Chapter 4
Casey
I’ve been in L.A. for a couple of weeks now and I’m finally back at the clubhouse.
Sitting in the Jets’ locker room a few hours before our first home game, my agent, Brett Campbell, is standing across from me.
“Why are you even here, Brett?” I ask, staring at the man as he paces around the benches.
“I can have this conversation with Gainsboro on my own.”
His beige suit is loose on him but at least he’s wearing one. I showed up in my jeans and T-shirt. “I’m just making sure everything goes as planned.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t trust me? I said I would pitch, even though the pain isn’t completely gone, but I’ll do it.”
I don’t hide the contempt from my voice. I don’t think I’m ready to be on the mound yet, but Brett says if I don’t get back on the roster soon, it will hurt my prospects as a free agent.
“It’s not that. I just want Gainsboro to know that we’re united in this.”
He’s wringing his hands, and I narrow my eyes.
I don’t believe him. But he’s one of the best in the business and he made me one of the wealthiest players in the major leagues.
He promised if everything went smoothly this season, he would get me the biggest contract in MLB history.
I believe his exact words were, “I’m going to make you a legend. ”
Just as Brett makes his third circle around the room, Gainsboro walks in.
“Tucker,” he says after nodding at Brett. “How’s the arm?”
“Good,” I say. “The physiotherapy helped, as did the rest.”
“Are you ready to get back in there? We need you for tonight’s game.”
‘Yes’ is on the tip of my tongue but I hesitate. I don’t know why. Just then, my phone rings. I ignore it as it’s probably one of my friends wondering what the plans are for tonight.
“He’s ready,” says Brett.
Gainsboro ignores him. “Tuck?”
I inhale deeply. “I’m ready. I want to play.”
“Michael says he’s still not sure it’s a good idea. That you’re still feeling some discomfort. He’s willing to give you a cortisone shot, but you shook it off.”
“I don’t need it,” I say. I also hate the idea of numbing my body.
Gainsboro watches me carefully and tension grows in the room. My phone rings again, vibrating in my pocket.
“Do you need to get that?”
I check my phone. “It’s my brother,” I say. “Give me a second.”
“Casey is the best pitcher in the league,” Brett tells Gainsboro as I turn to take the call. “He’ll make you World Series Champions again.”
“I don’t doubt it,” says Gainsboro. “I just don’t want to risk injuring him again.”
“If he says he’s ready, then he’s ready.”
“Hello?” I answer.
“Thank God you picked up.” Austin sounds breathless.
“I can’t talk, I—”
“Casey, wait, don’t hang up. Dad is in the hospital.”
“What? What happened?”
“He had a heart attack.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. The doctors say he has three blocked arteries, and they must operate now. They sound worried. I think you should come home.”
“I’ve got a game tonight. Are you sure it’s bad?”
There’s a beat of silence. “I don’t know if he’ll make it.”
He sounds a bit dramatic, but I’m not sure. My fingers curl tightly around the phone as I look up at the men who are no longer talking but staring back at me. “I’ll call you back, I’m just speaking to my manager now.”
I end the call. “That was my brother, my dad is in the hospital. He suffered a heart attack.”
“Is he all right?” asks Gainsboro.
“I’m not sure. They’re taking him into surgery.”
Brett waves us off. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Gainsboro ignores him. “Why don’t you go home for a few days and see your dad?”
Brett jumps in before I can respond. “That isn’t necessary.”
Brett talking for me gets on my last nerve, and while a small part of me agrees with him, I’m certain my father will be fine, I still don’t like him overstepping. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll make sure he’s okay and then come back ready to pitch the next game on Sunday.”
“What?” Brett’s shocked expression gives me more pleasure than it should. “You can’t leave.”
I look at Gainsboro. “Do I have your permission to visit my dad?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.”
I shrug my shoulders at Brett. “Looks like I can leave.”
*
After packing a small carry-on, I get on the first flight to New York. It’s the red eye and I sleep most of the way in first class. Only one baseball fan recognized me at the airport when I had to remove my sunglasses and hat for security.
I land in La Guardia at nine o’clock in the morning and Billy is waiting for me when I exit the terminal.
Although I’m surprised to see him, I give him a quick slap on the shoulder and half hug.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” he says. “I told Austin I’d come pick you up.
You shouldn’t be alone right now. My car’s just outside these doors. ”
His words are kind but unnecessary. “It’s not so bad. Austin texted me that the surgery went well.” If I had received the text before boarding the plane, I may not have left. I knew it. My dad was going to be fine, so there’s no need to panic.
“Oh,” he says. His voice falters and I suspect he’s holding something back.
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh?”
“If Austin hasn’t said anything, I think it’s best you hear it from him.”
He unlocks his trunk, and I drop my carry-on inside.
“Just tell me, Billy,” I say, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “We have a three-hour drive to Cedar Brook Falls, and if something is wrong I want to know now.”
He sighs. “Fine. But act surprised when Austin tells you.”
I promise him no such thing.
“Your dad hasn’t woken up from surgery yet.”
I shrug. “Well, it’s only been a few hours.”
He nods, but his eyes are still sad. “The doctors say he should have woken up by now. They worry he may have lost too much oxygen. He went for a nap upstairs and they don’t know how long he was unconscious before your mom found him.”
Settling into the passenger seat, the news that my father may not be out of the woods yet feels like someone shutting off the lights in a crowded room.
Anxiety creeps through my fingers and I clench them over my thighs.
I can’t fathom the idea of my father not being well. I refuse to even consider it.
We don’t talk much, at least I don’t. Billy tries to chat about baseball, but I can’t seem to do more than nod.
He takes the hint early into the drive and leaves me to look out the window for the remainder of the trip.
Finally, he pulls up to the hospital, and I follow him to the fifth floor, the cardiac unit.
Austin, Jane, and the pretty blonde from Charlotte’s party are standing in the hallway. Austin lifts his head and smiles when he sees me. His smile loosens the knots in my chest, and I inhale deeply, not realizing how shallow my breaths have been up to this point.
“You came,” he says, and pulls me into his arms. As my older brother, Austin never shied away from showing affection. It’s what makes him a great husband and father.
“Of course I did.” The surprise in his voice grates me, but I hold back since I did, for a second, wonder if it was necessary to come. “How’s Dad? Is he awake?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. But the doctors say his vitals are better and think it will only be a matter of time until he does.”
I nod. “Can I see him?”
“Absolutely.”
Jane steps forward and raises her arms for a hug. “Good to see you,” she whispers in my ear. I nod, and my gaze lands on her friend a few feet behind her.
She offers a weak smile and a nod, and I return her greeting. Her long curly hair is pulled into a messy bun, and her eyes are softer than I remember. The last time I saw her, they were spitting fire at me. Now, I sense pity in them, and I quickly turn away.
Following Austin into the room, my lungs tighten at the sight in front of me. At six-foot-three, my father had always been the tallest man I knew until I went to college. As a child, he was a giant in my eyes, never a frail bone in his body.
I don’t recognize the pale, gaunt face with white stubble. My father has always been clean-shaven. He hated the new bearded trend. He called it lazy. “Didn’t have enough time to shave this morning, son?” he’d ask whenever I would video chat with him.
My walking pace matches the machine beeping beside him. When I reach the foot of his bed, I can’t bring myself to get any closer. It’s as though my heart doesn’t want to recognize the frail body in front of me as my father.
“He looks better today,” says Austin. “I didn’t think he’d make it through the night. But I told him you were coming, and I swear, Casey, his lips moved.”
I don’t want to tell Austin that it was probably his imagination. If it makes him feel better then I’d let him have it.
“Where’s his razor?”
“His what?”
“His razor. Dad hates a beard.”
“I don’t think he cares right now.”
“He will when he wakes up. Do you have one here? If not, I’ll get mine.”
“No. I didn’t bring one.”
I turn around.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the car to get one from my bag.”
Jane and her friend are still in the hallway, and they lift their heads up when they see me walk out, Austin trailing behind.
“Casey?” Jane asks, surprised. “Where are you going? You’re not leaving already, are you?”
I close my eyes at her question. How could she think that? I know my track record hasn’t been the greatest, but I would never leave at a time like this. “I’ll be right back,” I say and jog to the elevator.
I’m back in less than five minutes with an electric shaving kit.
“You’re serious?” Austin asks when he sees me pull out the shaver and change the blade to the lowest setting.
“Like a heart attack,” I say, trying a light-hearted joke to ease his concern, but his stricken face tells me it’s too soon. “Sorry.”
Austin smiles and I do, too.
Jane and the blonde walk in behind me. “What’s going on?” asks Jane. “Is that a shaver?”
“Yup,” says Austin and crosses his arms with a grin on his face.
I turn on the gadget, and it buzzes loudly in the room. The shaver vibrates against my hand, and I grip it tighter.
“Wait,” the blonde calls behind me. She grabs a towel and arranges it snugly beneath my father’s chin and around his neck.
She has long, slender fingers. No nail polish, but clean manicured nails. “Thanks,” I say when she stands back.
I lift my dad’s chin and start with his cheek and go around his jaw. I pull the skin tightly as I maneuver around his neck. It’s difficult since he’s sitting up.
“Hold on.” She presses a button on the rails, and the bed slowly moves down into a flatter position. His neck is fully exposed now.
“Have you done this before?” I ask.
She blinks with her mouth slightly open.
I laugh at her expression. “I’m just teasing, but you have been helpful.”
She doesn’t laugh but I’m too focused on not cutting my father’s chin to check if she’s smiling. I move carefully around his mouth, pulling his upper lip down to shave below his nose.
With her sure hands, she drags the towel along as I move across my father’s face. A few minutes later, I’m done, and she gathers the towel and brings it to the washroom. I follow to rinse out my shaver.
“I don’t remember your name.”
“It’s Sage.” She moves away from the sink to give me room.
“Thanks, Sage.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stands patiently beside me and watches as I wash the blade.
“I was just teasing you back there, about knowing your way around shaving a man in a hospital bed.”
“I know.”
She isn’t smiling. “Did I offend you?”
She inhales slowly and looks me in the eye. They’re a little watery. “No.”
Then she walks away.
“I’ll see you later, Jane,” she says as she leaves the hospital room.
I can’t seem to say the right thing around her. She’s always storming off.
I shrug my shoulders and walk back to my father.
“I can take you back to the house to unpack,” says Austin.
I pull up a chair beside my dad’s bed. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer. You go ahead. I’ll take a cab.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Austin hesitates but Jane pushes him out of the room.
I lean back in the chair and examine my work. Finally, with a clean-shaven face, I recognize my father and exhale. “Hey, Dad,” I whisper, leaning closer to him. “It’s me. Casey.”
I clear my throat. I feel stupid talking to him like he can hear me, but there’s this pressure in my chest that I need to get the words out.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back home. But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere until you wake up.”
I reach for his hand and rub my thumb over his knuckles. His hand is warm and still bigger than mine. I find comfort in that. I squeeze it and then sit back in my chair, listening to the beeping of the machine.