“this mad psycho tells everyone to get into a field and says I’m going to pick one of you just one of youout of all of you to die and everyone’s looking around thinking it’s so unlikely to be me because there’sthousands of us so statistically it’s completely unlikely and the psycho walks up and down looking ateveryone and when he gets near me he hesitates and he smiles and then he points right at me and saysyou’re the one and the shock that it’s me and yet of course it’s me why wouldn’t it be I knew all along”

“Because he tells me. All the fucking time. I’m precious to him and I know it because he shows me and he tells me. It’s beautiful. It’s real. It’s right.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”“What is?”“Treaties and all that. It’s like we woke up one morning and we weren’t supposed to be enemies anymore. It’ll take some getting used to.”“True,” I said. “I think it’s really cool though.”“Unfortunately, not everyone agrees.”I thought of my grandfather and what he would do if he could see me now. “I know. But it’s worth protecting.”“Yes,” he said, and something about the way he was looking at me made me think he was talking specifically about me. “It is.”

“Being on that pitcher’s mound, it’s the one thing I’m really good at. The one thing I haven’t fucked up. And when I’m on the field, everything else fades away. You know?” He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding. I smiled and he continued. “It’s like my mind is clear when I’m out there. It’s not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I’ve done. It’s about me, the ball, and the batter. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I’m in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me.”I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. “I feel that way when I’m taking pictures. Anything that I’m not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What’s in it. What isn’t. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen.”He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “You get it.”

“It’s the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It’s the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me that I normally try to hide from any man for as long as possible… and he loves me anyway.”

“So say I’m your mom.''What?' I said.'I’m your mom,' he repeated. 'Now tell me you want to quit modeling.'I could feel myself blushing. 'I can’t do that,' I said.'Why not?' he asked. 'Is it so hard to believe? You think I’m not a good role-player?''No,' I said. 'It’s just–''Because I am. Everyone wanted me to be their mother in group.'I just looked at him. 'I just… It’s weird.''No, it’s hard. But not impossible. Just try it.'A week earlier, I hadn’t even known what color his eyes were. Now, we were family. At least temporarily.”