Chapter 18 #3
The game started with Ridgefield scoring two quick runs in the first inning, their pitcher throwing heat that made our boys look rattled and uncertain.
But by the third inning, we'd evened the score, and Devin had gotten on base twice with solid hits that suggested he was seeing the ball well despite whatever family stress might be affecting his concentration.
"There's your boy," Carol said when Devin stepped into the batter's box with runners on first and second. "Money player. Always comes through when it matters."
She was right. Devin had that quality you couldn't teach, the ability to focus completely on what mattered most when everything else felt chaotic and uncertain.
He took the first pitch for a strike, then fouled off two borderline calls before connecting with a fastball that cleared the left field fence by twenty feet.
Home run. Three runs scored. We were ahead 5-2, and the crowd was on its feet screaming approval for a kid who'd just proven he belonged at whatever level wanted him.
I jumped up with everyone else, cheering until my throat hurt, watching my son round the bases with the biggest grin I'd seen from him since this family disaster began.
When he crossed home plate, his teammates mobbed him with the enthusiasm of young players ho understood that moments like this were worth treasuring.
But through all the chaos, Devin found me in the stands and pointed directly at my seat. My eyes filled with tears that had nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with having children who knew how to love people properly.
"That boy of yours is special," Katy said tenderly. "Not just talented, but special. He looks out for his family, he handles pressure well, and he treats his teammates with respect. You raised him right."
We won 7-3, with Devin getting three hits and making two spectacular defensive plays that had college scouts taking notes in whatever private language they used to evaluate teenage athletes.
After the game, he jogged over to where parents were waiting, his face still flushed with victory and the pure joy that came from doing something you loved better than anyone expected.
"Did you see that homer?" he asked, wrapping both Kimberly and me in a group hug. "I knew it was gone the second I made contact. Best feeling in the world."
"We saw it," Kimberly said, pulling back to look at her brother with pride that made sibling relationships worth cherishing. "Everyone saw it. You're probably on someone's highlight reel already."
"The UConn scout was here tonight," he continued, his excitement making his speech crack slightly as he tried to contain it. "Coach said he wants to meet with me after next week's game. If we play like we did tonight, I think I've got a real shot at this."
I watched my son talk about his dreams. He’s worked hard enough to deserve good things happening to him, and I felt something I hadn't experienced in months.
Hope. Not for my marriage or my family structure or anything that had been broken beyond repair, but for the future.
For the possibility that endings could also be beginnings, that divorce could be liberation instead of just failure.
"We're proud of you," I said. "Not just tonight, but for how you're handling everything that's happening with our family. You're stronger than I expected, and that's saying something."
Devin's expression shifted from celebration to something more serious, like he understood that family compliments carried extra importance during times when everything felt uncertain and unstable.
"We're going to be okay," he said, looking directly at me. "All of us. Whatever happens with Dad, whatever the divorce looks like, we're going to figure it out together."
The drive home took fifteen minutes.
"Thank you," I said as we pulled into our driveway. "Both of you. For staying close instead of running away from family drama. For supporting me instead of making me feel guilty about finally fighting back. For being exactly the people I hoped you'd become when you were little."
"We learned it from you," Kimberly said, reaching forward from the back seat to squeeze my shoulder. "How to love people enough to stick around when things get difficult, and to fight for what matters.
I made hot chocolate while Kimberly and Devin rehashed every moment of the game, analyzing defensive plays and batting techniques and whether the UConn scout had seemed impressed by what he'd witnessed.
Normal family conversation that didn't require thoughtful navigation around anyone's lies or hidden agendas.
"I should probably get some sleep," Devin said around ten-thirty, standing to clear mugs and rinse them in the sink like someone who'd been raised to clean up after himself.
After he went upstairs, Kimberly looked at me.
"How are you really doing?" She asked, settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her like she used to when she was little and needed comfort after bad dreams.
"Better than I expected," I said, meaning it. "I thought I'd feel more sad about the marriage ending, more scared about starting over. But mostly I just feel relieved that I don't have to pretend anymore."