The Trade(115)

I laugh and shrug. “It’s Jason. He’s a romantic and he’s also dramatic, there was no way of stopping him.”

And frankly, it was the most romantic proposal I ever witnessed. It was as if the Rebels fans dropped their machetes and destructive voices for a few minutes to take in real life on the field. Music played, the crowd cheered so loud I thought my eardrums were going to burst, and it was the perfect moment. Special and with a side of hope, just what the Rebels needed to start the season.

Joseph comes up to Dottie and me in his walker and sits on the attached seat. He wraps his arm around Dottie and says, “You’ll be my favorite sister.”

“Hey.” I laugh, loving that Joseph has the best sense of humor out of all of us.

“What?” he asks, his voice shaky but still clear. “She’s never given me shit like you have on a daily basis.”

“Given you shit? That’s called love, brother dearest.”

“Hell, you can take your love and shove it back up where it came from.”

Dottie laughs and says, “Pretty sure you’re my favorite Orson too.”

“Hard not to be with a face like this,” he says, framing his face. God, I love him.

The Rebels are up by five runs, Jason has gone two for three, and seems to have an extra pep in his step when running the bases, which seems odd for him since he’s the slowest runner I know. But then again, the love of his life just said yes to his proposal in front of a sold-out stadium. Of course he’s going to book it a little harder today.

And the crowd loves him. Absolutely adores Jason. Maybe it’s his quirky personality, or the fun preseason ads the team has been doing with him, but whatever it is, he’s won them over quickly, which makes me feel incredibly sad for Cory as he steps up to the plate.

“Number twenty-four, Cory Potter.” Some rock song plays but I can barely hear it over the collection of boos throughout the stadium. The hatred for him is so loud, that it causes my heart to seize in my chest.

“I don’t get it,” Joseph says. “He’s three for three today with two RBIs. They should be cheering for him.”

I couldn’t agree more, even though it feels like I’m being peeled like an onion from the sight of him, exposing every raw layer one after another. I was the distraction that once eradicated, was meant to improve the attention he received. To enable him to get his shit together. But why are they still giving him shit? Why? How has our break benefitted him?

Stepping into the batter’s box, he adjusts his hat, waves his bat to his shoulder and on the first pitch, he cracks the ball, sailing it over the right field wall. It happened in a matter of seconds. So quick that I blink to make sure he just hit a three-run homerun, because the boos don’t stop. There’s no cheering, there’s no celebration, only hatred filtering onto the field as Cory’s strong body rounds the bases, his head down, not showing an ounce of celebration, but instead, just going through the motions of his job.

The fan who caught the ball, throws it back on the field.

Cory crosses the plate and the boos grow louder.

I look at the TV screen in the suite we’re in and watch as he gets high fives from his teammates as he takes his helmet and batting gloves off and stuffs them back into his cubby.

No smile.

No excitement.

No emotion.

The announcers talk about Cory’s performance in spring training, how they think he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with, and the fans shouldn’t be booing. They should be cheering. They have the best first baseman in baseball on their team.

“Such a shame.” My mom comes up to me, hand on my shoulder, then pulls me into a hug.

“Shame that we broke up, or shame that he’s getting treated the way he is?”

“Both,” she says in a soft tone only a mother can master. “Have you spoken to him?”

I shake my head. “No. We exchanged curt nods in the dugout but that was it.” My lip trembles as I turn into my mom’s embrace. “I really think it’s over.”

“Oh honey.” My mom shifts me away from the field, deeper into the suite. “Did you have hope that maybe you would get back together?”

“Stupidly, yes,” I say, swiping at my eyes. “I just . . .” I let out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t expecting to fall in love so quickly and so hard, and losing Cory feels ten times more painful than my divorce from Ansel.”

“Well, you said it yourself that you two were drifting apart, finding that you had more in common when you were younger, so it makes sense that this loss of Cory is hitting you harder. It was unexpected, and it was real.”

“So real.” More tears well in my eyes.

“Then why don’t you talk to him, sweetie? Maybe he’s not reaching out to you because he’s nervous after everything that happened between you two.”

“I thought about that,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and looking out toward the field. “It’s why I went to the dugout, because not only did I want to support Jason and Dottie, but I wanted to gauge Cory’s reaction to seeing me.”

“And . . .” my mom urges.

“He couldn’t have been less interested, Mom. Not even a hint of excitement passed through his eyes.”

“Did he recognize you with your new hair?”