19. Chapter 18
Austin - The Present
I shove the rest of my clothes into the washer, and slam the door closed.
Dishes and laundry. The two worst parts of adulting, in my opinion.
I’m sure others consider cleaning toilets to be the worst part.
When it comes to laundry and dishes, I can never get the detergent amounts correct.
It’s either too little or too much. After hitting start, I plop into a kitchen chair.
I pick up my phone to access my handy little to-do list. I thumb in the passcode, the code I added as soon as I got home from that wreck of a New Years Eve party.
A notification to set up face ID pops up and I swipe it away. As much as that would make unlocking my phone easy, I don’t mind typing Raegan's name in numeric fashion to unlock my phone. And it gives me an excuse to think about her and, when I remember, to also say a little prayer for her too.
I put a little check mark next to do laundry in my list. As a responsible adult, I have to keep myself on track.
Life can’t be spent working out and playing baseball all day long.
Groceries have to be purchased, meals made, the house cleaned.
Thankfully, my apartment is small. My to-do list is on the phone, but I like to do the grocery list with pen and paper.
I snatch up that list and start planning my weekly menu.
My phone buzzes and jolts me from my meal planning. My general manager's name flashes on the screen.
“Hello, sir. What’s up?” It’s common to get a call from my agent, Adam, but a call from the general manager… I hope I’m not in trouble for anything. “I’ve got some news for you.” He chomps on his gum as he speaks.
“Good news? Bad news? Am I in trouble?”
My GM laughs. “No, no. Not in trouble.” His gum snaps loudly. “But I think you’ll think it’s good news.” He pauses and takes a big breath. “You’ve been traded.”
I lean back, pulling the front legs of my chair up off the floor.
My brows have got to be in my hairline. Traded?
Why? What does this mean for my future? I have no desire to move across the country.
And I don’t really want to head north. Maybe back to Texas, but that opens up a whole different can of feelings.
“So, where have I been traded to?” I rub my hand back and forth over the bridge of my nose.
“I know you grew up in Atlanta,” He pauses.
“But you always made it seem like Texas was or is home.” The sound of gum snapping takes over the phone’s speaker.
Then it stops. “You’re going back home! The Fort Worth Lariats have picked you up.
You’re going to their Double-A team, the Frisco Silver Spurs. ”
My palms are sweaty. Knees weak, arms are– nope.
My palms really are sweaty. My throat is dry, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Frisco is roughly two hours from Clear Creek.
I never went to any games while living in Texas, but everyone from Clear Creek would go to Lariat or Spurs games.
They’re the closest teams. And now I’ll be playing in Frisco.
I finally gulp down a breath of air. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
Am I in shock? I run my fingers over the kitchen table, a splinter snagging just under my fingernail.
How will I handle living that close to Raegan?
I could just go visit her. Do I call her and tell her I’m moving out there?
Obviously I’ll tell Mom and Izzy. I haven’t kept in touch with them like I should have.
When we do talk, we keep things simple. Raegan is never discussed, like that character in that one Disney movie about the magical house. We just don’t talk about her.
I could just refuse the transfer, right?
But that might smother my chances of being called up.
If the Lariats organization wants me enough to get me in a trade after the season has started, then I must be a hot commodity.
I have to go. Baseball is my life, going pro is my dream.
And if I have to face my past, and do hard things by moving to Texas, then so be it.
“So, how long before I need to report in?” I need to start a new to-do list. Get out of lease, find a moving company, tell Dad. And the list goes on and on.
“Your first game with them will be in four days, so you’ve got time to get things together. It’s all part of the game, boy. Being ready to go at any time. Let me get everything squared away and I’ll get Adam the contract and he’ll go over the particulars with you.”
I’m really doing this. Moving back to Texas. And now, I’ve got to figure out how to tell Dad, Mom, and maybe Coach.
The stadium buzzes with excitement. The usual enthusiasm crackles in the air, but there’s something else. Maybe it’s the thought of being home that has my nerves calmer than usual, and the smell of nachos and hotdogs don’t make me nauseous like they sometimes do.
I sink into my batting stance. It’s comforting and disconcerting all at the same time, being here. Knowing that Raegan is just a short drive away. That someone from Clear Creek could be here, watching my game.
I honestly figured I’d climb within the Warriors organization and spend the rest of my life in Atlanta. But, here I am. Batting in my first Silver Spurs game.
I called Mom the evening I found out about the trade. She was excited, but she doesn’t have any time off soon. They’ve been pushing her to the limit in her job there. I turn off my thoughts, and focus on the game.
I keep my eyes on the pitcher. Once he’s on the rubber and the pitch timer starts counting I turn my focus to the ball. One, Two, Three. I count as the pitcher shakes his head in response to the catcher’s calls. Finally he picks a pitch he wants to throw and readies himself.
The ball sneaks past me for a strike. It’s a sinker, my least favorite pitch. And I hate to admit that I am distracted by the crowd. It’s a full house, and I really want to know if Raegan is here.
I step out of the box, adjust my helmet, then step back in.
I find the perfect grip, then resume my stance and wait for the pitch.
The pitcher steps back onto the rubber and flips the ball around in his hand, places it into his glove, then takes it back out.
He’s nearly out of time on the pitch timer.
I’ve never had a pitcher not throw me the pitch in time.
But this pitch won’t be the one, because he finally winds up with three seconds left.
I swing my bat, catching just the edge of the ball, sending it off toward the Silver Spurs dugout. My chest deflates, and I blow out a raspberry. If I’d paid better attention I could’ve swung at the right time and gotten at least a base hit.
I step out and swing the bat around a few times, pull on my left pant leg to ease the itch by my knee.
Back in the box I rest the bat on my right shoulder.
The pitcher winds up again. The ball comes flying, it’s a curveball.
In a split second I decide, and I swing for the fences.
The force of my swing pulls me toward the field, and a burning sensation sizzles through my right shoulder.
A buzzing roars in my ears. I bite down on my lip. I missed the dang ball, and did something to my shoulder. I hang my head and walk back to the dugout.
The shade of the dugout feels good. I didn’t realize just how warm that hot Frisco evening sun was. I roll my right shoulder and rub it a few times.
“Y’all right there?” Josh, our catcher, turns from his spot on the fence. He catches sight of my hand on my shoulder and plops himself down next to me.
We’ve talked a few times but I honestly don’t really know any of the guys too well yet. Most of the guys have been here longer than I have, and he’s older than most of us. Not that I’m a great judge of character, but he seems like a guy I’d get along with.
“Yeah. Just a weird feeling as I swung the bat. But I’m still good to play.” I give him a thumbs up. Wild horses, or maybe even a bull or two won’t keep me from playing. They’ll have to trample me till I’m dust to keep me from setting foot in that batter’s box.
“It should get checked out by the team doctors. There’s no playing while injured here.” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
I stare down at the cement floor. It’s just a twinge, it’s not an injury. I’m going to be fine.
“Hopefully it’s just nothing, or maybe you need more time with the strength and conditioning coaches.” He lays a hand on my other shoulder. “They’ll work with you. Keep you in tip-top shape.”
I nod my thanks, not saying anything. I kind of just want him to leave me alone. My emotions have been all over the place today. But Josh leans back on the bench, stretching an arm behind me and sets his cap on his knee.
“So, you played in Atlanta before coming here?”
I nod, still silent.
“Did you grow up there? How do you like it here? Any trouble finding an apartment?” He finally pauses his barrage of questions, a sheepish smile playing across his features.
“Sorry if I’m being nosey. You just looked like you needed a friend.
And we’re a team, so we need to get to know each other.
” Everyone had been introduced during practice earlier in the day, but this is the first time that someone is sitting down and actually trying to get to know me.
“Umm, yeah. I grew up in Atlanta. The Warriors have always been my team. But here I am.” I laugh dryly.
“I did live here, in Texas, just for a short while. Never thought I’d be back though.
” Never thought I’d leave Raegan. Not like that, at least. And after I’d left, the thought of coming back had been like a swallow of sour milk.
“Well, if you’re up for it, you’re welcome to join Jared and I,” he motions toward the youngest guy on the team, his blonde curls poking out from under his ball cap, “for some milkshakes after. We don’t do it too often, since I like to head home to my wife, but we’d love to have you join us. ” He raises his voice, “Right, Jared.”