thirty-five
Dash
In a way, I’d spent the last six weeks planning to see her again. In another way, I was playing it completely by ear.
I’d tried implementing new routines in Arizona. This thing, that thing, then the other. The shame of going back to her with my tail between my legs was too much to bear. If I did that, I’d have to tell her everything. I’d have to have the guts to change my life around.
Every grounder I missed, every time I was caught looking, the walls closed in.
I flew back a month into spring training for an exhibition game.
The game didn’t matter. I was a complete cockup. I was letting everyone down. I couldn’t even pass a ball to Youder for the double play. He was ten feet from me. If I fucked up the season before his free agency, he was going to be offered a bag of shit. That was on me. I didn’t want him to go, but I didn’t want to fuck him over either.
I had to do this better. I had to get control.
I dug out the stairs on the slope. Turned out the roots of the avocado tree had been holding the mountain up, and now the ground was going where water and gravity told it to go. So I could shore up the hill, which I did, but I had to unearth the steps. Otherwise, the only way to get down was to slide and slide.
I stayed back half a day and drove to her school. I watched the library windows for a sign of her. Stayed in my car and waited for her to walk to her crack-pipe car. The rear passenger tire needed air. I took the pump out of my trunk and filled it. I noticed it was as bald as a turnip and hustled back into my car like a criminal. I wondered if I could change it completely before she got out.
I missed my opportunity. She left with that guy. The one from the Petersen. He touched her shoulder when he said good-bye, and I wanted to rip out his arm. I opened the door to do just that, getting a foot on the pavement. She got in the car and was far away from him before I even stood straight.
This was me.
This was the core of me. Slow. Misdirected. Impulsive. Unaligned with the rhythms everyone else walked to.
I hadn’t fucked Janice at the Mesa Westin, and without that, the rest of the preseason rituals were forgotten or rendered meaningless. The last time I’d felt right was when I was with Vivian.
I had to go back. All the way back, before I’d built anything. I was running out of time. I had to accept that I was obsessed with her, ask for forgiveness, and rebuild around her. Without her, I’d not only be worthless all season, I’d be plain worthless.
When I saw her in the doorway, I knew I’d done the right thing. Anxiety molted off me. I left it on the sidewalk like an old skin.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I didn’t touch her. Barely spoke to her. The room was populated with Dodger fans, and they were all very nice. I talked about the previous season and the upcoming one. Showed one of the kids how to throw. Caught her glance whenever I could.
Her father opened his signed ball after dinner.
I signed hundreds of balls a year, and I had no idea what they meant to anyone. I didn’t know if they went in the trash or on solid gold pedestals. But I did know what happened to that ball.
He turned it over in his hands a few times, looking at all the signatures. I couldn’t see his face.
“All twenty-five from last season,” Vivian said, wringing her hands.
“You give me such naches,” he said. “I’m kvelling.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but a collective aww went up in the room when he put the heel of his hand to his eye, rubbing away a tear. Vivian hugged him, and he clasped her as if she was about to run away.
I sat with my drink in my fingers and knew why she didn’t want an expiration date. She couldn’t just take her pleasure and go on with her life. She had a bare minimum expression of love, and it was the love her father had for her. She wouldn’t take anything less.
And why should she? She deserved the best a man had to offer.
An hour later, I got a taste of it. I went to the kitchen to drop my plate in the sink, and her dad was there, pouring himself a glass of water.
“I didn’t get a chance to wish you a happy birthday,” I said. “My timing was terrible.”
“Thank you.” He popped open a clear plastic pill box and emptied it into his palm. I started back into the living room, where I had been having a great conversation with his brother on pitch counts and foul balls, when he stopped me. “She’s not a plaything.”
“I realize that.”
He looked as though he didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him.
“I don’t want to be that dad who gets in his daughter’s business where he’s not wanted…” He tossed the pills back and took a big gulp of water. “But don’t be a fucking putz anymore.”
“I won’t. I don’t know what a putz is, but I’m sure I can stop being it.”
“It’s a man who takes women for granted is what.”
“I won’t. Not Vivian ever again.”
“Good. Now stop making eyes at her and ask her if she needs anything.” He winked.
That was a relief because I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with Vivian if her father wasn’t on board.