I raise my brow.
"She's got a tough exterior, but inside she's fragile." Mom answers the question I didn't voice. "She needs stability and healing. And honey, I love you, but your track record with women is a little…" She makes a face but doesn't finish the sentence.
Is my mom calling me out right now?
"Like I said, I need an assistant, she needs a job; that's it."
"You've never been a good liar," Mom says.
"What the fuck?"
"Remember you two won't be the only ones affected if things…" Dad trails off and sighs, resigned.
"I can't with you guys," I say. "Have a nice trip. Say hi to Uncle Frank and everyone."
Mom purses her lips, and I give her a kiss on the cheek. Then I hug Dad and half walk, half hobble to the recliner to wait for Coop to wander back downstairs.
The physical therapist wants me to try harder to bear partial weight but it's difficult. I've been trying every chance I get, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nerve wracking.
By the time I get settled, Mom and Dad are pulling out of the driveway, and I'm left to my own devices and entertainment while Addie and Jade get ready to leave. I'm not sure what Cooper is doing up there with them, but every once in a while his laughter filters down the stairs.
Instead of twiddling my thumbs, I shoot off a text to Kyler, asking how dad life is treating him. I haven't talked to him since he texted about the baby being born a few weeks ago. We used to text almost daily, but I guess life changes, and so do friendships. What's that saying? Every friendship has a season? Guess ours was baseball season, because twenty minutes later, my text remains unread.
He's busy; it's cool. He's most likely changing a diaper or enjoying a rare dinner with his wife. We discussed him retiring this year too, but at thirty-two, we both knew he still had a few years left at second base. I don't know if he said it to make me feel less alone, or if he legitimately considered it, but either way, he negotiated a new contract. With the season done, he's home enjoying some time off with his growing family.
Meanwhile, I'm collecting dust.
I'm a forgotten knick-knack. An old, chipped glass statue hidden behind a shiny new picture. It's not Kyler, it's everything. It's being broken and living with my parents. It's being retired while my friends continue to play a game I once thought I couldn't live without. It's being alone because I have high expectations about love.
Existing, I'm merely existing.
Maybe I have been for years, and it's only now that I'm seeing it.
I didn't see how my lifestyle and my checklist for my future would affect my life beyond baseball.
Play baseball for a Division I school. Check.
Rookie with the Rebellion, like Dad. Check.
Win Rookie of the Year. Check.
Hit a walk-off in the postseason. Check. Check. Check.
Win the Championship Series. Check. Check.
What comes after that?
Nothing.
This.
A family was on the list at one point, but I removed it a long time ago. Surface-level relationships will do that. It's my own fault. I have a checklist. It's only composed of two things, but no woman has ever had both.
A woman who keeps me on my toes, like Abuela did with Abuelo. And a woman who keeps me grounded, like Mom does for Dad.
So I stopped trying and focused on everything else instead.
I realize now it was the wrong move.
