Chapter 11
Jordan
The sun is brutal, sending beads of sweat down my neck and soaking the collar of my jersey.
We're up five to three in the fifth inning, but the heat is getting to me, and the top of the Panthers lineup is due up to the plate. Lincoln throws a fastball right down the center, and their hitter makes easy contact. The crack of the bat sends a sharp grounder between second and short. Beauchamp dives a fraction of a second too late, and the ball gets past him. Rodriguez scoops it up and tosses it to second base as the batter rounds my bag. It’s a clean hit, but Beau’s slower than Mike was, and knowing that my previous shortstop would’ve fielded that without a problem has me more irritated than is probably healthy.
“Let’s pick up the pace out here,” I yell before spitting into the dirt, which earns me a glare from Lincoln.
The game continues, and we give up two more runs, which ties the score before the inning is over.
Normally, I’m a lot more even-tempered on the field, but I hate losing when I know the Carvers are in the stands.
Rodriguez is up first to bat for us, but he pops it up for an easy out.
Coach Johnson has me sandwiched in the lineup between Smithy and Beauchamp.
Smithy steps toward the batter’s box and takes another warm-up swing.
As I leave the dugout and head to the on-deck circle, I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.
“You’ve got this,” the rookie tries to encourage me.
I grunt and nod, but it takes everything in me not to turn around and shove the guy. He doesn’t deserve it. I know he’s trying to be nice, but his presence is so irritating.
It isn’t like me to let other people get under my skin like this, but it’s been three weeks since the wedding, which means it’s been three weeks since I’ve spoken to Shelley.
Even though I know I would make the same choice all over again today because nothing about our situation has changed, I can’t stop wishing I had stayed with her in the hotel that night.
I should call her. I told her we could be friends, but I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone.
Without even trying, she’s unleashed a cyclone of chaos inside me, and I can’t tell which way is up.
Smithy draws a walk and trots to first as I try to shake it off and approach the plate. But my head isn’t in the right place, and I swing too early for the first pitch and too late for the second.
“Let’s go, Wagner!” I hear the annoying young voice behind me, and I’m distracted as the pitch flies past.
“Strike three!” the umpire booms.
“Damn it.” I accept my fate with as much pride as I can muster and walk away, passing the rookie again on my way back. “Do me a favor and keep your mouth shut, would you?” I snap at him. Beauchamp smiles, which only pisses me off more.
“What was that about?” Rodriguez asks as I find my seat next to him.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass. You’re in a real mood lately.”
Beauchamp gets an RBI triple because of course he does. Then another hit sends him home to put us ahead by two more runs. He’s beaming when he rejoins us, and the guys reward him with high fives and congratulatory slaps. I force myself to tell him it was a nice hit, but I’m over this.
We manage to keep our lead and pull off the win, which makes Beauchamp the man of the hour in the locker room after the game.
“Nice one, Beau. You really helped us squeak that one out.” Lincoln nods.
“Yeah,” I echo, hoping it’s enough of an effort to keep me from looking like a total jackass. I don’t want my sour mood to affect the rest of the team.
“Who wants to celebrate?” Rodriguez asks. “It’s karaoke night.”
Several of our teammates respond with good-natured groans.
“I’ll go, but only if your guitar doesn’t,” Smithy tells him.
“Miller’s in town, and he says he’s in,” Lincoln adds, looking up from his phone.
Rodriguez pulls me aside, out of earshot from the rest of the guys. “So, are you ever going to tell Miller you’re into his sister? Gotta tell you, bro, I thought I was going to have to follow you around that wedding with a napkin to wipe the drool from your face every time you looked at Shelley.”
I have to give him credit, the dude is way more observant than you’d think. But I don’t want to get into it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
“That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”
“That’s how it is,” I insist, although the look on his face tells me he knows I’m full of shit. “I can’t make it tonight anyway. My old coach is in town and we’re meeting up for dinner. I need to head over to the restaurant.”
Rodriguez cups a hand on my shoulder and nods a quick goodbye. I finish stripping off my uniform and rush through a fast shower. I don’t want to keep the Carvers waiting.
◆◆◆
At the restaurant, the smell of grease and deep-fried seafood makes my stomach growl as I sit alone at a table, sipping a glass of ice water.
When Coach Carver walks into The Blue Crab, he looks the same as usual.
A few more grays have made their way to his temples, and his midsection is a little paunchier than when we first met, but I can always count on him to be wearing his typical dark polo shirt tucked into belted khaki shorts.
He finishes off the look with white socks hiked up high above his dad sneakers.
He holds the door open for his wife, and Ms. Ruth takes her time stepping over the threshold.
There’s a pale yellow sweater draped over her shoulders and a Tupperware container in her hands.
“Jordan, there’s my boy!” His voice booms through the small restaurant as he makes his way to our table.
“Hey, Coach. Thanks for coming.” I stand to greet him, and he wraps me in a tight hug.
Coach Carver was the kind of coach who took it upon himself to get involved in his players’ lives.
When he met me in my first year of high school, he knew Mom and I were struggling.
I’m sure it wasn’t hard to tell. But he saw how motivated I was and how much I wanted baseball to be my ticket out.
So, when he found out I was by myself most nights, Coach and Mrs. Carver started inviting me for dinner a few times a week.
By the time I was in my third year on his team, I spent more time at their house than my own.
Coach is the closest thing I’ve had to a dad for the past fourteen years. He still makes the four-hour drive to North Bay from Baltimore as often as he can to come to a Blue Crabs game or grab lunch with me during the off-season, and once a year he and Ms. Ruth come together for a whole week.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Ruthie and I booked four nights over at the Marnock hotel. We’re excited for the vacation.”
“Sure are.” Ms. Ruth smiles as she reaches up to hug me with one arm, holding her Tupperware in the other.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask, pointing to the square plastic container.
“Of course it is.” She smiles and pats my cheek.
Coach Carver shakes his head and says, “Take your damn cookies,” but there’s humor in his eyes as his wife hands them over.
I open the container and pop one in my mouth right away.
He chuckles as he slides into his seat. “As excited as I am to see you, kid, I might be even more excited to be back at The Blue Crab. I’m starving.”
This man will probably be calling me “kid” until I have the same gray hair and beer gut he’s sporting now. And I’ll happily let him. He picks up a menu and scans it thoroughly. I don’t know why he’s bothering to look because he orders the same thing every time we’re here.
“You getting the seafood club again?” I ask.
“You know it.”
When Regina comes over to take our order, Coach Carver asks her for the restaurant’s signature sandwich, and I order a crab cake. Ms. Ruth orders the soup. She catches me up on the latest news about their kids and grandkids.
“How was the big wedding?” Coach asks. “The new roommate working out?”
I nod. “So far, so good with Jake. The wedding was actually at his parents’ place.
” I take out my phone to show them a group shot of the wedding party while another picture forms in my brain.
I remember Shelley in her dress standing by the water, then later that night back at the hotel in her pajamas.
Frank must notice something in my face because he points at me and asks, “What’s that look? Something happen at the wedding you want to share with the class?”
I set my phone on the table. “Not really. It was a nice time.”
Ms. Ruth gives me a soft smile as she takes a sip of sweet tea. “I have a feeling there’s more to that story.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head.
Coach arches a brow and sets his elbows on the table, one open hand clasped over the other fist, resting his chin on both. They know I’m not telling them something, and I know them well enough to realize they’ll get it out of me eventually.
I sigh. “Fine. Maybe there’s a girl,” I mumble from behind my water glass, taking a big swig so I have somewhere to look besides their faces.
“Oh, yeah?” Coach prompts.
“I mean, she’s cool or whatever, but it ends there. She lives all the way in D.C. Plus, her brother is my friend. It’s too complicated to start anything.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t sound very complicated. D.C. is an easy day trip from here. And in my day, it was a good thing for a guy to know his sister was with someone he could trust.”
“I’m not sure Mike would see it that way.” I voice my concern and understanding crosses his brow.
Ms. Ruth peers at me thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this. Whatever is going on between you and this young lady, it looks good on you.”
When Regina returns and sets down our food, I thank her and pick up a fork to push my crabcake around the plate. They’re right. I haven’t felt this way since my only serious girlfriend, and they know how that worked out with Tiffany. She’s not here, is she?
I fell hard for my high school sweetheart, but my home life was too unstable.
Eventually she decided she couldn’t chance falling into the kind of life my family lived.
I still remember what Tiffany said the day she dumped me.
You’re a nice guy, Jordan. You really are.
But I need someone with a brighter future.
It gutted me, but even then, I understood.
The evidence was on her side. Now here I am, a full decade later, and my future’s still a crapshoot.
Shelley is smart and she’s driven. She’s going to be a lawyer.
I, on the other hand, barely managed to get through high school and I’m probably going to be out of a job in a few months.
Even if she has feelings for me, I’m sure they’ll fade fast as soon as she realizes I’ve got nothing to offer. That’s the way this goes.
My phone lights up with a new notification.
Shelley: Just had the Worst. Date. Ever. Not exaggerating. Worst one in the history of the world. God awful.
I’m hit with a queasy feeling that has nothing to do with the crab cake.
Shelley’s dating?
Then again, why wouldn’t she be? I told her outright nothing would ever happen between us and catapulted myself into the friend zone the first time she tried to touch me.
I hate this. And I did it to myself. I can’t blame anyone but me.
My face must do something stupid again while I stare at her message because Frank chuckles and points down at my screen. “You need to take that?”
“No, I’ll talk to her later.”
He nods. “I hope you do.”
The rest of the meal is pleasant, and it’s always great to spend time with the Carvers, but a small part of me is still worrying about Shelley.
She’s obviously fine. If it were anything serious, she’d call her family or even the police.
Not me. I’m sure she only wants to vent.
But knowing she’s upset at all doesn’t sit right with me, and I have a hard time forcing down my food. Exactly how bad was this date?
At the end of our meal, Frank tries to pay, like he always does, and he’s put-out to learn I was a step ahead of him and cleared the bill with Regina before they got here.
I’m grateful to be in a place where I can finally be the one treating them to a meal and at least pay back a tiny bit of their generosity.
As we stand to go, I thank them for visiting, and Ms. Ruth rests a hand on my arm. “We wouldn’t miss it. We look forward to this trip all year. Watching you play has always been such a treat for us. We’re proud of you, Jordan.”
I clear my throat and nod at her, not quite sure what to say. Her words are kind, but my gut sinks. Baseball is what connects me to the Carvers. When I’m no longer playing, how often will I see them?
She squeezes lightly. “Well, we better get back to our room. I need a nap after all the excitement of that game of yours. And you have a phone call to make.” She reaches out, and when I bend down to hug her, she whispers, “You deserve to be happy, Jordan. If this young lady can bring some more joy into your life, let her. Don’t talk yourself out of it. You do that sometimes, you know.”
I wave as they leave, then I head home, willing myself not to call Shelley too soon after getting her text. I don’t want to look desperate, but I need to hear her voice.