“Give me a minute,” he stated as he swiped the card and handed it back to Maisie before going to get everything.
“He’s… friendly,” India said sarcastically.
“Not known for their customer service, but their food is good.”
“How often do you come here?”
“Oh, I’ve been coming here for years,” Maisie shared. “You know how running helps you get out ofyourhead? Batting cages do it for me.”
“Did you start during college?”
“No, we had our own cages at school. It was after, but not always. I mean, not consistently. I started coming here again after my grams died. I needed something to do to get my mind off of everything, and I drove past here one day. I decided to stop by and hit a few, but I ended up staying for hours until my hands were sore, and my shoulders were worn out. Then, I broke down and cried until the manager walked over to tell me that they were closed. Not one of my prouder moments,” Maisie laughed a little, but it wasn’t a real laugh.
“I’m sorry you lost her, Maise,” India said.
“Me too. She was a great grandma, but it was also more than that. I hadn’t properly grieved my dad’s death, so I think it was a combination cry. He was a great dad. He did the best he could after my mom left. Then, Grams did the best she could with me after he died.”
“Have you heard from your mom since she left? I know what you said before, but–”
“No. I know my dad tried to track her down for a while, and my grams did, too, after his death, to see if that would get her to come back, but it didn’t.”
“God, I could never leave my kid,” India said. “I don’t know how someone could do that.”
“Me neither,” Maisie said. “I’ve always felt like I wouldbe the mom dropping her kid off at college and wanting to spend the night in their dorm room just to make sure they had everything they needed.”
India laughed and said, “I’ve actually had a dream that I had a daughter, and she was in a dorm room. I was searching for a trash can, and she didn’t have one.”
“What? What happened?”
“Nothing. That was the dream. I don’t remember anything else. How messed up am I?”
“Oh, you need therapy. That’s for sure,” Maisie teased.
“Food.”
India turned to see the guy placing a red tray filled with their food on the counter.
“Yes, yes, it is,” she said, shaking her head at him.
Maisie laughed and took the tray, carrying it over to one of the three round tables with bench seats, where she set it down and removed everything from it.
“Mustard? Ketchup?”
“Um… Mustard, I think,” India replied.
“You think?”
“I’ve never had a hot dog.”
Maisie flopped down onto one of the bench seats, and India sat on the one next to it.
“Really? How have youneverhad a hot dog?”
“They weren’t served in my house growing up, and I have avoided them ever since. I’ve had burgers. Does that count?”
“No, it doesn’t count because a burger isn’t a hot dog,” Maisie said, laughing. “But do you eat mustard on burgers?”
“No, I usually just put a tomato on there and some lettuce and eat it like that.”
