Long Ball(12)

My reading is shit and poetry is awkward, but I channel my younger self, from all those years ago, and pretend I’m reading to my little sister. I even read the poems in English and in Spanish, despite the translation taking a bit of extra time.

Meanwhile, I make a mental note to go buy a f*ck ton of books in Spanish and donate them to the program. They have many, but they need more. Always more. Maybe my mom can send me some books from Venezuela, too.

After we finish the Pat Mora book, I pull out every book in Spanish they’ve got and read those. I use stupid voices. I made stupid faces. At one point, I jump around the bus like a gorilla. Shelbie disappears into the background and all I can see is the little girl on the front row with her beautiful mother.

What would my life be like if I never came to the United States? What if I stayed in Venezuela, took over the family business, found a nice local girl and raised a huge family? What if, instead of throwing balls, I threw chicken feed?

My mind is flooded with what-ifs. It doesn’t help that, with every book, this little girl in the pigtails inches closer and closer to me, until she’s in my lap. The feeling that floods me is indescribable as her tiny hands broach my lap and she climbs in. I don’t miss a beat while reading, but I can feel my cheeks burn from the smiling. I can feel my hands hold her tight while turning pages. I can feel my desire to leave this bus and let this afternoon end completely disappear.

Did I make a mistake? Did I come here too soon? Did I search for happiness, only to realize I was looking in the wrong places?

I finish the books and someone else takes over. The little girl takes my hand and hauls me to her seat, so I can stay with her.

“I’m so sorry,” her mother whispers. “She doesn’t usually do this!”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all!” I whisper back, still holding the little girl in my lap. “She’s beautiful. Reminds me of my sister, so it’s my pleasure.”

“You’re too kind.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Kate.”

“Jamie.” I say, and immediately feel dumb. Of course I’m Jaime. They introduced me at the beginning. “I’m not an idiot, I promise.”

Kate laughs quietly. “Never thought you were. I loved that you translated all those poems for the kids. I couldn’t understand any of it, but it was beautiful to listen to.”

“Gracias.” I can feel myself grinning like a fool. “It’s a beautiful language. Unless I’m in the clubhouse, I don’t have much excuse to use it anymore. I’ve become painfully Americanized.”

“Is that a bad thing, though?” She bats her lashes at me and a familiar rise runs through me.

“If it means I’m closer to people like you two? Not at all.”

The little girl turns around, puts her hands on my cheeks, and whispers, “I’m Cora.”

“Hi, Cora.” I whisper back. “How old are you?”

“I’m five.” She looks very intently at me. “Are you seven?”

Kate stifles a giggle and I fight to keep my face straight. “Do I look seven?” I ask.

She looks at me for a moment, like she’s analyzing me, and finally says, “You look eight.”

“Very good!” I can’t help but laugh a little, quietly. “You’re very smart.”

“My mom says I’m the smartest ever.”

“Does she now?” I look at Kate, who instantly shakes her head and holds up her hands.

“I’m just the babysitter.” Kate whispers back. “Aunt. Babysitter. Whatever. Me and Cora are BFFs, though.”

They fist bump and I feel myself slowly falling in love with these two beautiful girls. Again, my future in Venezuela populates in my mind. It’s not impossible to have a family in the majors. Plenty of guys do.

Plenty of guys never see their kids or end up divorced quick, which huge child support settlements, too. One hundred and sixty-two games a year is a lot, and only around half at home, makes it hard to maintain a solid family life. Nothing like what I had with my parents.

Is it worth it?

Right now, I’m not so sure.

My shoulders start to twitch, like someone is watching me. Not unlikely, with so many kids, but I glance around and find Shelbie staring at me, lips pressed thinly together. I smile brightly at her and give a thumbs up, because this was the best idea ever, and she sends a very fake looking smile back my way.

Probably because there is a news reporter snapping photos everywhere. Guilt trickles through my, but I wasn’t really flirting. Not really. I’m South American, we’re all a little flirty. Or something.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and instead focus on the small girl in my lap. I’m just here for the kids, after all. Kate sits quietly next to me, trying to coax Cora over to her lap, but she’s cemented to me, refusing to go anywhere.

But then the next stop rolls around, and Kate smiles apologetically as she gathers her things. “You were so kind to us, Jamie. I can’t thank you enough. Cora never knew her father, so this is always such a wonderful thing for her She’s so attached to you that it’s sweet. Will you come back and do this again?”

“Absolutely.” I don’t even have to think about it. I hope I’ll run into Cora every time, but even if I don’t, it would be such a joy to spend time with these kids.