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Once I’m fully dressed, I step out of his room and practically walk into him. He’s leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry about that, I knocked, but there was no answer, so I assumed you were downstairs. I just need to get my stuff for training.”
Only now do I notice that he’s in full baseball gear, from cap to cleats. It’s hot as hell.
Wait…
“It’s Monday, don’t you have school?” I know I do, but I’ve been excused. We’re seniors anyway, so it’s not a big deal, but I hope he’s not missing out for me.
“I have permission.” He rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s senior year, we graduate in two weeks, who cares right?”
“I guess,” I shrug.
“I actually have a specialist pitching coach from UNC meeting me at the field, were going over some things to prepare me for the season. It’s not normal they come out to individual players like this.”
“That’s awesome, Jake.” I smile proudly at him.
“Yeah…” He takes off his cap and runs his hand up and down the back of his head, and then puts it back on. Nervous habit, I’ve noticed. “It’s just that I might not be here when the funeral director comes…”
“Oh.” Oh.
He must sense my panic because he grabs both my hands and bends to look in my eyes.
“I can cancel, Kayla. It’s not a big deal, I’ll just call-"
“I’ll be fine, Jake,” I smile, hoping it comes out genuine, “just go, you have to, you being a big deal and all.” I try to laugh.
“Shut up and quit being cute.” He says, before flipping his cap backwards, hugging me tight and kissing my temple.
He makes his way into his room and gets his gear bag out of the closet, double checks everything is there, then we walk downstairs hand in hand.
I say goodbye to him at the door. He re-assures me that he’s going to try to get back to me as soon as possible.
***
A couple hours later the funeral director is sitting opposite me in the family room. He’s bought a bunch of brochures with him and they’re sprawled all over the coffee table. I space out through most of it, but I know that I have some decisions to make.
“Will the gathering afterwards be held at our establishment or elsewhere?” The funeral guy asks, his name is Wes, or Des, Les maybe? I’m not sure.
“It will be held here,” Mandy says.
I whip my head to face her, she just smiles and nods, leaving me speechless.
“Okay,” Wes/Des/Les confirms. “Have you got a budget in mind?” he asks me.
Me.
I shake my head.
He huffs out a breath, like I’m a useless nutjob.
“Have you got numbers on how many guests?”
Guests? Like it’s a fucking party.
I shake my head again, staring past him.
He sighs, a loud, audible, fucking sigh.
“Let’s have a look at the caskets then, shall we?” he says it like he’s running out of patience. “We’ll start with what we call the junior range, for the child…”
He hands me a brochure and I tense. I cannot breath. The blood has drained from my entire body and my sight is blurry from the tears in my eyes.
In the distance, I hear a door open and close.
“Excuse me,” Mandy announces, as she steps out of the room.
I’m still staring into space when I see Jake's face in my vision. He’s crouching in front of me, cap on backwards, hands on my face trying to get my attention. I focus on him, on his face, on his concerned look.
“Hey…” he whispers.
“Hi,” I return.
“Would you please give us a minute?” Aunt Lisa asks Wes/Des/Les a.k.a Dickface.
“No problem, I’ll just be outside.” He closes the family room door behind him.
“Are you okay, honey?” Lisa asks.
I nod my head, never taking my eyes off Jake.
“Honey, if you don’t mind, why don’t you let Mandy and I take care of this part?”
“That’s a great idea,” Mandy agrees. “Why don’t you let Jake take you out of the house for a bit?”
I nod again, and a second later Jake is leading me out the door. He purposefully, and aggressively, bumps shoulders with Dickface as we pass him.
The family room door closes behind him and Jake leads me out the front door, but not before I hear Mandy screech, “How dare you!”
Jake places me into the passengers seat of his truck and puts my seatbelt on like I’m a child. We’ve only said those two words to each other since he’s come back.
“Wait here, okay? I’m just gonna run in quickly and change.” He’s still in his baseball gear.
He comes out a minute later wearing dark jeans, light grey henley with the sleeves pushed up and the same cap on his head.
“Feel like hitting some shit?” he asks, getting settled in the drivers seat.
“You know a way to a girls heart.” I mock swoon and bat my eyelashes at him.
He reverses out of the driveway, changes gears, then holds my hand the rest of the way.
We end up at the batting cages.
Of course we do.
***
Jake’s standing at the pitching machine adjusting some dials while I stand in the cage, bat in hand.
He comes over to me and adjust my body to how I should be holding the bat, and tells me when the right time to swing is. I take in everything he says.
