Heart of the Game

by Rachel Spangler

  Duke finally turned to face Molly. “Oh yeah? Instant replay of last night’s highlight reel?”

  “And then some,” Molly confirmed.

  A subtle blush spread across Duke’s cheeks, and Molly suspected it had little to do with the heat of the sinking September sun. “You sure do know how to make me question my priorities.”

  “Does that mean you’ll make it home a little earlier than originally planned?”

  “Sorry, no can do. For the first time in weeks I have something worth writing about. I have to seize the momentum,” Duke said, then nudging Molly, added, “but I promise not to exert all my energy on the ole keyboard. You and I can go a few extra innings when I get home.”

  Molly shook her head. She’d already overlooked a lot in order to feed her libido. She still hadn’t brought up Chicago. She let Duke’s forgetting to come see her today slide. She’d said nothing about Joe’s attitude problems, and she’d been more than understanding about Duke’s crazy schedule, but she refused to become a post-game booty call. “I plan to be asleep before midnight.”

  “Will you be able to come to my baseball game tomorrow morning?” Joe asked.

  “Of course, buddy. I even got someone to cover my pre-game report so I can stay the whole time.”

  Molly stared at her, wide-eyed. Did she really say she’d rather work on supplemental stories than spare even a few minutes of time for Molly, but she could casually get someone to cover one of her primary job responsibilities in order to go to a child’s baseball game?

  “I better get back up to the booth,” Duke said, oblivious to Molly’s rising frustration.

  “Already?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah. I need to stay focused. We’re on a winning steak.”

  “And you never mess with a streak,” Joe finished for her.

  “That’s my boy,” Duke said with a tap on his cap. Then she turned to Molly and gave her hand a little squeeze. “And you’re my girl.”

  The old defenses she’d let go of tried to rise again. She was not some little lady sitting in the stands to support her man or her butch or whatever Duke was to her.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting home, but if the Cardinals win, you shouldn’t wait up past midnight for me,” Duke said as she turned to go.

  “I won’t be waiting up either way.”

  Duke froze in mid-step. Either the words or their cold delivery was enough to make her turn around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not a groupie, or the baseball equivalent.” She lowered her voice. “My love life will not be dictated by the Cardinals’ win / loss record.”

  Duke’s face flamed red. “Where is this coming from?”

  “From you being gone for two weeks, then buzzing in like you never left. It’s about you being nonchalant about everything that doesn’t involve a bat and a ball. It’s about my son refusing to do his homework because you told him ‘you win some, you lose some,’ and he believed you.”

  “And you thought a crowded stadium with…” Duke nodded to the back of the boy’s heads, “sitting right there while I’m at work, in the middle of a pennant race, would be the time to discuss this?”

  “Of course not, but when else do we have? You leave before I get home, you won’t come by the restaurant, you can’t even tell me when you’ll get in after work.”

  She rubbed her face. “You don’t get it at all, do you?”

  “What don’t I get?”

  “You sound like I’m carousing in the bars or chasing skirts till all hours. I’m working my tail off. This is what I do for a living, and I’m proud of doing my job well. I studied and worked and put in horrendous hours for over a decade to get where I am right now. I’m proving every sexist, bigoted, good ole boy who ever doubted me wrong, and I love it.”

  “Maybe I don’t get your single-minded focus. I’ve never had the luxury of doing one thing to the exclusion of everything else, so maybe there are some things I don’t get.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stem the headache starting to throb there. “But apparently I’m not the only one, because there are some things you don’t get, either.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you focus so much on trying to keep up your winning streak in one area of your life, you tend to lose them in others.”

  “Molly…” Duke said, then bit her lip.

  “No, don’t bother. That’s how it goes for you. Right now the Cardinals are winning more than they lose, but the same can’t be said for you and me.” Molly shook her head as sadness settled across her slumping shoulders. “That’s a trade you’re willing to make, so get back to work, but you should know I can’t brush those losses off as easily as you do.”

  *

  Molly heard Duke, first in the hallway, then in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Then her footsteps got closer, and the door made a soft swoosh across the bedroom carpet. When the rustle of her shirt hit the floor, Molly tried to stifle the desire to feel Duke’s bare skin against hers. Still, she listened for the soft jangle of her belt buckle unclasp and wondered if she’d left her boxers on or removed them with her khakis. She wished she really were asleep.

  The mattress gave slightly as Duke slid in next to her, but she stayed facing the other way. It didn’t matter how good it felt to have her body, warm and soft, behind her. She hadn’t let go of her anger yet. It didn’t help that, once again, she found herself listening to Duke slipping quietly into bed at one in the morning. Duke knew Molly was upset, that she wanted to talk, but she still hadn’t made it home until more than three hours after the game ended.

  “Hey,” Duke whispered.

  Molly rolled her eyes in the dark. Great opening line.

  “Come on, Mol, I know you’re awake.”

  Keep trying, sportswriter.

  “Look, I’m not going to apologize for doing my job, but I am sorry for the strain my hours are putting on our relationship.”

  She rolled onto her back. “Well, that was a classic non-apology.”

  “Oh good, you’re speaking to me.”

  It was dark enough that she could only make out the outline of Duke’s face, but she was clearly smiling. She could hear it in her voice, the lighthearted tone that so casually brushed off every concern Molly tried to raise. The good-natured approach became less and less effective every time she used it. They had some very real problems, and joking about them only went so far to ease the tension.

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” Duke asked, snuggling closer and throwing an arm around Molly’s stomach.

  “Make light of this.”

  “I’m not really sure what this is. I thought things were going well. I’m happy, the boys seem happy.”

  “And the Cardinals are winning again.”

  “Yeah,” Duke admitted. “That matters to me.”

  “What about the fact that you and I haven’t had a legitimate conversation in the light of day without little ears around in more than two weeks? Does that matter to you?”

  “Things have been a little busy.”

  “A little?”

  “My job requires a lot of travel. I have never lied to you about my hours either.”

  “No, but you also said you were all in on this relationship. You said we were a team, and it doesn’t feel that way.”

  Duke pulled her away and her voice softened. “I’m sorry if you doubt my commitment to you and the boys. I’m trying to be good for them, and you, but I’ve never done this before.”

  “I know.” Molly had never done this successfully either. Did she have unrealistic expectations? God, was she being unreasonable? “And you are good with the kids, it just feels like we’re in a joint custody agreement instead of a new relationship. You have them while I work, I have them while you work, and you and I never have any time alone together.”

  “Our schedules aren’t ideal.”

  “That’s a pretty big understatement, but I
’m not sure it’s just the schedules causing the problem.” She sat up and pulled her knee to her chest. “I’m worried it’s the values behind them.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, everything I do, everything in my life is centered around my family. Work is something I do to make a better life for them. Yes, I want to do my job well and I’m trying to move up, but I’m only really putting in the extra hours for the promotion because of what it will allow me to do for the boys.”

  Duke frowned, her brow furrowing before she shook her head. “I wish you loved your job, but I can’t feel guilty about loving mine because you don’t feel the same way.”

  The frustration bubbled up again, tightening her chest and pushing at her temples. Why didn’t Duke get it? Why was she the only one trying to understand here? She worked so hard to respect the things that mattered to her, but she wasn’t getting the same effort in return. She didn’t want to be the only one in this relationship; she didn’t want to be the only one trying. What if Duke didn’t really feel the same way? Was she just setting herself up for another fall?

  No, she fought the urge to disengage. They had to learn to work through things together. They had to communicate. “I am not asking you to feel guilty about loving baseball. I am asking you to create a little more space in your life for us, though.”

  “I’m here now.”

  “At one o’clock in the morning?” She sounded harsher than she’d meant to, but damn it, they were going around in circles with diminishing returns. “Where were you at three o’clock when you said you’d come by the restaurant? Where were you when I put the kids to bed? Where were you at midnight, long after the game ended?”

  “Work, work, and work.” Duke snapped back. “I was at work. I don’t ask you where you were at eleven, twelve, and one today. I don’t fault you for working when I’m home.”

  “And I am not faulting you for doing your job. During game time, you belong to the Cardinals. I get that. Batting practice and press conferences, too. Road trips and travel days have first dibs as well, as hard as they are on all of us. I understand that your job takes a lot of time and energy. I’m talking about the extra hours, the going in early and staying late. The supplemental stories.”

  “We’re in a pennant race. It’s my first year on the job, and I am the only woman at this level in my entire field. Don’t you get what kind of pressure I’m under?”

  “It’s always something, Duke. You had to work extra hard when they were losing. You called it extraordinary circumstances in Chicago, now you have to put in overtime when they win, too. There’s always something more important than us, and I’m afraid there always will be.” There, she’d said it—the thought she’d been dancing around for weeks.

  “Mol,” Duke whispered. “That’s not true. Nothing is more important to me than you and the boys.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you give your attention to everyone and everything else ahead of me. Everything else comes first, and I get the parts of you that are left over at the end of the day.” Her chest trembled, and it came out in her voice. “And I’m not going to beg, Duke. I spent too much of my life depending on other people’s approval, and I worked hard to break free. I shouldn’t have to plead with you to want to be with me.”

  “It’s not like that between us.”

  “It is, that’s what I’m telling you right now. I have worked so hard to be patient and understanding, but nothing is changing and I’m done waiting for you to throw me some scraps of your attention. I lived alone for years, yet I never felt as lonely as I have the past two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry, Molly,” Duke said, her voice so soft and close. “I don’t ever want you to feel lonely because of me. I don’t ever want to let you down.” Duke wrapped her arm around her shoulder and eased her closer, until her chest rested against the bare skin of Duke’s chest.

  “I’m not sure you can help it,” Molly said weakly, her resolve fading as the distance between their bodies disappeared.

  “I can. I can do better for you. I will do better.”

  Even as she said it, Molly could hear the doubt in her voice. “You say that now, but what about tomorrow when a new story breaks? Will we have the same argument again? Because I’m tired of going around and around.”

  “No,” Duke whispered and kissed her forehead. “I can’t promise to be perfect, but I do promise to be better. Please don’t be mad at me anymore. I can’t stand disappointing you.”

  Molly inhaled a deep breath filled with Duke’s scent and pressed her lips to the skin above her heart. The fear and the doubt still pulsed below the surface, but they no longer drove her—at least not as much as the desire to revel in the closeness she’d craved all day. “I’m not mad at you. I can never stay mad at you.”

  “Good, that means you have to give me another chance.”

  “I guess so.” Though she wasn’t as happy about that as Duke sounded.

  “I’m going to get it right this time.”

  The day’s worth of frustration and anger faded, leaving a void for exhaustion to numb her mind and weigh on her muscles. She snuggled closer, giving into the need to touch, and feel, and believe. “I hope so, because I’m not sure how many more losses we can take.”

  Top of the Eighth

  There Is No “I” in “Team”

  “I thought the Mets were going to blow it open in the sixth inning when they had two on and nobody out,” Joe said between bites of his cereal.

  “They should have,” Duke said. “If Benton Rollins would’ve laid down a bunt, they could’ve advanced both runners. Then they would’ve needed only a long fly ball to tie the game. I’m almost certain the bunt sign was on.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The coaches flashed a bunch of signs, and when he swung, they all looked confused, then angry. He also got pulled into the tunnel after the at bat. It could’ve been nothing, but I think he got a talking-to.”

  “Maybe he missed the sign,” Joe said.

  “Possibly. I try to never judge someone without knowing the facts, but I think Rollins was thinking about himself and only himself right there.”

  “Like his own stats?”

  “Yes, and his own wallet. He has all sorts of bonuses in his contract that only kick in if he gets one hundred hits or keeps his batting average above three hundred.”

  “But his team can still get a wildcard spot if they win.”

  “That matters only if you actually care about the team more than you care about your personal stats, and he’d rather pad his résumé than help his team win. Sadly it’s a common attitude, but it disrespects the game and everyone around him. He thinks he’s more important than the game itself.”

  “No one can be bigger than the game,” Joe said, “not even a superstar.”

  “And there’s no ‘I’ in ‘team,’” Duke added. “The whole only works if each member is dedicated to the others. Which reminds me, I’m taking you and Charlie to school this morning.”

  “You are?” Molly asked, finally looking up from the accounting books she studied at the other end of the table.

  Duke rose and collected all the breakfast dishes. “You have a big interview this morning, and your whole team is going to help you get the W, which means we’ll get out of your hair and help you focus on whatever you need to do to get ready.”

  Molly smiled as broadly as if Duke had said she was taking her to Paris. She must be more stressed out about the morning than she let on. Molly had kept quiet about the prospect of the promotion in front of the boys, but it would be a big deal for her. As the daytime manager, she’d have more job security and greater control over her schedule than she did as a waitress. Better pay, too. Molly had already done the books for a few months, and she’d been at the restaurant for years, so she should be a clear favorite for the job, but she didn’t take anything for granted. She’d studied everything from restaurant trends to accounting practices for
two weeks. Still, whenever Duke asked questions, she tried to play it off.

  Maybe Molly didn’t want to jinx the promotion by acting overconfident, but Duke worried Molly’s history of being disappointed made her leery of admitting how much she wanted something for fear of being let down again. Things had gone wrong so often in her life. She hadn’t learned to trust in things she couldn’t control, and as much as Duke wanted to change that, she couldn’t do it overnight. Still, she could lift a couple little things off Molly’s plate occasionally, and today those little things happened to be named Joe and Charlie.

  “Guys,” she said, pulling both boys into a huddle. “Today Mom’s our starting pitcher, and she’s walking up to the mound for a big game. We need to back her up like a team of all-stars.”

  “Okay,” Joe said.

  “’Kay,” Charlie echoed.

  “Joe, I need you to get Charlie’s shoes on, then both of you get your backpacks. Got it, team?”

  “Got it,” they said in unison.

  “I’m going to get your lunch boxes, then we’re going to line up, shortest to tallest, to kiss your mom good-bye before we march out the door.” She looked them both in the eyes. Joe looked intense. The kid was a gamer no matter what the game. Charlie, on the other hand, was, well, Charlie. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused. She wondered briefly if he’d gotten enough sleep, but then shook off the thought because there wasn’t any amount of sleep in the world to provide the energy Charlie needed to be himself on a daily basis. “Hands in, boys.”

  She put her hand out in front of them. Charlie put his little warm palm on top, then Joe covered it with his own. “Team on three.”

  They all counted together. “One, two, three, team!” Then they broke off in separate directions. Within five minutes, Duke kissed Molly good-bye.

  “Thank you,” Molly said. “This means a lot to me.”

  “Then it means a lot to me, too.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” Molly kissed her again, then, before she had the chance to lose her focus, nudged Duke out the door.