Chapter 5

Charlie didn't see Don again until he came over to the house Friday night. After dinner, Alan retired to the living room and left his sons to deal with the dishes. Charlie took the opportunity to ask Don about his talk with Amita. The answer was less than comforting.

"You took her to lunch?" Charlie repeated. Although he'd heard the words clearly, he clung to the hope that he'd somehow misunderstood. "You mean, like, like a d…" Charlie couldn't seem to get the word 'date' to come out of his mouth.

Don eyes went wide and he held up his hands. "No! No. Of course not. Look, I couldn't find you. Amita said you had class in an hour, so I decided to wait. I bought her lunch and she let me talk about basketball. Seemed a fair trade," he concluded with a shrug as he reached for the dish soap.

Charlie sorted through several emotions as he absorbed this information: anger, fear, jealousy – until he settled on the one that felt right: exasperation. Don seemed to think Amita had the words "property of Charlie" tattooed on her forehead, but the truth was Don had unintentionally come closer to taking Amita out on a real date than Charlie had ever managed to do.

"She likes you," Don quietly observed. As he rinsed off a dish and passed it to Charlie to dry, Don shot him a sidelong glance.

Charlie was determined not to take the bait. He was not going to ask, he was not going to ask, he – oh, who was he kidding?

Accepting that it was impossible for him to resist, Charlie tried to at least achieve a nonchalant tone. "What, ah, what makes you say that?"

"All during lunch, she kept asking me questions about basketball. But what she was really asking about was you. 'How long has Charlie been playing?', 'What position does he play?', 'What makes Charlie a good point guard?'"

Charlie's brain stalled out slightly as he tried to process this new information. "Right. Okay. And what did you say?"

Charlie looked over at Don and noticed he seemed to be repeatedly scrubbing the same already clean plate rather than meet his eyes.

Charlie groaned, "No! No! Let me guess, I'm now the greatest basketball player who ever lived, right?"

"I might have talked you up a little," Don admitted. At Charlie's outraged expression, Don rushed to assure him, "Relax! Look, I'm telling you, that's not what she cared about anyway. She didn't care how good a player you are. She just wanted to know more about the fascinating life of Dr. Charlie Eppes."

Charlie struggled to suppress a smile and failed miserably.

Deciding it was time to switch to a safer topic, Charlie asked, "Hey, so what really happened with Terry the other night? I know she challenged you to a game of one-on-one, but I'm guessing there's more to the story."

"That woman is cruel," Don sighed.

Relieved to have successfully distracted him, Charlie leaned against the counter and eagerly waited to hear more.

"She bounced," he confessed in a barely audible mumble.

"The ball," Charlie finished for him, trying to grasp his brother's point.

Don glanced toward the entrance to the kitchen and lowered his voice. "No, I mean she bounced. I… I don't know how she does it. It's subtle. I wasn't even sure she was doing it on purpose at first. But when she wants to, she can put an extra bounce into her step as she dribbles. And when her step bounces…"

"She bounces," Charlie finished, finally getting the picture. "And I'm guessing your game suffered as a result?"

Don's anguished groan said it all.

Charlie couldn't resist teasing, "Had a little trouble keeping your eye on the ball?"

Don swept up a dishtowel and tossed it at him. Laughing, Charlie caught it and began using it to dry another plate.

"Oh, what, and I suppose you've never been distracted by Amita," Don challenged.

Charlie shrugged and refused to answer.

"Oh, come on. Not ever?"

Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the doorway. In a low voice he confided, "Amita has an amazing back. Strong yet graceful, you know? I wonder if she gets that from playing tennis…"

"Not the point, Charlie."

"Right, right. Anyway. Sometimes, when she reaches up to write something at the top of a whiteboard, the back of her shirt rides up a little and…"

Charlie barely resisted the urge to yelp in surprise when he suddenly felt a hand land on his shoulder. He'd been so wrapped up in their conversation that he hadn't heard Alan walk into the room. Based on his started expression, Don hadn't either. "So… what you two been talking about so intently, hmm?" Alan asked.

Charlie seemed to find his voice first. "S-s-sports."

Alan raised an eyebrow.

"Basketball."

"Tennis."

"Sports," they repeated in unison.

"Oh," Alan nodded. Picking up the water glass he'd come in for, he turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused and asked, "Don't you ever talk about girls?"

Charlie smiled. "We'll, ah, we'll work on it, Dad."