Chapter 38
MYLES
I wake up to a knock at my door. The sun is too bright and I squint. My head pounds from my lack of sleep. How was I supposed to sleep when I knew my mom was crying in her bedroom?
“Can I come in?” Mom asks.
“Yes,” I say a little too quietly.
She steps in and sits on the corner of my bed. She smooths out the sheet like she’s trying to keep her hands busy. Then she leans over and picks up the picture of Dad and me from my bedside table. “Your father was an amazing person.”
Her eyes are puffy, but she isn’t crying right now. She looks at the picture with a smile. “I remember when we took this photo. He was so proud of you.”
It was at one of my first Little League games.
When I close my eyes, I can still see my parents sitting on the bleachers, cheering.
Their smiling faces. Their hands waving as I stood, ready to bat.
I hit the ball and ran as hard as I possibly could.
I made it all the way around, diving forward to slide through the dirt as my fingers managed to touch home plate just in time.
After the game Dad hugged me and his smile was so big it almost touched his ears. “That’s my boy,” he’d said. He lifted me onto his shoulders and I touched the sky. My heart was full and in that moment I had everything I could ever want.
Mom stands back up. “I want you to get dressed and meet me in the car. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”
“What about school?”
“This is more important.”
That’s it. She doesn’t say anything else. There’s no explanation, not even a hint as to where she’s taking me. She ruffles the curls on my head and walks out of the room.
I’m left stunned. I don’t know what I expected after last night, but it wasn’t this. I thought maybe she’d avoid me or yell, but she’s calm.
I roll out of bed and get ready. By the time I make it downstairs, she’s already waiting in the car. I get into the passenger seat and wait for her to say something, but she stays quiet as she drives, making my skin crawl. Where are we going?
The drive isn’t long, twenty minutes at most, but when we pull up at a large warehouse-like building, I’m still at a loss.
I turn to her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
She settles back into her seat, staring forward. “This is where your dad took me on our first date. Well, not this exact place obviously, but the idea is the same.”
Their first date?
I look out at the sign of the building—Cave and Cage.
She opens the door. “Come on. You’ll see.”
I hurry to follow her out of the car, and as soon as we step inside the building, I know. It’s an indoor batting cage facility, and it looks fairly new.
Mom walks to the front desk. “Hi, I have a reservation.”
The young man behind the desk welcomes her in, shows us which batting cage is ours, makes sure we have the right equipment, and runs through their safety instructions.
“Is this right?” Mom asks, putting her helmet on. “It’s been a while.”
The corner of my mouth turns up as I adjust it for her.
I’ve never seen my mom like this before, and never in a million years did I picture us together in a batting cage.
She holds the bat, swinging it a couple of times. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I nod.
Her eyes narrow and her lips pinch together before she says, “I used to hate baseball.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She taps the bat on the ground. “I thought it was incredibly boring.”
I cover my ears like she’s physically hurting me. “You can’t say that.”
“It’s true. I’d rather watch golf.” She pauses and holds up a finger. “Actually, that’s a lie. Golf might be worse.”
I laugh. “Careful, don’t let anyone hear you.”
She swings the bat again. “It’s okay. I’m armed.”
“Like you’d hit someone with that.”
She frowns. “Hey, don't test me.”
I hold up my hands and step back. “Alright. You win.”
She grins, satisfied with my response. “The point is, I hated baseball until your dad helped me understand it. When I saw how much he loved it, I couldn’t help but appreciate it too.”
“But not love, huh?”
“That’s what he had you for.” She winks at me. “It was like you were a miniature version of him. You were swinging a bat while you were still in diapers.”
“I doubt that.”
“I have the pictures to prove it.”
I laugh again. “Okay.”
“You’re still a lot like him, and sometimes that worries me.”
Why would that be a problem? He was a good person who worked hard.
“He didn’t know when to stop. He’d fixate on something so much that nothing else mattered.
He got hurt, just like you did, his junior year of college.
” She steps closer, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“And when he started playing again, nothing was the same. He couldn’t pitch like he did before.
He was so upset he dropped out of school and became depressed. ”
I never knew he was depressed. I don’t remember him that way. He was always so happy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He didn’t like talking about it,” she says.
“He went through a time where he wouldn’t talk about baseball.
He threw away all his awards and equipment.
Then when you were born, everything changed.
I saw his love for baseball come back when he shared it with you.
You made him so happy, but it was so much more than that. You saved him.”
“I did?”
She nods, stepping closer and putting a hand on my shoulder. “He loved you so much.”
My heart swells. Talking about him makes it feel like he’s here with us. I thought I wasn’t allowed to remember him out loud like this. Not with her. “Doesn’t it make you sad talking about him?”
She shakes her head. “I like remembering our good times.”
My eyes get hot, a tear slipping out. “You do?”
“Of course. I love him. Just because I love Adam too doesn’t mean my love for your dad is gone. That’s not how love works.”
I know it’s silly but that’s what part of me thought. I thought she’d moved on and left me behind. “Is it really okay to talk about Dad with you?”
She wipes the tear from my face. “It’s more than okay. I want you to talk to me about him. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
I hug her and cry on her shoulder like I’m a little kid again. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
She pats my back. “I love you.”
I didn’t realize how much pressure was weighing down on me until now. I feel lighter, my heart easing, and for the first time in months, I can breathe.
Mom steps back, wiping my face again. “Why don’t we get some batting practice in before we run out of time? I only reserved an hour.”
We spend the rest of our time taking turns. Mom is surprisingly good at it. Even her stance is great. When she strikes the ball, it flies through the air and hits the net like she’s a pro.
I had no idea she had these hidden skills. Maybe she missed her calling.
“I learned from the best,” she says, winking.
It’s so funny seeing her blonde curls bounce beneath the helmet with each swing, and I can’t help but laugh at the face she makes when she occasionally misses the ball. “That one had a mind of its own.”
The hour goes by too fast, and I wish we could stay here all day.
Not just because I love baseball, but because I genuinely enjoy spending time with Mom like this.
All this time I thought talking to her about Dad would be hard, but this is easy.
She tells me about their first date and how it was so bad she thought he’d never call her again.
She tells me about the first baseball game he ever took me to and how I spilled soda all over myself.
He took off his shirt and I wore it like a dress so we wouldn’t have to leave early.
We’re not crying. We’re laughing.
Mom is smiling, and I feel closer to her than I have in a long time.
When it’s all over, we head back to the car. Mom turns the key in the ignition. “My arms are already sore.”
“Maybe we need to do this more often.”
“I think you’re right,” she says.
We head back toward our house, but she doesn’t turn down the right road. She drives past it, and I assume she’s running an errand. Then I see the school come into view. “You didn’t want me to miss the whole school day?”
“You have a game tomorrow. You can’t miss practice.”
My eyes widen and my chest squeezes tight. “But I thought . . .”
She takes a deep breath, parking the car in front of the school’s large steps. “It scared me when you got hurt, and what you did was wrong. But taking something away from you that’s this important isn’t right either.”
I want to cry all over again because after last night I thought I’d never get to play again.
“I should’ve realized why you reacted the way you did, and I’m sorry it took me this long.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “But I need you to talk to me about how you feel. Don’t pull away from me again.”
I squeeze her hand back, but I want to throw my arms around her neck and hug her. “I love you.”
“I already called your coach and he’s expecting you at practice this afternoon.
” She smiles. Then she gives me a look. A very motherly look.
“I want to be your friend, but I’m also your mother.
Which means I’m going to be grounding you for a month.
No car. You have perfectly good legs and you’ll be walking to school. ”
I laugh, nodding. “Deal.”
“Your bag is in the trunk,” she says, parking the car.
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” I hop out of the car, ready to run into the school with a full heart.
“Myles?”
I pause, holding the door.
“Could Adam and I come to your game tomorrow?”
For some reason the idea makes my heart flutter when I picture them sitting in the bleachers, and I nod.
She smiles back. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I confirm.
This is our new beginning.