He spoke, but too softly for Bobby to hear.
    “Pardon?”