Chapter 28 #3
I was aging out of the sport but felt like I had one last year in me.
After this season. Always my excuse.
Slowly, I lift my head and glance at Vee. “Instead of honoring Patty’s request, I threw myself into the game, disappearing within it, and had one of my best pitching years. The Anchors won the pennant that year.”
I swallow thickly, Vee allowing me a minute.
“I’d suggested I quit after she passed. Been given leave to give myself a break.
But my coach knew I was struggling.” I wave a hand around my ear, signaling my head.
“I was messed up and needed something to focus on. The game gave me the outlet I needed. My coach was right, but I’d done wrong by my boys. They needed me and I failed them.”
After the season. I promised myself if the Anchors won, I’d leave the game, and I did. Took a year off and floundered. Baseball kept me grounded. When the offer from the Flash came in, I jumped at the chance to coach and moved my boys to Philadelphia, which was another change for them.
“My son needs the stage like I need a sandy diamond-shaped lot with a grassy outfield. And while some might argue baseball is just a game how would you feel if someone told you never to write again?”
Vee sucks in air. “Like I couldn’t breathe.”
“So, you understand me.”
Vee does get me on a level no one else ever has.
Her heart is huge. She listens and she cares.
And she can make me laugh. She chases away dark thoughts.
Her presence casts a warm glow in my life.
I want to be able to do the same for her.
I want her to know she’s appreciated and adored, listened to and seen.
Vee and I are silent a second before she sighs and sits up straighter.
“There’s no way to measure grief or guilt.
Is it a minute, an hour, or a season of our lives?
Does it define us, or do we define it? Is grief only about death, or is it about time?
Time lost. Time never used.” Vee pauses.
“I think, we allow ourselves the time we need, beat ourselves up if we have to, wallow if we must, but that needs a time limit. My grandmother once said she allowed herself two weeks at the loss of my grandfather. Then she forced herself out of bed, and it was one step at a time. One minute, one hour. A season.”
Vee licks her lips. “We can’t live with regrets, and yet the truth is, we all do.
Regret over what we said or didn’t say. Regret about what we did or didn’t do.
Remorse is part of life, and that’s what’s important to remember.
We need to continue living, and be thankful time is in front of us right now, in this moment, and to make a change, if you wish. ”
I stare at Vee as she continues. “If you want a better relationship with Harley, tell him. Or better yet, show him. He’s adult enough to understand that your job is demanding but maybe he doesn’t understand why you love that job, or need it, or value it.
Not value it more than him, but because it’s something for you, like he has the theater for him.
” She tilts her head. “Which, by the way, why didn’t you tell me he was in a play or that we were going to his play? ”
“I just wanted to surprise you.” While doing something nice for my son.
“Did you bring me to the play because Harley asked for me to be there?” Her eyes cast downward when she asks.
My forehead furrows. “Absolutely not. I didn’t even know he’d want you there. I asked you to go with me, not necessarily for him, if that makes sense.”
“For a minute there, I just thought you’d invited me to attend for him. And this wasn’t a date.”
I stare at her. “This is a date,” I state, maybe a bit too adamantly. Maybe not the most romantic one as it involved my kid’s play, and a discussion about my deceased wife, but still a date. “And I don’t want to argue with you about my son.”
Vee sits up straighter. “We aren’t arguing about Harley.”
“I don’t ever want to fight.” Guilt hits me once more at how often Patty and I fought near her end. Her struggles. My helplessness.
“Fights are going to happen, Ross. It’s inevitable. You’ll leave the toilet seat up or your socks on the floor, and I’m going to lose hair in the shower, clogging the drain, and drape my bra over a chair. Things happen.”
Her scenarios lessen the tension and stir something inside me. The situations she describes imply we have a future to fight in.
I nod at her plate. “You finished?”
She’s only eaten half of her mushroom-quinoa burger which she told me was life-altering, but I’m ready for our night to progress and move away from the sorrows of my past.
Vee nods, crumbling a paper napkin and tossing it onto her plate.
“Then let’s get out of this place.” I reach over the table for her hand as I scoot to the edge of the booth. After dropping a few bills on the table, we step into the brisk spring night, and I inhale.
This city and the woman holding my hand are the air I need right now.
This moment is a season I intend to enjoy.