Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Logan
Sunday’s game feels different from Tuesday’s.
Tuesday I was pitching toward something—away from the spiral toward Georgie.
Today, I feel like I’m pitching from the inside out.
Lucas always says to turn your brain off and just be the ball, and this is the first time in my life I’ve known what he was talking about.
I’m not thinking about Georgie or my family or any therapeutic techniques.
I’m simply feeling the laces under my fingertips, hefting the weight of the ball, and releasing from my fingertips as cleanly as I exhale.
It’s as calm as I’ve ever been on the mound.
When Fletch takes me out in the middle of the sixth, Rojas picks me up when I pass him, pounding my back and shouting, “My man!” He slaps my butt as we walk into the dugout together. “That was it,” Rojas says. “This is it!”
Two weeks ago, that thought would have had me spiraling.
Not anymore.
I nod and sit with him, reveling in the feeling of six innings, one run, and eleven strikeouts. I wasn’t counting, but Rojas was.
I wasn’t counting.
That’s new.
***
Doug finds me before I’ve finished changing.
Doug—the GM of the Firebirds—is here in the locker room. He was here at the game. He’s in his typical team-branded pullover and khakis, but the former player looks like he could suit up and show us all he’s still got it.
“Fischer,” he says.
“Which one?” I ask with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Your sister’s in Chicago with the staff, and your brother had better still be in Miami in the ice bath after that start. I need his arm steady in October.”
That’s right. The Firebirds started a series in Miami a couple of days ago. Lucas is forty minutes away from me, and it hasn’t even occurred to me that I could have seen him this week.
Who are you and what did you do with Logan Fischer? I think.
“Logan Fischer,” Doug says, echoing my thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”
He sits down on the bench across from my locker, unfazed by the occasional nudity around him.
“Great game,” he says.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Is this the new normal or a blip?”
I catch myself before I choke on a laugh. “Uh, new normal, I hope.”
“You sure?”
My mind jumps instantly to Georgie, to the way she smiles in every selfie she sends with my hat on her head. Then, for a moment, even she fades away, and I have that feeling of connection with the ball—connection and release.
I look him straight in the eye. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good. We’re moving Hernandez to the injured list on Thursday. I need you in Chicago that night.”
That night?
I look at my cleats.
“Okay,” I say.
He nods before reaching a hand out and gripping my shoulder—brief but firm. “Looks like your head caught up to your arm,” he says. “That’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”
Then he’s pushing up, and a minute later, I see him giving Rojas the good news, and as excited as I am, there’s already a countdown happening in my mind.
Four days.
I could text Georgie right now, but I don’t know if that countdown will mean the same thing to her it means to me.
I pull out my phone and text my family.
Logan
Just got the news from Doug. I’m heading to Chicago Thursday night.
I stare at the screen. Did I actually send them all a message about getting called up with zero hesitation or fears about this backfiring and disappointing everyone?
Problem is, I’m not sure if that’s progress or—I think about Georgie—
Avoidance.
Lucas
THAT’S MY brOTHER.
Liesel
Nuh-uh. That’s MY brother.
Papa Fisch
Great news, son. How are you feeling?
Logan
I’m past feeling. I pulled a Lucas and became one with the ball. I’m in a bucket in a storage locker somewhere waiting to be used for batting practice next week.
Papa Fisch
Don’t sell yourself short. They might sell you to fans as memorabilia. That was a heck of a game!
Liesel
Aww. Dad’s getting mushy!
Logan
A heck of a game? Yikes, Pops. Watch your mouth.
Papa Fisch
Cursing is a sign of a weak vocabulary and a weaker mind.
Lucas
Mom cursed when she drove. Do you guys remember that?
Liesel
Oh my gosh! I forgot about that! Dad, what was it she called the other drivers? The non-expletive part.
Papa Fisch
Battle-axes. Everyone was a friggin’ battle-ax.
Liesel
Oh, Mom. What a funny little Canadian.
Lucas
You’re a funny little half Canadian.
Liesel
I’m a half inch taller than she was. And we prefer eccentric.
Logan
Nothing about you is eccentric. You’re practical to the point of boredom. Your fiancé proposed to you in spreadsheet form.
Liesel
What about that isn’t eccentric?
Lucas
I was today years old when I learned it’s not “excentric.”
Do not tell my girlfriend I said that.
Liesel
Lukie, your girlfriend knows you can’t spell. She loves you anyway.
Papa Fisch
Can we get back to Logan?
Logan
Yes please. Can everyone pay attention to the guy who loves attention so much?
Lucas
You rang?
Lucas
Seriously, Logan, your stats lately are insane. How are you feeling about Chicago?
Logan
Good.
Papa Fisch
You’ve always been such a hard worker. I’m proud of you wherever you play.
Logan
Thanks, Dad.
Liesel
You got this. We love you.
Lucas
Are you speaking for the family or for you and Coop?
Liesel
Um, what?
Lucas
I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’m not sure you’re the one who gets to speak for the family.
Logan
“The Family.”
Are we in the mafia?
Lucas
HA!
Logan
Man, I really like mafia jokes.
Liesel
Dad, can you control them?
Papa Fisch
If I could, I’d have done that a long time ago.
Logan
Ditto
Papa Fisch
Son, you’re not immune to this.
Logan
Which “son?”
Papa Fisch
Son.
Logan
Maybe, I should have said solidarity. If I could have controlled Lucas, I would have a long time ago, too.
Lucas
This is fun and all, but I’ve got a date with my girlfriend.
Liesel
I’m so jealous. I hate that I don’t travel with the team.
Papa Fisch
It’s hard being away, but it makes the offseason all the more special, especially when you have such a great family. I hope each of you gets that.
Liesel
We love you, Daddy.
I speak for the family.
Fight me, bros.
Lucas
Nah, I’m good.
Logan
Wouldn’t dream of it, Lee.
We love you, Dad.
***
That night when I get back to the hotel, I have two texts from Georgie:
A congrats that comes with confetti all over my screen and a text with about twenty exclamation points.
I send her a bunch of periods back.
Georgie
Your message came through weird. It’s just a bunch of dots? Sorry if I missed something.
Logan
The dots were periods. Twenty, to be precise.
Georgie
…
Oh.
Because of my exclamation points?
Logan
Because of your exclamation points.
Georgie
Wow.
So that’s how it’s going to be?
Logan
How?
Georgie
Oh.
Um, sassy?
Logan
Men aren’t sassy.
Georgie
I think you may be the exception.
Logan
I’ll accept smart-alecky. Or cheeky, if you must.
Georgie
Nope. You’re officially sassy.
Logan
Look at you, telling me how it is.
Georgie
I don’t know how I feel about that, honestly. Was that rude?
Logan
GEORGIE.
Georgie
Never mind. I feel great about it!
Logan
The Tree would be so proud.
Georgie
I’ve been thinking about the Tree a lot lately.
Logan
Same. What are you thinking?
Georgie
If I read it the way you read it, I’m frustrated for it.
Logan
If I read it the way you read it, I’m sad for it.
I’m not sure either of us knows what’s really going on.
Georgie
I wonder if that’s the point?
The struggle to understand, I mean.
Logan
The story we tell ourselves, as you put it?
Maybe.
But I’m still not admitting defeat.
Georgie
I’m okay with that. :)
***
On Monday, I sleep on the bus next to Rojas and rouse anytime my phone buzzes in my pocket. As Florida gives way to Georgia, I get more and more excited about the prospect of seeing Georgie and taking her on an actual date.
As much as I want every notification to be a text from Georgie, though, most of them are from the Firebirds’ travel coordinator confirming my flight, arranging for my truck to be shipped, establishing my temporary housing until I transition to staying with Lucas, shipping my gear from the clubhouse, and so much more.
There should be an excitement buzzing through me, right? Or, if anxiety has its way, a low-level dread? The last two times I was called up, all I could focus on was my fear of failing and getting sent back down.
This time, all I can think of is how my time in Mullet Ridge is running out.
I don’t have to ask myself why that makes me sad.
That reason is meeting me at five PM tonight in the coffee shop that’s become my second home.
Out the window, the landscape is uniquely Southern: trees pressing in on both sides of the freeway like they’re trying to take the road back and Waffle Houses marking every exit.
I don’t understand the Waffle House thing at all.
Logan
What do you think of Waffle House?
Georgie
For tonight?
Logan
No.
No, I will not be taking you to Waffle House on our date.
Georgie
In that case, it’s fine, but the diner in Sugar Maple is way better. Their waffles are absolute heaven. And they have a fantastic Diet Coke.
Logan
I hope you’d tell me you don’t like Waffle House if I suggested it.
Georgie
I can’t make that promise.
Logan
Then I have to pull out the big guns:
I’m more of a Coke Zero guy.
Georgie
Oh dear.
It’s okay.
I can still like you.
Logan
WOW.
You like me?
Georgie
You said it first!
Logan
Maybe you are an exclamation point kind of girl.
Georgie
I think you’re converting me.
Logan
I’ll take the credit.
Georgie
Well, I have to defend the One True Soda somehow.
My mom was obsessed with Diet Coke. She said if she could bring one customer the same joy in a cup of coffee that Diet Coke brought to her, it would be worth it.
Logan
That’s adorable.
Did your mom work at Meant to Bean, too?
Georgie …
It’s a long story, but yes.
Logan
And your stepmom and stepsister run it?
Georgie
Another long story and not really worth getting into.
Logan
I bet the Tree said that a lot. Dismissed her own story to play a supporting role in someone else’s.
Georgie
…
Logan Fischer.
Logan
I’m just saying.
The Tree gave him everything she had—apples, branches, trunk—and every time, he left with it.
And she was happy. You’re right that the book says she was happy.
But I don’t think she knew she could say no.
I think she thought, well, I’m an apple tree.
I’m supposed to give and give and give, so I’ll be happy with my lot instead of being sad.
Is it really giving freely if she never knew there was another choice?
Georgie
Oh, wow. That hurts.
Logan
I know. The boy shouldn’t have taken advantage of her, but maybe there’s more to it than I made out.
It’s several minutes before Georgie answers again, during which time I’m sure she’s working. At least, I hope that’s it.
I haven’t pushed this argument too hard, have I? Have I hurt her feelings?
Georgie
Sorry, I’m back.
Logan
No apology necessary. I know you’re busy, so if you need to go or you need a brain break, I get it.
Georgie
:) Texting with you is my brain break. I have another minute.
So you *don’t* think the Tree was happy?
Logan
I think she *thought* she was happy until she saw what was happening to herself.
Georgie
This hurts my heart.
Logan
Yeah.
Georgie
Ugh, why do you have to be so thoughtful and make me weepy while I’m serving lattes?
Logan
It’s a blessing and a curse.
Georgie
I have to close up in a few. Can we continue this conversation tonight?
Logan
I’ll be in our booth at five to pick you up.
Georgie
Can’t wait. <3
Logan
<))
I put the phone face down on my knee and watch South Carolina fill up the window—the rhythm of the road, the exit signs I know, the slight haze in the light from the farms, and the sensation of warmth low in my stomach as I get closer and closer to Georgie.