CHAPTER SIX
PARKER
Last night was a good time, despite the envy I felt for every person Poppy talked to when she wasn’t talking to me. That sounds a little stalkerish now that I think about it, but I just wanted to keep talking to her. I wanted to keep making her smile. I wanted to hear one more laugh pass her lips. God, maybe that is stalkerish.
I watched her talk to Kelly Ann and the others, then go to the bar and talk to Wade. She kept running her hand over her hair, and I remember she used to do that in class when she’d get a little nervous. It would be before a test or on a day we all had to stand and give presentations in front of everyone. And just like back then, all I could think about was my desire to calm her down, to still her somehow.
“Hey, Romeo,” Tom says. “Stop daydreaming about hearts and rainbows and get over here.”
Dammit, Tom. “I’m coming, you jackass.”
“Careful,” he says. “Kids will be showing up any minute. Any last cusses you need to get out of your system?”
How do you tell someone in a nice way that they’re the main reason you feel like cussing? I don’t think there is one, so I sigh and say, “No, Tom. I’m all done.” You wrinkled old bastard.
I would never actually call Tom that. He’s a good man. He likes to see how high he can make my blood pressure rise, but I think he means it in the best way.
A few moments later, the first of the cars containing parents and little leaguers pulls into the gravel parking lot and after that it’s like dominoes. One after another file in and I start to sweat over the number of boys showing up. It’s a lot. I don’t know how my roster will ever handle this but I’m prepared for chaos.
Finally, I see her. She’s tucked into the middle of the pack, her hand on a boy’s shoulder as she guides him toward the bleachers I’m standing in front of.
Poppy is wearing high waisted jeans shorts and a white top. She’s got her hair pulled back into a ponytail with little tendrils falling out in the front and sunglasses on. She’s a vision. And she must feel me staring at her because she suddenly looks my way and starts waving.
She changes directions, steering toward me, her son at her side.
“Hi,” she says. “Wow, there’s a lot of boys here.”
“Hi, I say. “Yeah, quite the turn out.”
“This is Aiden,” she says. “I just wanted to introduce you.”
She turns toward her son, pointing at me. “Aiden, this is my friend Parker. We went to school together.”
“Hi, Aiden,” I say, offering my hand to him. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Hi,” he says, taking my hand.
I can tell he’s a shy one. It probably takes him a little while to come out of his shell but I’m prepared for that. If I know one thing, it’s that in order to even be considered for a shot at taking Poppy on a date, I’ve got to win over Aiden. If he doesn’t like me, this whole thing goes to shit.
“Why don’t you join the boys over there?” I say, gesturing to the group.
Aiden nods, adjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder and walks toward them. I know he doesn’t have any friends here yet so hopefully this will make it easier. Teams are good for that. Kids bond and those bonds can run pretty deep.
I turn my attention to Poppy, her motherly gaze recognizable even from behind the shades. I know she’s watching him with equal parts concern and pride. I’m not a parent myself but I’ve worked with them long enough to know how to read them and what they’re thinking. And maybe I’m especially in tune because I really want to be a parent someday.
“He’s a shy kid sometimes, but when he opens up, he can be a real clown,” she says.
“I’m sure he’s a great kid,” I say. “He’s yours afterall.”
Poppy makes eye contact with me, her lips curling into a smile. God, that smile.
“Thank you,” she says.
There’s a moment of silence, a pause I desperately want to fill with the question that’s been burning a hole in my brain but I don’t get the chance before she speaks.
“Well, I better get out of your way,” she says. “Go join the other moms in the bleachers.”
“We’ll talk after,” I say, solidifying another opportunity.
“For sure,” she says, as she turns away.
I watch her for a few moments as she navigates her way to a spot towards the top. She reaches into the bag at her side and pulls out a can of Dr. Pepper. She pops the tab and puts it to her lips. What I would give to be that can.
“Ready to get started?” Tom asks, clasping my shoulder. “Or are you still makin’ eyes at your girl?”
“Tom, I swear,” I say. “You are such a—”
“Careful,” Tom says, interrupting. “There’s little ears around.”
“Butthead.”
Tom laughs, shaking his head. “Let’s go, Romeo.”
***
It takes us three hours to cycle all the boys through tryouts and practice. It doesn’t usually take that long but the roster this summer is abnormally long.
There are a few players who are really good, Aiden included. They’re genuinely talented kids who may have a future playing baseball. Others have a longer way to go. And a few… let’s just say they really try. One kid in particular, well, he’s just going to have to be the waterboy. Clay Thomas doesn’t have an athletic bone in his body. But his father played ball in school with me and his mom was a cheerleader. Which is to say, he’s not here by choice.
“Okay, gather around,” I say, clapping my hands. “Good job today, really good hustle out there. When I see you next week, I’m going to have all your assignments. And remember, every single position is important. Whether you’re a pitcher, a fielder, or you’re the equipment specialist. You’re all important.”
The boys begin to gather their things. Some are visibly exhausted while others seem to have enough energy to run the entire three hours back again. I think I’m somewhere in the middle. I’d like to get home, crack open a cold non-alcoholic beer, and sit by the fire pit in my backyard.
“You’re a great coach,” Poppy says, her voice coming suddenly from behind me.
I turn to see her standing here, one hand on her hip and the other occupied with tucking a few strands of her behind her ear.
“Thank you,” I say, completely ignoring the equipment I was packing into a bag.
This is it. This is the moment I seize and ask her out. Or maybe I at least find out if she’s open to being asked out.
“So how are you doing after seeing everyone last night?” I ask.
“Honestly, it was really nice. I was surprised to feel so welcomed,” she says.
“Why would you feel that way?”
“Because of how I was over the years. Distant. Short. I wasn’t exactly a great friend,” she says.
“Well, we all blamed Wayne for that,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“You weren’t wrong,” she says, laughing.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’d like to take you somewhere, if you’re up for it?”
“Right now?” She asks.
“No, I was thinking tomorrow night,” I say.
Poppy studies my face before answering, “Like a date?”
“Not like a date. A date. A for sure, no confusion or wondering if it is. A date,” I say.
I take a half a step toward her, closing a bit of the distance between us. It’s just enough that she has to raise her chin to make eye contact with me. Or I could easily raise my arm to grip her side.
“I don’t know,” she says. ‘And believe me, this has nothing to do with you. I’m not sure I’m ready. There are moments when I think I am and then I panic and quickly change my mind. I’m a total mess.”
“You’re not a mess,” I say. I reach up and tuck a loose strand behind her ear. My hand lingers there for a moment longer than it should. “You’re someone who’s been through something big and it’s going to take a while for you to adjust. I get it.” I grab the bag of equipment from the ground and sling it over my shoulder. “Just do me a favor?”
“What?” She asks.
“Let me know when you are ready, okay mama?” I step back from her, waiting for her response before I turn away.
“You’ll be the first to know,” she says, smiling.
I nod, turning to take the equipment to the storage building. Well, that’s that. It wasn’t the answer I wanted but I get it. I understand the situation she’s in. I’m sure at first for most people divorce is a scary thing, lots of uncertainty. She had a life and not it’s ripped apart and she has to begin to create an entirely different life. It will probably take some time.
I’m not a prideful man. I don’t feel rejected like some might. And more importantly, I’m a very patient man. I’ve been waiting a long time. And I can wait some more.