I’ll take their laughter at my expense if it means they bond over something.
Decker takes his time. I’ve learned to give him space. He’s stalling because he’s deciding where to start.
“After Dad and Foster left, it was just me and Mom for a while. She had to take on a second job, which left me with a lot of time by myself.” He says it without any bitterness. Like it’s just the geography of his life.
“Didn’t Dad pay her support? He’d always make a big deal about it at the end of the month.” Foster frowns.
Decker’s already shaking his head. “No—with the split, Dad said he’d be responsible for you, and she’d be responsible for me. So, the house payment…”
Foster’s face falls, and his jaw tenses.
“I figured you knew that.” Decker’s forehead is creased.
“No.” Foster’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and he glances out the window.
“I was playing ball in a rec league, but my confidence was kind of shot.” He turns to Foster. “Not because you were so good—well, that’s only partly true. But it was because Dad left me behind like I wasn’t worth his time.”
Foster turns away from the window and looks at Decker, nodding.
“And then?” I try to keep us on track.
Decker shifts on the couch. “Mom said she had this friend. They’d known each other in high school. She’d lost touch with him, but he was back in town. She invited him to a game, and he came with his daughter.” The energy in the room shifts when he says, “his daughter.” Foster’s shoulders stiffen, and Decker appears nervous. “I was eleven or twelve. After another horrible game where I struck out and sat on the bench more than I played a position, he told me he coached baseball and had played when he was younger. Asked me if I wanted his help. Mom’s smile was so big, I said yes, even though I was ready to stop playing.”
Foster’s head whips in Decker’s direction. “You were gonna quit?”
“It seemed like a waste of time. I was clearly behind everyone, and after you left, all the jokes and…”
“Jokes?” I ask, hesitant to go down this path, but willing to try.
“That all the talent went to Foster in the womb. I was left with the garbage genes.”
Foster shakes his head, but Decker won’t see it since he’s looking in the opposite direction.
“That must have been hard,” I say.
Decker shrugs. “It was what it was. But Mark changed all that.”
“So he coached you?”
“Yeah, he’d meet me at the field while his daughter ran track. He’d help me while she practiced, then usually he’d take us to dinner. He’s the reason I got seen. It helped that he was a coach for a small local college. He had some connections and got me on a travel team a year later. It just kind of took off from there and things started connecting. Helped when I hit puberty.”
“That jump is crazy, right?” Foster says. “Still one of my best seasons ever.”
Decker chuckles. “Mine too.”
I smile, watching them interact and share.
“Since I never heard from Dad much, Mark was the male role model in my life.”
“You’re still close with him?”
Decker almost smiles. “He’s the Colts’ manager.”
“Mark Ripley?” My eyebrows raise.
Decker nods and glances at his brother.
I turn to Foster. “How does that make you feel, hearing Decker’s path?”
