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Yeah, not much had changed.
He grabbed an empty box from the corner of the room and handed it to me. “This should help.”
As I moved toward the stairs, I could see he’d already begun packing up other areas of the house to prepare it for the sale, and that made this an easier pill to swallow. It might’ve been worse if nothing was out of place, left like a snapshot in time.
When I walked into my room, I was transported back to my teenage years, though it was strange looking at it through my adult eyes. The bedspread was the same, the curtains too, and all the furniture was in its usual place but somehow seemed smaller.
I started by loading the dusty baseball trophies from the top of my dresser into the box, then tried to fit my fingers into my very first glove, obviously unsuccessfully. Man, I had been so excited that birthday and couldn’t wait to use it. My stepfather had begrudgingly walked outside with me to throw me some half-hearted grounders, but it ended up being my mom I practiced with most in the backyard. No surprise there.
Next, I took down the posters, then moved to my mostly empty dresser drawers, where I found a wooden box of trading cards. I’d been obsessed with collecting them back then, and I definitely wanted them to come with me on my travels now.
One of the cards was sticking out of the pile, more worn around the edges than the others. When I pulled it out, my cheeks grew hot as I remembered how I would sleep with that one under my pillow at night. I liked the pose the Yankees pitcher was in, right above all his impressive stats. I liked it a lot. And now I wondered if he’d been my first guy crush all along. Damn.
When I heard a creak from the hallway, I looked up to find Dad leaning against the doorjamb.
He motioned toward the box on the bed. “I got you that glove when you were six years old.”
“Yep,” I murmured, tossing in the box of trading cards alongside the trophies.
“Your mom loved sitting in the stands and watching you play,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “But it was never really my thing.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
At least he admitted it. I wanted to ask him if he remembered that I was allergic to bees or if he thought Mom would be proud of me, but that thin veneer of connection I’d felt to him through Mom, was all but gone. Besides, he’d never told me he loved me or that he wanted to adopt me, things I positively ached for as a kid. And now that he knew I liked guys, it would be a convenient excuse for him to shut me out for good.
“I tried my best,” he said, with a bit of condescension in his tone.
“Well, thanks for keeping your promise to Mom and raising me. You are officially absolved of your responsibilities.” I reached for the box and pushed past him to go out the door. “You’re about to have new ones anyway. So good luck on your marriage and being a dad again.”
“Mason.” I could hear the guilt as he followed me downstairs.
I paused on the last step. “This time, maybe try to be more involved in your stepdaughter’s life? She’ll need that.”
As soon as I walked out the door, I could finally fucking breathe.
The tears began as soon as I backed out of the driveway. I was sobbing by the time I neared the freeway entrance, but I kept driving like a man on a mission.
A mission to get the hell out of this town.
Fuck, why was this so hard?
“Mom, I just want you to know that I won’t be back here. It’s too painful. But you’ll always be with me.” I probably looked like some lunatic babbling to myself with tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t fucking care. “And now it’s time for me to figure out what to do with my life. I’ll be graduating soon.”
Graduation. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Dad wouldn’t have shown anyway, but no doubt Mom would’ve. She might’ve even stood and clapped and shouted my name like she did at all my games. Fuck, I missed her.
My chest ached. I wanted to be that kid again. Happy. Not so goddamned afraid. And graduation would be a good start. Maybe I’d even apply for a job out west. San Diego or something. At least they had better weather.
26
Girard
I adjusted my shin guards and squatted down to take some practice throws behind the plate. It was the final game of the season and there was a heaviness in the air alongside plenty of excitement. For the senior players, this was it. Sure, we’d move to postseason and hopefully win some brackets in the regionals, and maybe some of these guys would be invited to try out with a major or minor league team, but for most of us, this was the end of the road for baseball. The cool thing was, if we pulled off this game, we’d have the best record in Easton U Pirates’ history, and that would be amazingly kick-ass.
