Long Ball(10)

My abuelita said she knew it was crazy to marry someone she’d just met, someone she’d barely known for a week, but she also knew he was The One. She thought her life was over during those two days he’d stayed away.

My abuelito had been a big playboy around town. He was infamous for chasing anything in a skirt. Half the town tried to convince her it was a terrible idea, but she didn’t listen. She was in love. And so was he. As soon as he said those vows, it was done. She was his one and only true flame.

They used to gross me out as a kid, all that kissing and giggling, but the older I grow, the more I know that’s exactly what I want. I won’t settle for less than that.

My mind pulls out of the sepia stained memories behind my eyes and rests back on the perfect blond who couldn’t get enough of me at the club. Was it love at first sight? Would this be our story to one day bore our grandkids with while they peel a million potatoes?

Another inning, another at-bat. I picture Shelbie in my mind, dancing on the edge of a fountain, laughing. It’s perfect, I think. My bat slices through the air, makes contact with the ball.

Yes, I think. Yes.

And then the crowd groans. It’s a pop fly, ending the inning. I haven’t been able to get on base all night. Despite the more logical part of my brain trying to take over, I can’t help but feel this is an omen.





3





I flip the phone over in my hand, trying to build resolve. This shouldn’t be so difficult, I know this, but I also don’t want to feel like I didn’t try. Quitting isn’t exactly part of my vocabulary. At least, quitting for no reason.

Love, like baseball, is more complicated than people think. It’s not just swinging a bat and throwing a ball. It’s not just connecting with someone you just met without even knowing them. Even my grandparents spent hours connecting before he proposed.

That’s just the thing—we need more time together. Determined, I finally hit the Send button and bounce on my heels, waiting for her to pick up.

“Please tell me this is my favorite Royal shortstop.” Her voice is light and flirty. “Otherwise, I’m going to be impossibly sad.”

“Depends, do you mind if your favorite Royal shortstop has an off day?” That game will haunt me forever. It’s not often that I don’t make it on base all game and rack up two throwing errors. Coach was pissed.

“Depends, does he plan on getting better next time?”

“Always. He always strives to play better.”

“Then absolutely.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence on the phone. I chug half a glass of water to get the cotton out of my mouth. “I was hoping I’d be able to see you again. Soon.”

“How perfect is your timing? I’m volunteering today with the Read to the Bus program downtown. I’m sure the kids would love to have a baseball player join them.”

A few of the guys have done Read to the Bus before and always loved it. They load up on a bus full of kids, read some books, and hang out. Doug says it’s his favorite part of playing for the Royals.

This would also be a great way to show off how great I am with kids. Shelbie’s volunteering for a great cause, which means she’s a wonderful person, right? I can show her how great I am, too, and we can use this as a springboard to our talk-for-hours-fall-in-love plan. Not that I’m planning. I’m just saying.

“I’d love to help out!” I say. “The guys talk about it all the time.”

“Great. We leave in an hour. Can you make it here?”

“For you? Absolutely.”

This will be perfect. What better way to connect with one another than over kids? I’ve always wanted a big family. Being in America while the rest of my family is in Venezuela is sort of problematic, but with Camila attending NYU and me in Kansas City, it’s easier to try to convince them to come up here. My dad isn’t a fan of the immigration laws, but he is a fan of being with family. And who wouldn’t love America?

An hour later, my nerves are jumping through hoops as I walk up to the bus stop to meet Shelbie. She’s gorgeous again in a sleek dress and floppy hat with oversized sunglasses. A little formal for my taste, making me wonder if we’re going to be filmed. It makes my palms sweat. I don’t need more fodder for the guys in the dugout, though with Kemp’s latest romp in lock-up, they may have something else to talk about for a while.

I offered to go with him to his press conference, but he passed. Sometimes, I think there’s more to him than he lets on, too.

She also makes me feel wildly underdressed, in jeans and a polo. How do women hike up and down those giant bus steps in heels that tall, anyway?

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite shortstop.” Her eyes light up when she sees me, and my nerves fade away.

“If it isn’t my favorite local TV personality.”

She curtsies with a beautiful grin. “Ready to read to some kids?”

“Absolutely. I used to love reading to my siblings when I was younger, so this should be a great flashback.”

“Aw.” She pouts her lower lip out a bit. “That’s so sweet!”

“Nah,” I pretend to wave it off. “Besides, it’s good practice for later, when I have my own kids. I’ve always wanted a big family.”