Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Yeah?”

  I nod and we both lean closer for a kiss.

  ***

  The waiting room to Dr. Jones’ office is right out of a damn sitcom.

  Three-month-old magazines sit in thick piles on each corner table. Rows of abused chairs line the walls. Posters of growing bellies and pregnancy symptoms tell me what I should expect and when. And to think, I could have gone my entire life without knowing what lanugo is.

  Hunter snatched the first Sports Illuminated he could find and has had his face buried in it since the moment we sat down. Me? I can’t stop staring at the woman across the lobby. She’s huge — going on month eight, if this poster above me is to be believed — and she’s wrestling with two other kids at her ankles.

  “Sammy, don’t do that. Give it back to your brother— Jordan, knock that off.”

  Hunter doesn’t even look up from the magazine.

  “Don’t throw that, Sammy. Ugh!”

  A small ball rolls across the lobby in our direction and taps against Hunter’s foot. He finally looks up and leans down to grab it as Sammy rushes towards us to retrieve it.

  Hunter smiles at the little baseball in his hand and holds it out on his fingertips.

  The child stops in front of him, hesitant to take it, so Hunter pushes it a little closer.

  I glance between them. They maintain eye contact with each other, never flinching with fear or impatience. For a second, I wonder if the kid recognizes him but that can’t be it. It’s almost as if they just understand each other without having to say a word.

  Sammy grabs the ball and takes off back to his mother.

  Hunter looks at me and shrugs. “Kids.”

  I turn forward and sigh.

  “Daisy?”

  A girl in pink scrubs pokes her head out of an open doorway and waves at us. “Come on back!”

  I stand up to follow her and Hunter does the same, staying a step behind me the whole time. I glance over my shoulder at him and notice him throw a quick wave to the little boys across the room before we disappear into the hallway.

  “I’m Stacy,” the girl coos, “Dr. Jones’ assistant. I’m just going to take a few stats from you and then we’ll toss you into the ultrasound room where you’ll get to know your baby a little more! Is this your first ultrasound?”

  I stay a few paces away from her peppy stride. “No, I had one at six weeks.”

  “God, I just love ultrasounds!” she says, spinning around. She halts so fast I nearly trip with the change in momentum. “Okay, hop up on the scale for me, Daisy. Daisy, I just love that name.”

  “Thank you…” I say. I step on and Stacy slides out the top piece to measure my height.

  “And you must be Hunter.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  “Such adorable names in your family!”

  We both make eye contact for a quick moment. Family.

  “Well, if you think that’s adorable,” I say, thinking fast, “I have a twin sister named Rose.”

  Stacy’s mouth drops. “Oh, my god! No pressure or anything but this baby is gonna need a name to top that.”

  She slides the metal pieces of the scale so quickly that I miss the numbers. Good. I don’t really want to know my weight is right now.

  “So, how far along are you?” she asks.

  “Uh…” I pause to count, “four months, almost?”

  The girl squeals. “You’re entering your second trimester,” she says. “That’s when the magic happens!”

  “Magic?”

  “It starts to grow and move around in there.” She whips a string of measuring tape out of her pocket and slides it around my waist. “Some women say it doesn’t even become real until then.”

  I let out a soft chuckle. “Okay…”

  “How long have you two been married?”

  My neck twists towards Hunter. “Oh, no. We’re not…” I shake my head. “Not married.”

  Stacy continues unfazed, jotting down a note on her clipboard. “Have you talked adorable names yet?”

  Again, another glance at Hunter. His eyes shift in his skull before finally bolting to the floor.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Are you guys hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  I don’t look at him. “We haven’t talked about it, actually…”

  Stacy smiles. “Have you two met each other?”

  We laugh, awkwardly.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  She shrugs her little shoulders. “Well, there’s still plenty of time for that stuff. For now, just enjoy it! Pregnancy is beautiful!”

  “Okay…”

  “Come on.” She twists around again. “Let’s draw some blood!”

  I linger behind with Hunter. “Would you judge me if I escaped out the bathroom window?” I ask him.

  He nudges my arm and smiles, pushing me to follow her and we walk down the hall together.

  ***

  Luckily, Stacy’s pep hasn’t rubbed off on Dr. Amanda Jones.

  Jones is older with tough, broad shoulders and soft, comforting eyes — not unlike Hunter, come to think of it. Numerous degrees and certifications line the walls of her office, along with several photos of her in her younger years wearing U.S. Army fatigues, which just makes one thing perfectly clear: She’s seen some shit.

  “Well, Daisy…” she says, pulling her brunette hair back into a ponytail. “Let’s take a look inside.”

  I lay back in the chair with my stomach exposed. Hunter sits beside me with his hands in his lap. His eyes roam the room, staring at anything other than me but I don’t take it personally. There’s a lot of weird stuff to look at in here; from the near-graphic posters to the 3D vagina models on the shelf above his head.

  Jones wheels a cart closer and sits on my other side.

  I focus on the small screen nearby as she slathers that gel on me. It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen the baby. Will it be twice as big with fingers and toes? Shit, maybe I should read one of those baby books…

  “Okay…” She takes the wand and flicks it on. “Do you have any questions for me?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Nothing at all?” She smiles. “There’s no such thing as a stupid question when you’re a first-time mom. Some symptoms, ailments, or quirks are universal to all pregnancies, but others are unique to you. Speak up when you can.”

  “I got nothing…” I say.

  She looks at Hunter. “How about you?”

  He blinks. “Me?”

  “Dads usually have the most interesting questions like… Can the baby see my penis during sex?”

  I chuckle at Hunter as he furrows his brow.

  “Wait,” he says, “can it?”

  Jones lays the wand on my stomach. “No. It can’t even feel the difference between sex or running up a flight of stairs. Intercourse is safe and greatly encouraged during healthy pregnancy. Go nuts.”

  He exhales. “Cool.”

  A soft thumping comes out of the speakers, sending both of us into silence. I recognize it immediately but I watch Hunter’s falling face as he slowly realizes what it is.

  “Pulse is strong,” Jones says.

  She adjusts the wand’s angle and the baby shows on the screen — nothing at all like the tiny yolk sac I saw before. It’s actually human-shaped now with a head and arms and legs…

  Holy shit.

  “Looks about five and a half centimeters long,” she notes. “That’s what we want at this stage.”

  I feel Hunter squeeze my hand and I look down at it. I don’t even remember him reaching for it…

  Dr. Jones zooms in on the baby’s chest. “See that flutter there?” She points at the screen and traces a circle around the quick-moving spot. “That’s the heart.”

  “Whoa…” I breathe.

  “Can you…” Hunter clears his throat. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Dr. Jones slides the wand over my belly. “It’s a little early to know for s
ure,” she says. “Should be more developed in a few weeks.”

  I bite my cheek, holding back the tears just waiting to fill my eyes.

  It’s not just a cluster of cells anymore.

  My baby. Our baby.

  What the hell are we doing?

  Chapter 21

  Hunter

  “Strike three!”

  I lower the bat to my side as the crowd deflates with disappointment.

  Fuck. That’s my third strike-out this game. I don’t blame them at all for being pissed at me. I’m Home Run Hunter. They paid money to see me hit home runs but I just can’t seem to land a single hit today. Not even a damn graze. I’ll take a fucking pop fly at this point. A foul ball. Anything but this.

  Seeing my baby this morning really messed me up. It’s only five and a half centimeters long, for Christ’s sake. It should not have this much power over me but hearing that heartbeat was like a damn ticking clock.

  That baby is coming and when it does, it deserves everything I never had and more.

  But I’m not sure if it can get it from me.

  I plop down in the dugout, ignoring the eyes of my teammates. At least they’re playing well this game — well enough to keep us in the lead by a wide margin. That just makes me feel even more useless, though.

  Bud makes eye contact with me and I can already tell what lecture I’ll get after the game. He thinks I’m doing exactly what he warned me not to do; that I’m letting it get to my head but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s not the dream of flying first class and being put up in fancy hotels and playing in the best stadiums ever built that’s screwing up my game.

  It’s that damn heartbeat thumping in my head.

  And Daisy. She looked as clueless as I felt. She tried to cover it up by cracking jokes and putting on a tough front afterward but her face was pale white the entire time.

  We have no idea what we’re doing.

  Limit distractions.

  I never thought of Daisy as a distraction but she clearly is now. The last thing I want is for her to leave, though. She’s my muse — if athletes even have them. I have her but I can’t have her. I could play before but I can’t now.

  What’s my damn problem?

  Devin falls onto the bench beside me. “You know what you need? A night out.”

  I glance at him. “Maybe.”

  He nudges my arm and keeps his voice down. “So, what’s up? You two have a fight or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what happened between yesterday’s game and today’s?”

  “I’m not allowed to have an off-day?” I ask.

  He points around. “Not according to this crowd, from the looks of it…”

  I take a deep breath. “I saw it this morning,” I say. “Hands, feet, beating heart…”

  Devin pauses. “Ohhhh.” He slaps my shoulder. “Say no more. Tonight, you come out with me and we’ll talk it out.”

  “No, Dev…”

  “Yes, Hunter.”

  “I don’t need to talk it out.”

  “At least, have a beer with me,” he says. “You need it. In the meantime, loosen up. Don’t think about it. It’s just you, the pitcher, and the ball. Nothing else matters outside of that diamond. All right?”

  I smile at the pep-talk. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Get your shit together.”

  He pats my shoulder one more time before standing up and grabbing a bat off the rack.

  Get my shit together.

  Easier said than done.

  Chapter 22

  Daisy

  I sit in bed with my phone one hand, growing more and more nervous with each page I turn. This book reads like a damn horror story and has kept me up half the night. Soon, every part of my body will become unrecognizable. I mean, even my feet and fingers will expand? How is that fair?

  To be honest, I think I actually preferred being in the dark about all of this. Think about it. If you were about to be hit by a train, would you rather watch as it speeds down the tracks in your direction and your mind fills with endless dread until you close your eyes at the last possible moment and — WHAM! — or would you want your back to it? Quick and painless. Never saw it coming.

  But this isn’t thirty seconds. This is nine months of Freaky Friday Kafka-esque changes. We’re only twelve weeks in and Hunter has already fled for the hills.

  Okay, he went out with the guys for one night. But still.

  I know why he went out and it has everything to do with that game today. He managed a single home run in the eighth inning, earning him the right to keep his nickname, but I can tell it wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been for him. There’s only one thing that changed between yesterday and today and that’s the doctor’s appointment.

  Today was my fault and he knows it. He’s pulling away from me and I didn’t even have to have the relationship talk. I guess it’s a new record.

  A soft twinge twitches deep in my abdomen; one that I’ve never felt before in my entire life. My phone slips from my hand and I hold my breath, waiting with fearful excitement to see if it happens again. I touch beneath my shirt, pressing in to try and replicate it. My skin crawls over my muscles. My insides churn. Panic sets in and a moment of clarity completely strikes me down.

  I can’t do this.

  What the hell am I thinking? What kind of hubris does it take to think that I can bring life into this world? Who the hell even does that? This thing is five centimeters long right now but soon it’ll be huge and I’ll have to give birth to it. Me? Squeeze a human being out of my little body?

  Oh, hell no.

  I hop off my bed and rush towards the door, not even bothering to throw on shoes or even pants as I step outside.

  A giggle strikes my ears and I stop cold, pressing myself against the wall as a voice drifts down the corridor at me. I hide in the door’s alcove and watch as Trisha appears around the corner with a man lingering over her shoulder with that purposeful look in his eyes. Devin.

  Trisha flicks her wrist to unlock her door and she turns around to welcome his lips on hers as they stumble backward into the room and slam the door behind them.

  I rush past her room, picking up my speed on my way towards Hunter’s hall.

  I felt it move. I know I did. But even if I didn’t…

  Oh, god. What am I going to do?

  Chapter 23

  Hunter

  “Hunter.”

  Her voice pulls me from the edge of sleep.

  “What?” I ask with closed eyes.

  “Wake up.”

  I stay buried in the sheets because there’s no damn way it’s morning yet. It feels as if I just got back from that bar twenty minutes ago. “Why?”

  “I think I felt it move.”

  In one ear and out the other, my head sinks a little more into my pillow.

  Her hand jolts my side. “Hunter.”

  “What?”

  “Please. I’m freaking out here.”

  I force my eyes open to see Daisy standing over my bed with her hands clenched over her stomach. As consciousness takes hold, I realize that she wasn’t here when I fell asleep. “How did you get in here?”

  “You left your door unlocked again.”

  I look at her bare feet on the floor. “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

  “Hunter, focus.” Her wide eyes flicker in the dark and her voice trembles with fear.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I felt it move,” she repeats, her hands shifting to one side across her shirt.

  “Isn’t that normal?”

  “Yeah, at like, twenty weeks or something. I’m only twelve.”

  I sit up against the headboard, gesturing for her to sit down with me. “Let me feel it.”

  She slides into the bed beside me and lays my hand on her stomach, guiding it down and pressing in with our fingertips. “It was right there…”

  I wait, focusing for a few seconds. “I don’t feel anyt
hing.”

  “Well, it’s not doing it now.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  “You remember that scene from Alien?”

  I laugh. “Daisy…”

  “It’s not funny, Hunter. I felt it, shifting around in there like a little swipe on my pelvis from the inside...”

  “And you’re scared it’s going to come crawling out of your chest?”

  “No, my vagina, which is way worse.”

  I yawn. “Okay, you already knew that before tonight, right? You know where babies come from?”

  “Don’t make fun of me right now, Hunter. Of course, I know. It just…” her eyes glisten over and she holds her breath, “sunk in.”

  I pause, feeling her body stiffen as a lone tear rolls down her cheek. “Oh, hey, hey…” I wrap my arm around her. “Daisy, you’re gonna be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. Look at me.” She keeps her head down, softly buried in my shoulder. “Daisy…”

  I hook a hand beneath her chin and force her head up to see a few more tears tumbling down.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers.

  I smile. “Are you kidding?”

  She slaps me away and moves to leave the bed. “Hunter, seriously, don’t—”

  “Daisy—” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her back to me. “Stay here.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “Stop, stop.” I lay my open palm on my stomach. “You feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  I hold onto her a little tighter, slowly pulling her in until she’s against me. “This.”

  She sighs. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Shh.”

  She waits, silently settling in beside me. I feel her pulse in her chest, thumping hard with the quick rush of her breath. Eventually, she lays her hand over mine on her stomach and the quivering fear in her shoulders stops shaking her.

  “Daisy,” I tell her, “you’re going to be okay.”

  “Yeah?” she sniffs.

  “Millions of women do this every year and I guarantee you that each one of them is not more hardcore than you are.”