by Croft, Rose
Why in the fuck was she doing this to me? I tossed my broken phone aside moving over to the sofa dropping down, holding my head in my hands. This would be a bitter pill to take. And, she used the lines: It’s not you, it’s me and you deserve better. That was the worst, as if she really didn’t care that much for me to begin with.
The first week of being dumped sucked. I thought about her constantly and even worse—my game was suffering from it too. I couldn’t concentrate. I was going half-ass on my training routines and practices before games that made me a better player, and it showed on the field. Not to mention, I was just plain stinking up the field during game time. The players were on my hide after the third shitty game, my manager too. And I even had to hear it from my dad, and that also sucked ass.
Week two without Rose caused some of the guys, including Joey, to stage an intervention, after losing a game that we clearly should have won since we had a three-run lead going into the ninth. It was mainly my fault because I didn’t field an easy ball that should have been a double play. They decided to have a closed-door meeting in the clubhouse after the game, and we hashed it out.
They basically told me to pull my head out of my ass and stop being selfish. We were still in the running—just three games out of the lead with three weeks left. This was nut-cutting time, and our play had to be mistake-free if we wanted to give ourselves a shot to make the playoffs.
So, after the meeting, I refocused my efforts on the game, and my play improved. We were now two games behind rounding into the third week in September. We’d just returned home from the West Coast late but had the following day off. Since my sleep schedule was off, I wasn’t tired even though it was late.
I turned on my PS4, not having played it since Rose was here. Dammit, I still thought about her every fucking day and missed her so much. I mindlessly started playing my game hoping that I would get some kind of joy out of it. Video games were always my escape when I was upset or stressed.
In the middle of the game, I received a pop-up notification that she was online. And, without thinking, I invited her to play as if this was normal behavior. However, she didn’t accept and a few minutes later her status showed she was offline.
She wouldn’t even play PS4 with me? That was another cold body blow from her. Was she inhumane? Did she not care about me, about us at all? Again, I was making another rash decision. I grabbed my new phone—thankful the chip wasn’t destroyed, so I didn’t lose any information. I texted her: You won’t even play me on PS4???
Of course, I didn’t get a response. I should’ve known. Now, I was pissed because she really wasn’t going to talk to me. Grow some balls, John. I didn’t need this shit! I went through all of my pictures of her again. Jesus, she was so beautiful. Why did she end it like this? I jumped my own ass for being a lovesick dumbfuck.
By the end of Rose-free week three, we were within one game out of first place in the division. I was getting a little better about controlling my emotions when it came to her. I only thought about her fifty thousand times-a-day now instead of one hundred thousand. We had six games left.
At the end of the final week in September on Sunday, we were down to the last game of the season, still one game out. We had to win this for a chance at first place and hope that Baltimore, the division leader, lost. Fortunately, we won, but Baltimore won too, so we ended up in second place in our division. Since we had a better win record than most competitors in our league, we were one of the teams chosen to play a wild card game that would determine if we could play into the play offs. It was one game—winner moved on to a best of five series, and loser went home for the season.
Our wild card game was Tuesday night. We would fly to Dallas to play there, where my family lived, where Rose lived. I called Andrew.
“Hey, bro, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Good. So you’re playing here?”
“Yeah, you and Loren want to go? I’ve already talked to Mom and Dad.”
“Hell yeah we’ll be there.” There was a slight pause. “How are you doing?” He knew what happened between Rose and I. We’d talked. Of course, he probably would’ve known anyway from Loren.
“I’m doing all right. How’s Rose doing?” I had to know. Despite her ripping my heart out and smothering it with her stiletto heel, I still cared for her more than anything else at the moment.
“Loren says she’s very reserved and just buries herself in her work. In Loren’s mind that means she not very happy because she’s normally outgoing and sassy with her.”
“Well, then, I’m confused because she’s the one that dumped me.” I exhaled in frustration gripping the back of my neck. Why did she put us through this if she were miserable?
“You know about her former boyfriend, right?”
“Carlos? Yeah, she told me.”
“Loren said she had a really difficult time coping with his death which is understandable.”
“She told me she had issues, but never went into details,” I said, wishing she would’ve trusted me enough to talk about it.
“I’m pretty sure that’s true. You should try to talk to her.”
No shit, Captain Obvious. “I would love to, Andrew, but she won’t respond to my calls or texts.”
“Then, keep trying if that’s who you really want to be with.”
I would try. I didn’t know if that would do any good besides making me look like a crazy ex. However, I was miserable without her. And if I had to make a fool of myself to get her back, I was willing to do that at this point.
“I’ll work on that. Will you and Loren try to get her to the game?”
“I’ll try. I don’t know if it will do any good.”
“Okay, thanks, man.”
“When do you fly in?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
After we hung up, I called her. It rang several times before it went to voice mail. I decided to leave a message. “Hey Rose. It’s me, you know, John.” I cursed because she’d know who it was. “Anyway, uh, call me please. I miss you so much. I’m coming to town tomorrow. We play a wild card game Tuesday. I would like for you to come to the game. Just call me. I’m…” Beep, the message cut off. I was rambling like a moron.
Shit! I called again. She didn’t answer. I continued my message. “Uh, the damn voicemail cut me off before I could say that I’m miserable without you. Whatever issues you have, please talk to me, so I can help you. I can’t control what happened in the past, but I swear I would never cheat on you. You know my game has suffered because I couldn’t focus on anything but you…” Again, that beep sounded.
“Dammit!” I tossed my phone aside, and turned my game on. Thirty minutes later, she still hadn’t responded. However, I noticed she was online on PS4. I invited her to play. This time, she accepted.
“Rose?” I said after I put on the headset, she didn’t answer. Seconds later, a message popped up on the screen:
No talking, just playing.
I ok’d her. At least she was playing the game with me. That was a start. We played. And, she annihilated my ass 12–1. I messaged her on the game:
Good game. Rematch?
Rose: No. Going to bed.
Me: Ok. Please consider coming to my game. Night beautiful.
No response but, I set down the controller and smiled like a goofball at the flat screen. I’d actually had contact with her. It wasn’t much, and she definitely wasn’t engaging me in a conversation, but she missed me. She had to be thinking about me.
In the morning, I packed for my trip to Dallas. While preparing, I made a few phone calls. One was to Rose’s voice mail, again, telling her that I was about to head to the airport and should be in town around two in the afternoon. I continued to pretty much beg her to call me and come to my game. The other call was to a florist. As I was on the phone, I checked my laptop to make sure I had the right school because she’d told me where she worked, so I verified it by checking the school’s website, finding her name under the sta
ff directory.
As soon as we arrived at DFW, we loaded our charter bus and went to the stadium to get in some practice. After several hours, we showered, and went to the hotel. It was almost tortuous knowing that Rose lived about twenty-five minutes from here. I could get a ride to her place…I immediately shot that thought down. There was no way she would see me.
I still hadn’t heard from her. It wasn’t as if I expected to, really. However, I wondered if she’d received a delivery. If I asked her, she probably wouldn’t respond anyway. But that didn’t stop me from texting:
Hey. I’m in town at the hotel. Did you receive anything at work?
And, never heard anything back.
Can you come to the office when you have a break? You have a special delivery. Thanks, Mary
I checked the email from Mary, our receptionist. It was my lunch break, and I’d just finished my salad. I still had ten minutes left. I made my way down the hallway.
As I walked, I thought about John. He’d left two voicemails last night that almost made me break down and call him. I didn’t, but I shouldn’t have played the video game with him. Not only did it encourage him, but it also hammered the fact home that I was hopelessly in love with him.
Then, he’d left another voice mail this morning, telling me when he’d be in town. I didn’t know how much longer I could avoid him if he was going to keep pursuing me. I thought ending this was the right decision for me, but I sure as heck wasn’t feeling any better about myself. In fact, I missed him so much that I’d had to give myself daily self-interventions to keep from calling him.
Through the glass windows of the front office, I noticed a huge vase of beautiful pink roses, and a teddy bear.
“Wow, Miss Donahue, someone must really care for you,” Mary commented pointing at the display, as I passed through the office door.
I was speechless. Upon closer inspection there were at least four-dozen vibrant pink roses that turned reddish on the ends. And, the teddy bear wore a baseball jersey with number twenty-three and said McKeon on the back.
“Thanks, Mary.” I grabbed the vase, and the bear barely able to carry it. I noticed the card but would read it when I made it to class.
She smiled. “You’re rooting for the wrong team,” she teased pointing to the jersey on the bear.
“I know. This has always been my favorite team,” I retorted good-naturedly.
I had a few minutes before my next class period. In my classroom, I found a place for the vase and bear and pulled the card from the bouquet.
I stared at the card in disbelief with a stupid tear running down my face. He was pulling out the big guns, using the four-letter word that began with L. Why was he doing this to me? I loved the beautiful flowers and the damn bear, too. I held it to my chest for a moment, and gathered myself before my students began strolling in.
When it was time for my planning period, Tracy popped in my room to discuss tomorrow’s lesson. She immediately saw the roses and the bear. “Who sent you these? They’re beautiful.”
Before I could answer, she picked up the bear and studied the jersey and her eyes widened as though she’d solved a mystery. “Holy baseball bat, your friend is John McKeon?” She eyed me like I was an apparition.
I shrugged casually although I was a bundle of nerves. This was the last thing I needed having Tracy all up in my business. “How do you know who he is? I didn’t know you were a baseball fan.”
“I’m not. Well, not in a caring whose winning or losing way, but I don’t mind watching them in their uniforms. Besides, I subscribe to a men’s fitness magazine, and he was featured in it a few months ago. Good grief, Rose, he’s insanely hot.”
I know Tracy. I know. “Why do you subscribe to a men’s fitness magazine?”
By the look on her face, I’d obviously asked a stupid question in her mind. “Because of the features they do on good-looking, muscular men that are usually shirtless. You have to see this particular issue where they featured athletes naked. John had a three-page spread. Of course, his privates were concealed, but still… so sculpted with muscles bulging and…oh my God…” She flapped her hand in front of her fanning herself.
I nodded, tight-lipped, a little jealous that she had been ogling John’s pictures. Correction. A lot jealous.
“It’s kind of like soft-core porn, you know? I still have that article if you want me to show you,” she offered seriously.
“That’s okay, thanks.” Wait, maybe I should take it, and never give it back. The thought of her using John’s picture for her girl get-off time made me somewhat nauseous. Why do you care, Rose? John’s not yours anymore. “We’re not together.” I never elaborated on the trip to Chicago.
She dropped her chin and stared at me as if I were crazy. “Stop with the denials, Rose.”
“We went out a few times, but not anymore.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and clearly didn’t believe me. “Well, it seems like he wants to get back together.”
“Maybe.”
“Aren’t they playing here tomorrow for the big game or whatever? I saw them talking about it on the news.”
“Yes. He wants me to come to the game.”
“Aren’t you going?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“You’re not going?” She asked in disbelief. “Jeez, what’s your deal?”
I’m messed up, that’s my deal. I sighed in frustration. “Tracy…It’s complicated.”
“What’s so complicated about this? Hello? Hot baseball guy seems to really be into you, calls and texts you, flies you to Chicago, and sends you flowers.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Like what?” She was still watching me with an incredulous look on her face.
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. And, I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this please.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I know you think I can’t keep a secret to save my life, but I consider you a good friend. I would never tell anyone your business. You know that. If you ever want to talk, you know where I am.”
“Thanks Tracy.”
When I arrived at my apartment around six, I received a text from John asking if I’d received his gifts. I laid my phone down on the counter and made something to eat.
As I ate, I watched the MLB network hearing the analysts discuss the upcoming wild card games. They showed footage of Chicago practicing at the stadium here earlier this afternoon. There were a few interviews with some of the players; John was one of them.
Of course, I stared and studied his face as he spoke. As usual, he was very soft spoken and thoughtful whenever he answered questions from reporters, the complete opposite of his demeanor during the game. And, he was so heartbreakingly gorgeous in his baseball cap and dry-fit workout clothes. They asked him if he had a lot of family and friends coming to the game since he was in his hometown. He acted like the boy next door with his aw shucks attitude, only nodding and saying he thought so. Damn his hot humble-acting ass.
After the clip, the analysts broke down his game and showed highlights of his play throughout the season. Furthermore, they discussed the dip in his play earlier this month, right after the time I’d left Chicago. I’d seen those games, too. Even though we were apart, I couldn’t stop myself from watching him play and catching up on highlights when I had the chance. It was very apparent he’d played poorly that first week and a half after we’d ended it. However, he seemed to bounce back from his slump and finished the regular season strongly.
My cell was ringing, so I retrieved my phone. It was Loren.
“Hello.”
“What’s up, Rosie?” She asked pleasantly. We’d been talking all month, and she was the only one that I shared any info on John and I.
“I’m doing well.”
“That’s good. You know John’s here, right? I mean in town, not here with me.”
“Yes, I know.” Did John put her up to calling
me?
“We’re going to the game tomorrow. He wants you to be there. Have you talked to him?”
“He left me a message.”
“Yeah, he said he’s called and texted you several times, and you won’t respond,” Loren said.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to talk to him right now.”
“He also said he sent you something at work and wants to know if you got it.”
“What are you, Loren? Our mediator?” I said partly in jest, but it was also kind of annoying.
“No, but he’s really torn up over you Rose, and you won’t speak to him.”
“Yes, I received the roses and bear at work.”
“Why don’t you go to the game with us tomorrow? I know you’re not happy right now either.”
“I don’t think I can see him. It just hurts too much to let him back in.” Didn’t my best friend understand? Why was she pushing for this so hard?
“But you’re hurting without him,” she argued.
“Loren, I love you like a sister, you know that. I know you have my best interest in mind. However, you are too close to this situation. I mean, you’ll probably be John’s sister-in-law soon, so I know there’s kind of a conflict of interests here.”
“Right now, I only care about your well-being. I will always be on your side. Of course, I care for John dearly, too, but it’s more than that. I’ve seen you two together. If any couple was meant to be together, it’s you two.” She sighed. “Rose I just want you to find happiness, that’s all.”
I shook my head and smiled at Loren’s romanticized point of view. “There’s more to our relationship than us just being compatible. You know my issues, Loren. You know what I went through so long ago, and the stupidest thing I could’ve done was jump into a relationship with a professional baseball player who has girls falling all over themselves to be near him.”