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I let a couple of minutes pass before I speak again. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Mom, but I don’t need to get the best grades. I’m giving a solid enough effort that I’m going to keep my scholarship. It’s more important that I’m performing my best on the field so I can keep up my value for the draft.”
“Maverick.” She sighs. “I want you to get there. I know how hard you’ve worked. But your view of your future is so limited.”
“What?” I’m striving toward a goal many would say is unattainable. If anything,herview of my future is limited. “What does that mean?”
“It’s just baseball with you. Getting drafted. Getting to the majors. Signing the big contract. Even if all of that works out perfectly, you’ll have half a life left to live after you retire, and you never talk about what you’re going to do with it! You never even talk about having a family.”
“Afamily? I’m twenty-one.”
Mom sniffs. Is she about to cry?Why?I’m not sure I even know what we’re talking about anymore. “You’re such a handsome kid. How have you never dated anyone?”
“I dated in high school,” I say. “Haley.”
“For a little while. And nobody since.”
Is my mother insinuating that I need to get laid?I stare at her, trying to wrap my mind around this conversation. “It’s not like I’m trying to be a monk or something,” I say slowly. “I’m just more focused on—”
“Baseball,” she interrupts, fixing me with a pointed look. “Yes, I know.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I wish she’d go back to talking about my grades. Before I can tell her so, she adds, “It’s just hard for me to believe there’s been nobody in all that time.”
My hand falls back into my lap, and my shoulders slump. It’s not that there’s beennobody. There was one girl.Isone girl. It’s true that I won’t have casual sex because it’s not worth the risk of derailing my future, but that’s not the whole story. I can appreciate an attractive girl as much as the next guy, but if I’m being completely honest with myself, I always compare them to Azalea.
And they all come up short.
I meant what I told her the other day. I didn’t even know I meant it until I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but as they settled over us, I felt the truth deep in my bones.
If she asked, I’d give it all up. No question.
Feeling Mom’s eyes on me, I turn toward her. The meaningful look on her face makes me feel like she’s reading my thoughts as I have them.
“Please,” she says, and shit—sheistearing up. “Please don’t make me worry about how you’ll get along after I’m gone.”
“Mom,” I say, too sharply. “Don’t talk like that.”
She shakes her head. In that moment, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone look so frail. “Just do this for me, Mav. Tell me you understand that there is life outside of baseball. That’s all I want to hear right now.”
“Okay, I get it. I understand,” I say, because at this point, I’d say and do anything to make her feel better.
It’s a lie, though.
Between my family that is falling apart and my best friend who doesn’t return my feelings, I’m not sure thereisa life for me after baseball.
Ifakemycomposurefor the rest of the evening. I help my dad make his homemade pasta while Mom and Lilly watch TV in the living room, and then we all sit down to eat. The conversation flows easily and doesn’t steer anywhere uncomfortable. It all feels normal—almost. Even though she seems to be in a good mood now, I can hardly look at my mom without my insides twisting into knots.
After the kitchen has been cleaned up, we decide to play a game of Monopoly. This is Mom’s domain—nine times out of ten, she hands us our asses and has a grand time doing it. She is her normal ruthless self for the first hour or so, gloating as we hand over our rent, refusing every trade that comes her way because she knows she can win without negotiations. As the game wears on, though, she becomes more subdued, and I know she’s getting tired. Dad has been knocked out and the rest of us are still in when Mom yawns and says, “I’m going to fall asleep right here at the table pretty soon.”
I glance at the clock. It’s only 8:30. I meet my dad’s eyes, and he looks back at me, lips in a straight line. I know we’re thinking the same thing. Mom hasneverwanted to end a game of Monopoly before her victory is sealed, even if the rest of us beg her to let us forfeit.
Dad answers for all of us. “Let’s just call it a game. Put the rest of us out of our misery.”
Mom smiles, kisses Lilly and I, and heads up to bed. Dad trails behind her. I help Lilly clean up, then sit with her in the living room for a few minutes before I decide that I can’t stand this anymore.
I charge up the stairs, my feet coming down harder than is probably necessary. At the landing, I round the corner and come face-to-face with my father.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. “Your mom’s trying to sleep.”
“I’m trying to figure out what’s happening here,” I hiss. “She looks a lot sicker than when I was last here, and this afternoon she kept talking about dying.”
