Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
CANE
“This was such a nice surprise. Especially on a cold December day when I really didn’t want to leave this house,” my mom says, sitting across from me at the breakfast nook.
I think this nook has always been one of her favorite parts of our house.
“Coming to see your old mom today.” She smiles.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to hang out, just the two of us. ”
“I know it,” I say because she isn’t kidding—it has been a while.
Usually, Cash and I try to meet with her together, or I see her with the rest of my family at our monthly dinners.
But after spending the past eight days moping around, almost showing up at The Nest way too many times, I decided that I should talk to one of the strongest women I know, who also seems always to have the answer for everything.
My mom.
She studies me for a moment, and her eyes narrow slightly because, just like always, she knows that something isn’t quite right.
“What’s going on with you lately?” she asks, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. “Everything good?”
“It’s, uh …” I nervously bob my head around, thinking about how the fuck even to answer.
I’m not the guy who talks about my feelings.
I sweep things under the rug, seeing how much it can hold before trying to fit more.
“I don’t know,” I finally murmur. “I’m fighting with Cash,” I admit, knowing she’s going to be upset because that’s one rule she has—we can’t stay mad at each other.
“Why is that?” she asks, eyeing me over. “What happened?”
I lean back slightly against the booth, letting out a long sigh. “He thinks I feel guilty about … what happened to Dad.” I look down at the table. “And he thinks I’m trying to fix everybody else’s issues to numb the guilt.”
I don’t look up at her. I can’t right now. But even in my mind, I know what expression she has on her face without looking at her.
“And why do you think he believes that?” she says softly, with absolutely no judgment in her voice.
“Because … it’s true,” I utter. “And I don’t know how not to be this way, and I’ll never get to be with Harland because she knows that I’m fucked up.”
My vision blurs with tears, and my throat burns. I know there’s no way to hold back my emotion.
“Nothing is ever going to bring him back. There’s no way that I can go back and just …
catch a ride home with a friend from that practice.
” My deep voice squeaks at the end. “I can’t change the fact that he’s dead because I had practice and asked him to pick me up that day.
” I wipe my eyes. “Because on Tuesday nights, he’d take me to get ice cream after practice, and that morning, I made sure to remind him that he had to be the one to get me.
” I swallow, trying to fight the lump in my throat, but it’s useless.
“And on his way … he was killed in the car accident.”
Finally, I dare to look up at my mom.
“I don’t know how to stop wanting to help everyone, Mom,” I rasp. “Because it’s the only thing that ever makes me feel better for what I did.” My lip trembles. “Even if the pain always comes back.”
“Baby,” she whispers, reaching across the table and taking my large hands into her tiny ones, “what happened that day was not your fault.” Her eyes fill with tears before they slowly trickle down her cheeks.
“I know you aren’t going to believe me, but, Cane, I need you to at least hear me when I say that you are not to blame for your dad’s accident.
The woman ran the red light because she was on her phone.
She’s to blame, but accidents happen, and I’m sure she’ll have to carry the guilt of that day with her each moment of her life.
” She squeezes my hand. “So, guess what. I don’t even blame her for that day because one mistake shouldn’t have to shape her entire life. ”
She dips her head forward, looking into my eyes.
“Not long after your dad passed away, you started to act up a lot in school, and deep down, I knew it was connected to losing your dad. You may not remember it now, but I had you see a therapist. I thought you could use someone to talk to.” She sighs.
“But after only a few sessions, you fought going. I think the pain was so fresh, and”—she cringes—“to be honest, I was in a really dark place, so I didn’t fight you to go back. ”
She smiles sadly at me across the table.
“I think you should go now though. I think the only way you’ll ever be able to have a healthy relationship—whether that be with teammates, family, friends, or romantically—is if you get everything inside sorted out.
” She tilts her head to the side. “Because, my love, things like taking the blame for vandalizing a dugout? That may be brave, but it’s not healthy. ”
My eyes widen. “You-you know about that?”
Her hands squeeze mine. “Baby, I’m your mom. I know everything.”
Suddenly releasing my hands, she slides from her side of the nook and comes around to my side of the table. Kneeling down, she wraps her arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry that for so much of your life, you’ve carried the burden of taking care of everyone else.
” She kisses my cheek. “After your dad died, when it was just the four of us, I relied on you more than I should have to help with Cash and Avy. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.
” A tiny sob slips from my mom. “You’ve always been such a caretaker, Cane.
And I love that about you because you are, hands down, the most selfless person I know.
” She pulls back, looking me in the eyes sadly.
“But I think it’s time to talk to someone, okay? ”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but eventually, I nod.
“And I promise that if it’s meant to be with you and Harley, it will be. Just give it some time, all right?”
The thought of how much time I’ll lose with her while I try to fix myself hurts like fucking hell. Because what if I can’t be healed? What if this is just the way that I am?
“All right,” I murmur, even though I’m not sure I believe her.
She hugs me once more, this time even tighter.
“You’re going to be okay, Cane. I promise,” she whispers, holding on to me a while longer.
When she finally releases my neck and pushes herself to stand, I know what she’s going to say because when my dad died, there was always one thing that she’d do to try to make us kids feel better. Even if it was only temporarily.
“Pizza and ice cream?” she whispers, her lips turning up the slightest, though her makeup is smudged from tears.
“Yes, ma’am,” I agree, nodding. “Pizza and ice cream.”
I know I’m going to let my mom make me an appointment to talk to a therapist even though I don’t fully trust that it’ll help. But if it means that I can get Harland to give me a chance and my brother won’t be worried about me anymore … I’ll do anything.
HARLEY
I walk out of the field house, and the first breath I take turns to a puff of smoke in front of me, proving how cold it is outside today. New England Decembers can be tolerable, or they can be miserable. And this winter has been the latter so far.
Haven walks beside me, and when the wheels of my catcher’s bag get caught in the snow, I yank on it harder.
“Damn it,” I grumble. “Why can’t this bag have four-wheel peel like your car does?”
“Because it didn’t grow up in Maine like my sweet baby did,” she tosses back just as we get to her Jeep.
We throw our crap in the back before racing to get inside. Rubbing her hands together, she presses the button to start the engine.
“Don’t even say it,” she deadpans, already annoyed even though I haven’t even said the words I always do when it’s cold and we bring her car. “I already know I should have started it while we were inside, jerk.”
“Well, okay then,” I mumble, fighting a grin because there’s something about Haven when she’s feisty that’s my favorite.
The girl has more personality than I know what to do with, but it suits her. And truthfully, it’s what drew me to her, I think.
She doesn’t pull out of the parking spot right away, but instead, we sit there, and I wonder what in the world she’s doing. Finally though, she turns her body slightly toward mine.
“What do you need from me?” she blurts out, her eyes almost seeming surprised by her words.
“Like, for you to feel better at practice. To get back to you.” She tilts her head to the side, resting it on the seat.
“I know you’re still hurting, and I can’t even imagine how hard everything has been for you.
But I miss you, Harls.” She sighs, looking down. “I miss playing ball with you.”
My body’s first response is to jerk my head back by pure shock, followed by a chuckle. “Um, hello … we just did play ball together.” I frown. “I may have taken a week off, but aside from that, I’ve been here.”
“It’s not the same,” she whispers. “Your game is different. You don’t even seem like you want to play anymore. You used to be early every day and the last one to leave—and it wasn’t just because of your gear either.”
I’m trying my best to keep calm, but deep down, I’m thinking, How dare she say this to me?
She knows I’m doing my best. I know Haven though, and this is coming from concern and nothing else. I just have to keep reminding myself of that before I respond.
“I’m fine, Haven,” I mutter, looking toward the windshield.
“You don’t understand. And I’m glad that you don’t have to understand, but cut me some slack.
I’m doing the best that I can.” I shake my head bitterly.
“Every day, I show up to practice, and I work my ass off even though I want to just stay in bed.”
“I know I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through,” she says, and from the corner of my eye, I know she’s looking at me. “It’s just hurting me to see you throw away so much hard work to now play mediocre.”
She takes a long pause, but still, I keep my gaze straight ahead.
“I’ve played with some really great players, Harley.
I’ve seen some pretty awesome catchers too.
Ones that were the top in their league, even their state.
But you have this …” She stops, and when I hear the emotion in her voice, I look at her again.
“You have this sparkle when you play. It sets you apart from any other player I’ve ever taken the field with because you aren’t just on the field to do a job.
You’re out there because it’s what you were born to do. ”
She sniffles, the corner of her mouth lifting into a tiny, sad smile.
“Just don’t get so consumed in the sadness that you throw all of that away, okay?
You can grieve. You should grieve. But you’re allowed to feel other things, too, besides your grief.
Don’t get so caught up in how you think you’re supposed to feel that you no longer allow yourself joy.
Because I met your dad quite a few times, and if there was one thing that dude loved?
It was to watch his baby girl play ball. ”
She swipes away a tear before it rolls down her cheek. “And even though I’m sure it’s impossible, and I know playing without him being there is painful, you’ve got to believe that somehow, someway … he’s still with you every time you step onto the field. Because I know he is.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, and my vision blurs. I try my best to keep my tears at bay, just like I have since I got back to campus, but it’s hard. And before I have time to answer, Haven’s arms are wrapped around me, and she hugs me tightly across the center console of her Jeep.
“Coach has been patient, but I’m sure she’s tired of watching me suck too,” I say against her hair, wincing. “And I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t blame her if she let someone else catch for our opening game in February either.”
“She knows you’re just hurting. It’s only been a month,” she murmurs. “Besides, we’re all family. And you know as well as I do, you can’t hate your family for being sad.”
My response takes me longer than I’d like, but inside, I’m fighting back all the emotions that want to flow out like a river.
She’s right though. And inside, even though I do miss my dad terribly and am still struggling with losing him, I think I’m also scared that if I allow myself to feel joy again or to love softball the way I did when he and I played on our lawn, I’ll be consumed with guilt because how could someone just be okay when her dad dies?
Moving on from this just feels so wrong.
But my dad wouldn’t want me to be sad. And he certainly wouldn’t want me to throw all my hard work away. Especially when his last words to me meant that he died believing my hard work paid off and I had made it.
“You’re right,” I agree, burying my face into her shoulder. “Thank you, Haven. For always telling it like it is. Even when I don’t want to hear it.”
She wraps her arms around me, rubbing my back with her palm. “Always, Meadows. Always.”
For the longest time, we sit in her now warm car in absolute silence. Finally, I lift my head, wipe my eyes, and breathe in a long breath, like it’s the first one since losing my dad. I let it fill my body and somehow remind myself that I have the privilege of being alive.
I have the privilege to play softball at NEU, and I need to seize the opportunity and stop playing sad and scared.
“Wanna go to that ice cream place?” she says, knocking her head slightly against mine.
I nod, so thankful for a friend like Haven. I’ve had loss—that’s true. But I can sit back and see that I’ve also gained a lot in the past few years. From now on, that’s what I’m going to try to focus on.
Not because it’s easy to always see the bright side …
But because that’s what my dad would want for me.
And the first thing I’m going to do to get back to myself is read the letter he gave me. Because for weeks, I’ve been too scared to open it. I owe it to him to read it. And I also think if I’m going to move on with my life, it’s what I have to do.