Chapter 28
Sage
I’ve been home from the hospital for three days. Jane took me back to her place and I’ve managed to shower on my own and read several pages without getting a headache. They’re small wins, but they bring me closer to visiting Casey in California.
I’m wearing my best dress, the long light blue one with white irises and a sweater since the weather has gotten chillier now that it’s October.
“Hey, you look nice,” says Jane when I open her car door.
“I hope your mother-in-law thinks so, too,” I mumble.
“Oh, she’ll love anything you wear. You make her son happy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Casey’s father answers the door and pulls us both in for a hug at the same time. “How are two of my favorite girls doing today?”
“Great,” says Jane and kisses his cheek. “You’re in a good mood.”
“My son is playing game seven of the World Series, and I’ve got my favorite people here to share it with me.”
Anthony and Charlie are already sitting on the couch munching on caramel popcorn.
Cassandra is on her phone, but she looks up now and again.
“Hi, Aunt Sage,” they all greet me. I kiss the top of their heads and head into the kitchen where I find Casey’s mom.
She’s wearing her son’s jersey and I smile.
“Oh, hi, dear,” she says, looking me up and down. “You look nice.”
“Thank you. I like your outfit better, though.”
She winks and pulls out a tray of sandwiches. “Are you hungry?”
I ate before coming here, not sure what to expect, but I take one anyway. “Thank you.”
She’s being suspiciously nice and I’m not sure if it’s genuine like Jane said or if she’s testing me. For now, I’ll take it positively and hope for the best.
Mrs. Tucker passes the sandwich tray around and then sets it on the table.
“The Jets have really come together these last two games,” says the television announcer. “It seemed like the Philly’s would take this series, having scored the go-ahead runs in the ninth innings, upsetting L.A. fans when they had the lead. But everything changed when Casey Tucker came back.”
“They sure did, Jim. He’s been the difference these last two games, no one can deny it.
He has shut the Philly’s team down in extraordinary fashion.
I think this is the best baseball we’ve seen him play, and that’s saying a lot for a man who’s pitched a perfect game. But he’s been perfect here as well.”
The room bursts into cheers and Casey’s father suspiciously wipes his cheek.
“The team never said why he missed those three games, but it must have been important.”
Mrs. Tucker looks at me quickly then turns away.
“Well, he’s here now, and if the Jets can hold the lead until he gets on the mound, I think they can go all the way.”
“Yes!” shouts Anthony and some of his popcorn falls onto his lap. He quickly gathers the tossed pieces and throws them into his mouth, hiding all the evidence.
Jane squeezes my hand on the couch, and we both smile as the first batter comes up to the plate.
It seems surreal watching Casey Tucker play in the World Series in his very own living room. I don’t think I ever dared to dream of it.
A little after the third inning, Anthony turns around. “Grandma, can I get some water?”
Mrs. Tucker pushes herself off the couch, but I stop her. “Please let me. I should move, otherwise I’ll go crazy just sitting here.”
She smiles. “There are bottles in the fridge. Help yourself to anything you might like as well.”
“I will, thanks.”
I wasn’t lying. I have to move my body and release some of the tension in my shoulders.
The game is tied and the starting pitcher’s fast ball has been slowing down.
It looks like they’re probably going to go to their bullpen earlier than usual.
I wonder if that means they will have to use Casey more, too.
Could his arm handle all the throwing he’s done these last two games?
He hasn’t pitched three games in a row in months at least.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Mrs. Tucker’s voice startles me, and I nearly drop the two water bottles in my hands.
“Oh. I… uh … Jane said you invited me.”
She smiles. “That’s not what I meant. I thought he would have flown you to California to watch the game with Austin. Anthony has a fear of flying, but I didn’t peg you as the scared type.”
“I’m not. Doctors recommended I don’t put a lot of pressure on my brain for the next little while, so flying was out.”
“I thought you don’t listen to doctors. At least that’s what you told Casey.”
Her voice is calm and her face gives nothing away. I tread carefully, yet honestly. “I think it’s important to listen to doctors, just as it’s important to get a second opinion. I had three doctors tell me the same thing. So, no, I don’t make it a habit of defying doctors’ orders.”
She walks up to me and raises her hand. The move is slow, so I don’t flinch, but when she tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, I nearly lose my balance.
“I’m glad you didn’t listen and convinced Casey to see another doctor. Thank you, Sage. You brought my son back.” Her voice wavers this time and her eyes water. But she quickly clears her throat and grabs a couple of wine glasses. “Chardonnay?”
“I’d love some.”
She smiles. “I’ll bring them right out.”
When I return to the living room, there’s a crack of the bat from the television, and then everyone is jumping up and down. “Homerun!” shouts Charlie. “It’s a homerun.”
“That ball is gone,” confirms the announcer.
“Oh wow, the Jets are in the lead. But I don’t think Castillo can do another inning.”
“I don’t think so, either,” I say and thank Mrs. Tucker when she hands me a glass of wine. “Are they bringing out Casey?”
The manager signals the dugout, and we know who he’s asking for. It’s the ninth inning of Game 7 of the World Series, and Casey hasn’t let them down yet.
“Oh, God, I don’t think I can watch,” says his mother.
“It’s just a game, sweetheart. He’ll be fine.”
But I can sympathize with Mrs. Tucker. I pace the room, taking quick glances at the television while Casey warms up on the mound.
The first batter walks up to the plate, shakes the dirt off his shoes and stares Casey down, but Casey strikes him out with three pitches.
The room sighs in relief. But the next batter hits a line drive down the middle and the outfielder misses the cut-off man giving the runner an extra base. This makes a double play very difficult for Casey, and I bite my nails contemplating how he should handle this next batter.
“I think he should walk him,” says his father. “He has an open base.”
“But if he does that, that would be two on base with only one out. There’s a good chance they’ll score.”
“Yes, but they still have the ninth inning to catch up.”
I shake my head.
“The Philly’s closer stinks, that’s why they’re offering Casey an obscene amount of money to sign him.”
I whip my head around. “They are?”
Casey and I don’t talk about money. I always feel out of depth when we do. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. I make my own and live comfortably. But it still makes me wonder why he never mentioned it before.
Casey faces the next batter, and he’s down in the count, having pitched two balls and no strikes.
“Come on, Casey,” says his dad. “Don’t be scared. Pitch him the fastball, see if he can hit it.”
I feel that’s a risky strategy, but I won’t contradict Mr. Tucker in his own home.
Casey prepares for the next pitch. I zone in on his face; it’s scrunched up and he has a snarl on his lips.
Everything seems to move slowly. It’s that moment in the movies when the music changes, and you know something bad is going to happen, but you can’t stop it. You just clench your fists and wait.
Casey throws the ball and the batter loads. He pulls back his hands and steps forward.
Crack!
The batter smacks the fastball with the barrel of his bat, right down the middle. Straight ahead. Directly towards Casey’s face.
Oh my God!
Everything happens so quickly, yet my mind is already three steps ahead.
Except… Yes… Yes, I’m wrong!
Casey jerks out of the way and throws his glove hand up, catching the ball mid-air. Then, he quickly pivots and throws it to second base before the runner has a chance to get back to the bag. “He’s out!” shouts the announcer. “That’s a double play. The Jets win the World Series!”
The room erupts into chaos. Mr. Tucker grabs Mrs. Tucker and kisses her hard on the lips. Anthony and Charlie hug and cry at the same time while Jane pulls Cassandra up and into her arms. “Oh, my God, they won!”
I’m frozen. I had seen it clearly in my head. I saw the ball hit Casey and knock him out for dead. I saw it so clearly that I thought it was true. It takes a moment for my brain to realize that’s not what happened.
Casey shut them down. He won it for them. He kept his composure and wits about him and caught the ball heading straight for him.
My knees buckle and Jane catches me before I fall to the floor. “Sage, Sage, are you ok?” She leads me to the couch, and I tumble like a ragdoll onto the cushions.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just thought… oh my God… oh my God, he did it!” Reality sets in and I start laughing hysterically. “He did it!”
Mr. Tucker turns to me and grins. “He sure did.”
Jane’s phone rings and she answers it. “Yes, we saw. I can’t believe it. Hold on, I’ll get Anthony.”
She passes the phone to her son.
“Dad, Dad, Uncle Casey was awesome. He was incredible.”
“I’m going to get a bottle of champagne I’ve been saving,” says Mr. Tucker. He runs out of the room, the fastest I’ve seen him move since his heart attack. He’s back and pops the bottle open. “Whoopee, I can’t wait to taste this one. I’ve been holding onto it since the day Casey was born.”
“Uh… Dad, where did you keep it?” asks Jane. “Is it still good for consumption after all this time?”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll just get us some beers instead.”
“Shh, shh,” says Mrs. Tucker, waving her hands frantically. “Casey’s on the television. They’re about to interview him.”
Casey is soaked, his hair dripping with champagne. He’s wearing goggles on his forehead, keeping the burning bubbly out of his eyes for now. Those big blue eyes are bright, and his smile is almost larger than his handsome face.
“Casey, can you take us through those final moments of the game?”
“Sure, Jim,” he says, wiping the rivulets of champagne dripping onto his mouth. “I felt confident I could throw him a fastball. I knew he would hit it, but I had faith that my infield would get to it. I just didn’t expect it would come straight to me.”
“Yes, and thank goodness you grabbed that. Then to have the presence of mind to throw to first and get the double play. That was impressive considering it was game seven.”
“I wasn’t thinking about what game it is. I was thinking how many outs I need to finish this inning. I figured I needed two more, so I would try to get the runner at second out any way I could, and I did.”
“Well, congratulations, Casey. You’ve had a tough road getting back here. Some critics counted you out, so what do you say to those people?”
“Nothing. But I have a lot to say to everyone who believes in me. To my family and friends and neighbors in my hometown Cedar Brook Falls, thank you for believing in me. And to my girlfriend, Sage,” he wipes his face, “I love you. You’re the reason I’m standing here today.
” He turns to the camera and clenches the microphone.
“We did it, Sage. We did it. I’m coming home to you, baby. ”
I press my lips together, but the tears fall anyway. “I love you, too,” I whisper, but I know everyone hears me. The room is silent, everyone’s eyes are on me, but I can’t tear mine away from the television screen.
“Well, that was an emotional tribute,” says the announcer. “I don’t know who that Sage woman is, but she’s one lucky lady.”
“A pretty special one, I think,” says Mrs. Tucker, and I release a shaky breath. She’s smiling and her eyes are soft. “Thank you,” she says.
I can’t hold back a sob, and she puts her arms around me.
“You’re welcome,” I cry into her shoulder.
I can’t explain the emotion. It feels good to have his mother’s approval, but more than that, it feels good to be embraced by a mother.
It makes me miss my own at the same time as I take comfort that I have this moment with her.
I bury my face into her sweater.
Oh geez.
I’m such a mess.
She rubs my back and pats my hair. “Come on, you heard Casey. We’ve got another homecoming to plan.”