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What was he doing differently now than he was the previous season? His arm strength hadn’t faltered. If anything he had more bulk, more raw power. He should be doing better not worse. He ought to be hitting more home runs, and instead he sucked so bad he’d been shuffled down to the little leagues.
Adjusting his stance, he tried everything he could think of. He choked up higher on the bat. Lower. He put more weight on his front foot then shifted it to the back instead. He angled his body towards the plate and when that didn’t work, he angled it away. He went through every stupid, wacko stance he’d seen other batters use in the hopes something might click, but nothing did.
The balls refused to gain the appropriate height, and though they sounded beautiful when the initial contact was made, nothing went high enough.
“Yer hittin’ it wrong.”
Alex jumped and pivoted. The old guard was standing outside the cage, his thumbs jammed through his belt loops. He was chewing on something, but Alex suspected it wasn’t bubblegum.
Once he’d caught his breath, Alex muttered, “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem.”
The guard grunted. “I seen a lotta guys come through here. Lotsa swings, y’know? You ain’t bad. Just ain’t hittin’ it right.”
“I’m open to suggestions.” Alex rubbed his nose and prepared for the next swing.
“Fer starters, yer swing is fine, stop playing around with it. It ain’t the bat that’s the problem. It’s you.”
Alex swung through with his usual arc. He made contact, but the ball drove down yet again. “Well, your profound wisdom is obviously helping me a lot. Thanks, old man.”
The guy snorted and seemed to consider spitting something on the floor but thought better of it. “Yer not listening, kid. Problem ain’t here.” He tapped his arm. “It’s here.” Then tapped his forehead. “Yer timing is all off. Either you swing too early or too late. Like yer thinking about something and you forget to move the bat.”
“And what do you propose I do to fix it?” He swung again, with the same flawed result.
“Gotta clear your mind. Get all that garbage out.”
“If you say be the ball I swear to God…”
“Nah, boy. Don’t be the ball. Just grow a pair.”
Chapter Twenty
After three days in the children’s wing of the hospital, the doctors declared Olivia in suitable condition to go home. Kevin, still recovering in the adult ward, would be required to stick around a few days longer. Alice didn’t want to be grateful to Matt for covering Kevin’s hospital bill—she didn’t want to thank him for anything—but as the days added up and the tests and treatments were piled on, she was happy she didn’t have to worry about paying for everything.
Matt didn’t stick around long. He stayed true to his promise and held out until Liv woke up the second time, and remained through a full day, but by the time her second day in the hospital dawned and they moved her into the children’s area, he announced he had to get back to New York.
Mets were playing the Phillies. God forbid he miss it.
In true Matt fashion, he left
with a flourish. He went out and got a brand new iPad, loaded it up with games and kid-friendly movies and presented it to Olivia with his apologies.
Poor kid. How was she supposed to treat him like a villain when he kept twisting her little brain up in knots and convincing her he wasn’t such a bad guy? Alice saw the gesture for what it was—a buyoff—but let Olivia brag to all the nurses who came in about the gift her dad had bought her.
“How nice,” the ladies would coo. “He must love you very much.”
Alice kept her mouth shut, at the risk of breaking her jaw from gritting her teeth so hard.
If that was love, she didn’t want to know.
Liv was still playing on the iPad when Alice pulled the Acura into their driveway and killed the engine. It took some maneuvering to get Liv and her bags into the house, especially since the kid wouldn’t put down the gadget or look up from it for more than a couple of seconds.
Inside, the house was dismal and silent. It felt strange not to have Kevin around, even if it was just to snipe at him about his messes. Alice still had no idea how she was going to deal with what he’d done. In the hazy gaps between drug-induced sleep and his painful lucidity he had apologized to her dozens of times. He’d cried and begged for her forgiveness.
And she’d told him everything would be fine. She said she forgave him. Anything to chase those tears back because she didn’t want to be one more thing hurting him right then.
The truth was, forgiveness wasn’t such an easy commodity for her to distribute. He’d done something terrible, and Olivia’s life might have ended in one flash of stupidity.
Alice’s life would have ended too had anything happened to Liv. But at the same time, she would have never recovered if Kevin had been gravely injured either.
