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“I do. He’s good for you,” Desmond said flatly. “You two… you make sense.”
With that, Desmond left. I couldn’t tell if that last comment was a dig at me or Carter or both of us, but I decided that I didn’t care. Carter and I made sense. He made this condo feel like home and I wanted him to be a part of it.
He was ready. If he couldn’t see it himself, I’d have to help him.
Twenty-Seven
Carter
I didn’t think Rex would be good at baseball, but I didn’t think he would bethisbad. His reflexes and batting form were almost comical. It reminded me of Elias swinging the bat so hard he did a full three-sixty spin as he missed. All Rex needed was those thick sports goggle glasses and he could be the spitting image of my twin brother at that age.
“Okay, this time choke up on the bat a little,” I told him.
“Choke up? What does that mean?”
“Um… put your hands a little higher. Grip tighter.”
“Okay. What does that do?”
I took a deep breath and tried to remain patient. I forgot that smart kids tend to ask a lot of questions.
“I think it helps you to concentrate on your grip and find the best angle for your swing,” I explained. “And, while we’re here, square your stance and put your weight into your back leg. You’ll need to do that so you can put some power behind your swing.”
“That makes sense,” he said with a nod.
“Good. Let’s try again.”
I lobbed the ball towards him as slowly and gently as possible. There was no way he should have missed, but he did.
“That’s okay. We’ll try again,” I told him.
Rex’s enthusiasm never faltered as he scooped up the ball and threw it back to me.
“We’ll try until I get one, right?” Rex asked, hopefully.
I tried to focus on Rex’s determination as opposed to my frustration. This was going to take all day.
“We sure can.”
I threw the ball, Rex swung and missed. I threw five more. He missed five more times. My frustration mounted, but his enthusiasm never wavered. I threw five more. Five more strikes. My arm was starting to get tired.
“Hey, Rex, how about we work on something else now,” I offered. “Maybe something a little easier.”
“But I really want to hit one.”
“But…”
“Please, Carter. I just want one more try.”
Memories of my own father throwing a ball to me and Elias ran through my mind. He was so patient with us, even as I showboated after hitting the ball and Elias missed every pitch. He stood in this very park, the baseball in his hand, playing with us just like this.
Overhead, the clouds shifted.
“Wow, the sun is finally coming out,” Rex said.
I gripped the ball tighter, new energy running through me.
“Okay,” I told him. “One more.”
