Whatever Life Throws at You

by Julie Cross

  I just need to convince him of this. And if he refuses to let me talk to Brody, then I need to convince him that he has to. Someone has to.

  It’s late evening by the time Dad gets home. The game was tied after the ninth inning, and it took three more innings for the Yankees to score another run and take the win. I’ve showered and cooked Dad’s favorite pasta for dinner. The table is set.

  “It smells good in here,” Dad says after walking into the kitchen. He smiles at me, but he looks exhausted. Shutting people out of your life who you have to see or hear about every day is exhausting.

  “Thanks.” I wait until we’re both seated and have our plates full of food before beginning the grown-up chat I have planned. “So…how’s Brody doing? He looked really sick during the game.”

  Dad keeps his eyes on the plate in front of him and shrugs. “The flu is going around the team. Lots of the pitchers are coming down with it.”

  “Yeah, but none of them had to play today.” When he doesn’t respond to that, I shift topics. “How come you didn’t mention that Brody got Rookie of the Year?”

  He finally looks at me, one eyebrow lifting. “I think you know why.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I set down my fork. “You know how you said that I would be really happy down the road if I decided not to…be with Brody?”

  “Annie,” Dad warns. “I’m not changing my mind, so if moping around and then turning into Suzie Homemaker is part of your plot to get me to rethink this, I can assure you that my opinions aren’t going to change.”

  “I haven’t been moping around!” I exhale and calm myself down. Yelling is a little too teenage girl, and I’m trying to not be that. In a week, I’ll be eighteen. A real adult. So it’s time to practice. “I’m not asking you to change your mind about that.” Not yet, anyway. “But I do think that what you’re doing to Brody is wrong. Have you even talked to him? Have you checked to see if he’s doing okay?”

  Dad rolls his eyes. “He’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “I’m glad you’re so sure of that.” I stare at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of guilt or remorse on his face, but he’s stone cold.

  “Is this some kind of teenage rebellion?” Dad challenges. “It’s that why you were so off in the race this morning? Are you really planning on ruining your future over a boy who probably would have run all over you?”

  “Dad, stop.” I close my eyes, fighting off the hurt. Why does he think I’m so impossible to love? Or Brody so incapable of loving? I know Brody never said he loved me, but we were right there hovering around it. It wasn’t meaningless. “You are not listening to me.”

  Dad gestures with one hand, giving me permission to continue, but I can tell he’d rather I didn’t.

  “I met his mom in Chicago—did you know that? She’s horrible. She won’t even acknowledge that her son might be a decent person. I gave her tickets to the game, but she didn’t come. He hasn’t seen her in years. He’s never seen his father…”

  “What’s your point, Annie?” The words are sharp, but it’s obvious some of this information has surprised Dad.

  “He hates everything about his past; he’s ashamed of it. And you were the only person who accepted him. He respected you. He needs you. I know you don’t really hate him, Dad.”

  He pushes away from the table and stands up so abruptly that I jump. “I’m done with this conversation. Brody is work. It’s none of your concern.”

  I look him right in the eyes. “It’s still Brody, Dad. He’s the same person he was when you first met him. And he doesn’t have anyone else but us.”

  For a second, I catch a flicker of guilt in Dad’s eyes, but then he shakes his head. “I’m not choosing him over my own damn daughter, Annie.”

  “Who says you have to choose?” But he’s already down the hall, walking toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  I lean my head against the table, my hands shaking from the built-up emotion. But I do feel a sense of resolve. Maybe I didn’t come right out and say this to Dad, but he has to know that if he’s not planning on being there for Brody, I’m sure as hell not going to leave him alone.

  Chapter 31

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  My stomach sinks. Brody looks even worse than he did on TV this afternoon. His useful shirtless-indoors look has been replaced with baggy sweatpants and a long-sleeve Royals T-shirt.

  And oh my God, how have I gone this many days without seeing him in person? I’m hit with a tidal wave of emotions—panic, excitement, fear…It’s all there and relevant.

  I ignore his suggestion and hold up the shopping bags in my hands. “These are really heavy. Maybe I can come in and set them down somewhere…?”

  I’m trying to be all cool and casual, but as I look at his face a little longer, I’m thinking about the last time we were together and about all the things I said to Dad earlier…And before I can stop myself, I’m dropping the bags in the hallway and pulling him closer, pressing my cheek against his shirt.

  Brody leans into me and sighs, his strong arms squeezing me like bands of steel, like he wanted to lock me in place and never let me go. “Does your dad know you’re here?”

  “Not exactly,” I admit, and then reluctantly pull away, snatching my bags off the floor. He’s sick enough to be a little slow today, and I duck under his arm and enter the apartment before he can stop me. “I’m not intentionally going behind his back.”

  “Really? ’Cause that’s what it sounds like.” Brody closes the door behind him and locks the deadbolt.

  “I gave him a proper warning. He won’t be surprised to find me here.”

  Brody walks across the apartment and then seems to get dizzy, because he stops and leans against the wall right beside his bedroom door. “I wish I could stand here and chat with you, but I’m not really up for it. And you should go, Annie. You’re going to get sick.”

  I carry the bags over to him and nudge him from behind until he starts walking toward his bed. “They have these things called flu shots. It’s this really advanced medical breakthrough…”

  He sits down on the side of his bed and flashes me a halfhearted smile. “I missed this. You pissing me off.” He holds my gaze. “I miss you.”

  My heart is breaking and piecing back together all at the same time. I want to go to him, hold him, reassure him that he’s not lost me forever, but I need to stick to my plan. First, get him well again so he can kick ass in the series… “I brought Gatorade and soup and Jell-O…and cold medicine.”

  After I place all the supplies on the nightstand beside Brody, he stretches out across the bed, pulling the thick blanket up to his neck. I sit beside him and try not to think about kissing him again. My head turns in his direction, but I keep a good two feet between our mouths. “Did I forget anything? Do you need anything else?”

  He fumbles around underneath the covers, finally pulling out his hand and lacing his fingers through mine. “Just you. This sucks. Everything sucks right now.”

  “I’m only staying a few minutes,” I blurt out before I change my mind. I’d forgotten how warm his hands are, how well they cover mine. “Give me some time. I’m gonna try and fix at least some of this mess, okay?”

  Brody closes his eyes, like they won’t stay open any longer. “He’s right. Jim is right. I’m not the kind of guy someone would want with his daughter. What kind of guy sneaks around and…” His voice fades away, but we both know the end of that sentence.

  The lump returns to my throat. I hate that Dad said that to him. “No. No way. He’s wrong. He knows he’s wrong. It’s just me— He doesn’t want me with anyone. And the way he found out…”

  Brody flinches. “God, I was such an idiot.”

  “We both kind of were. But I should have listened to you. We should have told him sooner. If we did it your way, we would have.” I rest my free hand on his forehead. It’s burning up. “You should get some rest.”

  Brody lays his fingers against my cheek. “If
I text you, will you answer?”

  I grip his fingers, keeping them on my skin. “Yeah, I will. I mean, I don’t really have a choice. If my dad isn’t going to talk to you, then it’s got to be me. You’re in a pennant race— you need moral support.”

  He smiles with his eyes closed. “You are absolutely right. I need moral support. And emoticons. Lots of them.”

  I lean forward and kiss his forehead. “Promise you’ll stay hydrated and call Savannah if you get worse? She’s a mom. She knows all kinds of sick-people things, probably way more than me.”

  I only hang around about fifteen more minutes before Brody is fast asleep. Even with him out cold, it’s hard to leave. I love him. That’s not something I can turn off just because Dad asked me to. And it isn’t just him I love, it’s his scent—something this apartment is engulfed in—his being around me, the texting, knowing that he’d come over if I were sick. Probably even during a pennant race without a flu shot. But none of those are the real reasons I came over tonight. I came because he needed someone. Even if he wasn’t willing to ask for help, he needed someone. That’s why I don’t care if Dad knows.

  I creep quietly out of Brody’s apartment, leaving the lamp on and locking the door behind me. I need to talk to Savannah now. And I can get her to check on Brody. Or Frank, maybe. I want Dad to trust me, so I do need to limit the home-nurse visits myself. Especially considering the fact that it took nearly all my self-control to not crawl under the covers with him.

  “Annie,” Savannah says after opening the door to her apartment. “What’s wrong?”

  I spot Lily at the dining room table in her pajamas with a full cup of hot chocolate. I look back at Savannah and keep my voice low. “Remember how you said you could have spun the Annie/Brody story to be positive…?”

  I’m literally wringing my hands, anticipating the rare, stern, yelling Savannah’s return. And really, it’s justified. I should have told her. She would have been professional about it on her end.

  She rests a hand on her hip, swinging the door open for me. “Just couldn’t stay away from each other, huh?”

  She’s trying to be sarcastic, I can tell, but I don’t miss the amusement in her voice. Maybe she knew all along we’d be back in this place. Maybe she’s just doing her job and dealing with what’s handed to her.

  She settles Lily down in front of the TV, warning her three times not to spill the hot chocolate, and then we both sit at her dining table.

  “This isn’t about dating,” I explain, and her eyebrows lift. “Not only about dating, anyway. My dad won’t even talk to Brody, won’t look at him. I went over to his apartment to check on him, and Dad should have done that.”

  She covers her face and groans. “Seriously, Annie?”

  “I only stayed a few minutes, and he was barely coherent.”

  She drops her hands. “He looked terrible during the game today. I felt so bad for him. It’s an off day tomorrow, so I’ll stop by and check on him.”

  “Good.” I nod. “So what should we do? You know my dad doesn’t really hate him. Should we force them into a room together until he comes to this conclusion himself?”

  Savannah stares at me for a long moment. “You two really are…you know, serious? It’s not just a temporary crush?”

  “I think so.” My cheeks warm, and I drop my gaze to my hands. “I know I’m serious, but I can only speak for myself. You can ask Brody what he is.”

  “You didn’t give Jim much of an opportunity to ease into the idea,” Savannah points out. “Maybe you tell your dad that dating is off the table right now.” I open my mouth to protest but she waves a hand for me to stop. “For now. And you give him some time, at least until the series is over, to get used to you talking to Brody again. And maybe he’ll follow suit. In the meantime, I’ll work on the story. Who knows, you might have him warmed to the idea before the season is over.”

  I doubt that, but whatever. I’ll take it. It’s way better having this plan than feeling all helpless and depressed like I was this morning.

  I stand up, preparing to leave, and another idea pops into my head. “Can Lenny and I go to New York with you and Lily next week?”

  “Oh,” Savannah says, mocking me. “You mean game four of the series when Brody will pitch again?”

  “Please,” I beg. “We’ll watch Lily for you, and you can go see the Empire State Building or whatever. We’ll sit with you and all that. Adult supervision. And we’ll do whatever you say…Well, I will. I can’t speak for Lenny.”

  She laughs and glances at Lily, who has a mouth full of cocoa but gives her mom two thumbs up.

  “It’s my birthday next week…”

  “Your eighteenth birthday,” she concedes. “Guess I can’t really say no. And we do have two doubles in our hotel room…” She narrows her eyes. “But you have to break the news to your dad.”

  “Got it.” I head for the door for real this time. “Thanks, Savannah.”

  She waves away the thank-you, saying, “Any time.”

  When I get home a few minutes later, I bust right into Dad’s room, flipping on the light. He must have been asleep because he sits up, looking confused.

  “I went to Brody’s apartment to drop off some soup. Nothing happened,” I blurt out. Dad’s mouth falls open, but I don’t let him get a word in. “I’m going to go along with your wishes partially, and I’m not going to date him. But you can’t keep me from talking to him. Or watching the games. He’s my friend, and I’m his. And I think he used to be your friend. So if you’re going to keep ignoring him, then I can’t do the same. I’m turning eighteen next week, in case you forgot, so it’s time you start thinking of me as an adult—capable of making adult decisions about my own life and who I love.”

  Dad scrubs his hands over his face. “Annie—”

  I hold up a hand to stop him again. “I don’t need to hear your thoughts again. I’m doing the right thing, and you know it.”

  I flip off the light switch, leaving him in the dark. “Also, I’m going to New York with Savannah next week to watch Brody play.”

  I’m out of his room fast and behind the safety of my locked bedroom door before he can protest. I might be bolder today, but I’m still shaking and not wanting to continue the confrontation.

  And I’m so not willing to be “just friends” with Brody indefinitely. We’re more than that. We will always be more than that. But all I can do is cross my fingers that Savannah is right. That Dad needs time to digest it slowly, in bits, with all clothing intact.

  Chapter 32

  ME: Feeling better?

  BRODY: Much

  ME: Good :)

  BRODY: Great, actually :)

  ME: Guess what?

  BRODY: You’re secretly twenty-one and we can elope in the off-season?

  ME: Ha! I’m coming to watch your game.

  BRODY: What game?! Tonight? In New York?

  ME: yep. I’m in NYC right now with Len and Savannah/Lily

  BRODY: :) :) :) thanks, Annie. This is a pretty awesome surprise

  ME: You’re welcome. Make it worth my time, all right?

  BRODY: whatever you want

  ME: good luck :)

  BRODY: Oh and Annie? Happy birthday. :)

  “If you want to get excited and squeal to everyone that’s your boyfriend, I won’t make fun of you,” Lenny says, elbowing me in the side.

  For only the second time in his career, Brody played starting pitcher today.

  Right before the game, our top starter dislocated his elbow. Unfortunately, I had to witness this and nearly puked when I got a glimpse of the out-of-place joint. The other starter was coming off four days in a row of pitching and Brody was fresher and more ready, so his name got pulled from the roster. To start in a championship game to decide if they go to the World Freaking Series…

  I thought my heart was going to stop when I saw him take the mound for the first time, but now it’s the top of the eighth inning and Jason Brody, rookie pitcher of
the year, is currently in the midst of a perfect game.

  The Yankees have managed to hit two of his pitches, but both were caught in the outfield. The Royals haven’t let anyone on base. And the score is 1-0.

  I hug Lily tighter on my lap, trying to keep both of us warm. Who knew October could be so damn cold?

  “Why is he doing this to us?” I whine to Savannah, seated beside me. “I can’t take this.”

  “I know. Me neither,” Savannah says, and Lenny nods her agreement from my other side.

  “I like when the umpire yells, ‘Strike!’” Lily says, mimicking the deep, firm voice. She repeats this a few more times while Brody gets ready on the mound to throw a real strike. Hopefully. “Look! I see ten and eleven innings on the scoreboard.”

  “Yep, but it’s the eighth inning now,” I remind her.

  Lily hops up and down on my lap. “Let’s have ten! That’s way better than nine, right, Annie?”

  “No!” Savannah and I both say together.

  The Royals have already gone further this season than they have in decades. But the further you get, the more you want. And I know the team, including Brody and Dad, and probably everyone in Kansas City, want that World Series spot.

  And now, we all want the perfect game. Thanks to Brody dangling it in front of our faces for this many innings.

  We’re right behind home plate, not more than ten or twelve rows up from the field. I’ve got a clear view of Brody adjusting the ball in his hand, breathing smoke from the cold air. Dad shifts his weight from his foot to his non-leg in the dugout. He hasn’t been home much since I chewed him out last Saturday, so I don’t know if he’s pissed off. He’s been texting updates and letting me know when he arrives places, but he still isn’t talking to Brody. And I know that for a fact because I am.

  “Come on, Brody,” Savannah whispers beside me, but I catch her looking at Dad, too, and not the pitcher.