by Jean Joachim
“I didn’t have to talk much to convince you,” Nicki replied, hurrying to keep up.
“I didn’t think it would bother me, seeing him again.”
“And did it?”
“Are you kidding?” Tears filled her eyes. “And he was so aloof. Like he didn’t see me or didn’t care. I mean, it’s like we never happened. At least to him.” She swiped at the wetness on her cheek.
“What do you mean?” Nicki grabbed her friend and stopped. “He looked upset.”
“Upset? I thought he looked cool as ice. Talking about nothing. ‘It’s been a while.’ A while! My fuckin’ ass, a while! It’s been fifty-seven days!”
Nicki rummaged through her bag until she found a clean tissue.
“He doesn’t care anymore, Nicki. He’s forgotten me so fast. I never expected that.”
“No, he hasn’t. You didn’t see the look on his face when he spotted you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He was devastated. I could tell he wanted to come over, but hesitated.”
“Really? Are you telling me the truth?”
“I am. Cross my heart.” Which she did.
Dusty covered her face with her hands. “I miss him so much, Nicki. I’m so sorry we broke up. I should have done something different.”
“Given up softball?”
“No. But I didn’t look for a compromise. I dug my heels in. Then, he did, and there we were, stuck, being stubborn.”
“Well, you’ve got a point there. It’s not too late, you know. He’s not dead.”
“No, but I didn’t see anything in him that wanted me. I didn’t feel it, like I used to.”
“He’s got it covered up, so it doesn’t screw up the play-offs.”
“Maybe.”
The women descended the stairs and took the train home. Dusty lay in bed, thinking about Matt. Her game had gone to hell after their break-up. She could still pitch, but her batting was terrible. She struck out every time. By the end of the season, her record had taken a dive, though she had maintained her position as one of the top three pitchers in the league.
She missed Matt every day. If she closed her eyes, she could smell his masculine scent mixed with a woodsy aftershave. Sometimes, she’d lay in bed and imagine what it would be like to be his wife. She’d chuckle to herself, thinking about how much he’d have to adjust. Matt didn’t know squat about being a husband. Not that she could do wife in her sleep or anything. But she was definitely the more adaptable of the two.
Still, she hadn’t adjusted when it had counted most, had she? She’d simply turned him down flat. Crushed him like a bug under her heel. She’d left him nowhere to go. And so, they had faced off, each holding ground, not giving an inch. And where was she? Miserable. You couldn’t cuddle up to a softball at night. Still, she had her career. Maybe she could figure something out. Maybe it wasn’t too late?
The next day, she gathered her roommates.
“I need help. I want to find a way to compromise with Matt Jackson.”
“You mean you want to marry him, and play softball, and have him accept it?”
“Sort of. There has to be a compromise that both of us can live with,” Dusty said.
“I don’t see any,” Lorna said. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“Me neither. Good luck, though,” Evie said.
“I’ll think about it. Come on. Have breakfast.” Nicki put a plate of eggs in front of her friend.
Dusty wasn’t hungry, but she ate any way. “Why does it hurt so much to be in love, Nicki?”
“I don’t know. Wish I did. Wish I was in love.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Yep. Once. He was a bad choice. Wrong guy.”
“Did he break your heart?”
Nicki rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? It took a year to get over him.”
“A year! Damn.”
“Yep.”
“I’ll never get over Matt. I’ll always wonder, ‘what if?’”
“That’s tough,” Nicki said, taking the plates to the sink.
Dusty turned on the faucet and washed. “It is. But it’s also wonderful. It’s wonderful to love someone. To hope for the best for them. To be proud of them.”
Nicki sighed. “I wouldn’t know. It’s been a long time.”
“I don’t want to fall in love with someone else. I have hope. It’s gotta be Matt or no one.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dusty said, turning off the water and drying her hands.
* * * *
The Nighthawks kept up their drive, winning the playoffs in five games. There was a four-day break then on to the World Series. The infielders chipped in and chartered a plane. They took a short-term house rental in Florida.
Days by the pool, nights hooking up with girls they met in the local bar, and some whiskey relaxed the men. All except Matt. He joined them at the bar, but went home alone. Dan had taken a suite in a fancy hotel in New York. He and Holly ordered room service and cocooned.
Watching his teammates with women made Matt a bit jealous. Not that any of the girls appealed to him, but they made him miss Dusty more. The guys kept their women for all three days. To get out of the way and stop watching them having fun, Matt went to the movies. He saw four movies in two days.
On the plane back home, the guys talked about the Series. Nerves were high. This was the first World Series for most of them, and they desperately wanted to win. Each man had something to prove to himself, his family, and his friends.
Matt figured it was their time, winning had to happen. He couldn’t have been more wrong. The ’Hawks couldn’t do anything right, and the Portland Kingpins couldn’t do anything wrong. They swept the Series from the Nighthawks in four straight games.
It wasn’t just a loss—it was an embarrassment, a very public humiliation. The locker room after the last game was so quiet, Matt could hear himself breathe. Cal Crawley tried to keep the press out, but they snuck in anyway. As team captain, Matt spoke for the players.
“We’ve had a great season this year. I don’t know what happened. Nothing was working for us. Portland? They had it together. All cylinders pumping. They’ve been strong all year, and that just extended to the playoffs and the Series as well. They played great. We congratulate them and look forward to another shot at the Series next year.”
The ’Hawks infielders had their tails between their legs. No one had hit well. Their pitching had sucked. Even Dan Alexander hadn’t been able to win. Matt had made two key errors. And he wasn’t alone. The team had had too many of them. The men were disgusted and depressed. No one mentioned going to Freddie’s. Matt figured each man had to lick his wounds in his own way.
Jackson had to deal with it alone. But he’d gotten used to that. When he thought everything that could go wrong had, his cell dinged. A text from his father.
Mr. Jackson, your father is in Allegheny General with
congestive heart failure. Please come as soon as you can.
Dr. Stephen Rice
Matt stood, frozen to the ground. If his dad died, that would be the final straw.
“What’s the matter, Matt?” Dan asked.
“It’s my dad. He’s in the hospital. Congestive heart failure. I have to go to Pittsburgh.”
Dan grabbed Matt’s arm. “I’m sorry, buddy. I hope he’ll be okay.”
As if on automatic pilot, Matt returned to his place, packed a bag, and caught a flight out. He found a hotel near the hospital, checked in, and then took a taxi to see his father. Tom was in a room with four other beds. Two were empty.
Matt drew up a chair next to his dad. “Hey, Pop. What happened?”
“What you knew would all along.”
“Doctor said you’ll recover, but if you keep drinking, you’ll die.”
“I know, son. They’ve told me that before.”
Matt pushed to his feet and went to stand by the window. After all the years, the struggles wi
th his father, he still didn’t want his old man to pass on. “They said you could leave in a couple of days. We need to get you some home care.”
“I don’t want any strangers in my house,” Tom said, pushing up against his pillow.
“What if I stayed with you for a couple of days before the home aide starts?”
“You’d do that? You’d stay with me?”
“Sure. Season’s over. I don’t have anything on for a while.”
Tom’s face lit up with a grin. “That’d be great, Matt. Sure would be nice having you around again. Kinda like old times.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll stay for a week, then turn you over to someone who knows a lot more about taking care of people than I do. Deal?” He stuck out his hand.
“Deal,” Tom said, shaking on it.
Matt headed for the cafeteria to grab a bite while his dad was bedded down. He groaned to think he’d have to spend a week in that hellhole his father called home. He figured it would make the transition easier. The old man could be a tough bird, stubborn too. Matt needed to have someone come in and take care of Tom and that wouldn’t happen if he didn’t ease the way.
Depression settled over him like a dark cloud. Losing Dusty, then the series, and now this. Three strikes and I’m out. When he finished his food, he stopped by to say goodnight then took a taxi to the hotel.
Once he settled in, watching the news and having a nightcap, his cell rang. It was Cal Crawley.
“Hey, Matt. How’s your dad?”
“He’ll live. I have to hang here for a week to get him settled at home.”
“That’s good. About the kids’ camp?”
“Yeah. I assume Dusty doesn’t want to do it this year?”
“She offered her friend Nicki to substitute. Is that okay? Are you still on board?”
“Yeah. I’m in.”
“Good. Thanks. Best of luck with your father. Oh, by the way, the camp is earlier this year. We’re doing it for three weeks at the beginning of February. That okay with you?”
“Sure.”
“It’s after school, then. Three to five thirty. I’ll send you the details.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
“Take care, Matt.”
“Will do. Thanks for calling.”
He couldn’t believe it. He’d forgotten all about that stupid, fucking camp. He’d committed to it, expecting Dusty to be there. Of course, she wouldn’t want to. Any idiot would have figured that out. Any idiot except him! He couldn’t believe he’d struck out again. He put his head in his hands. How much worse could things get? He shuddered. After a week with dad, everything else would be a piece of cake.
The next morning, he made arrangements at the hospital for home care for his father. Then, he packed up Tom and took him home in a cab. He said a prayer of thanks that the housekeeper was still coming, as the house was clean and manageable. He had no idea how he’d fit on his dad’s sofa. He kept telling himself it was only a week. Simply seven days.
He went out to buy groceries and picked up a deck of cards. His father liked to play. Matt hoped that would help pass the time. Tom had pleaded not to take him off alcohol cold turkey, so Matt bought a bottle of bourbon. He’d regulate how much the old man got. With a bag of food under one arm and a pizza under the other, he returned.
Tom had dressed in fresh pajamas. He opened the door. The men enjoyed their feast of an everything pizza and a little bourbon.
“Tell me about that little filly of yours,” he said, taking a slug of bourbon.
“We broke up.”
“You did? What the hell for?” Tom frowned.
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got plenty of time. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Tom said, chewing on a crust.
“Where should I begin?”
Matt explained the situation as briefly as he could. Tom listened, nodding from time to time.
“Are you still on that kick that you killed your sister?”
Matt didn’t answer.
“Well, you didn’t. Get over it, Matt.”
“Can we change the subject?”
“Sure, let’s talk about your mom. And the dumb idea that she left because of you.”
“Come on, Dad. You can’t argue with that,” Matt said, refilling his shot glass.
“Oh, yeah? I can and do. It’s about time I shared some facts about your mother, and me.”
Heart racing, Matt faced his father. Oh shit!
Chapter Seventeen
“Okay, fire away,” Matt said, turning a skeptical eye on Tom.
“I met your mother at AA.”
“What?” Matt straightened up.
“This is gonna take a lot longer if you keep interrupting.”
“Sorry.”
“Yep. We met at AA. Your mom was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She’d had a hard life. Her father beat her. He was a drunk, not that I should talk, but he was. And he’d get mean. He’d smack her, hit her with anything he could find. Her mother was useless. With nowhere to turn and no way to cope, Valerie started drinking when she was a teen. She came to AA at twenty. We met there and fell in love.”
“Did you get sober?”
“I’m coming to that. Pour me another, will you?”
Matt did as he was told. “Make it last. That’s it for tonight.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll sip,” he said, taking a taste. “This is good stuff.”
“Go on, Pop.”
“We fell in love and got married. We kept going to meetings and stayed on the wagon. It was a wonderful time.” He paused, tearing up for a second.
“Continue.”
“Then, you came along.”
“I knew it.” Matt made a face.
“No, no, wait.” Tom held up a hand. “It was fine when you were a baby, but as soon as you began to crawl and walk, you’d get into things. Like every normal kid. Your mom couldn’t take it. She started hitting you.”
“Hitting me?”
“Yeah. Like her father did. At first, it was just a slap here and there. No problem. But when you were three, it escalated. She’d use a shoe, or a belt. I had to intervene. From then on, I didn’t want to leave you alone with her. I enrolled you in nursery school and an afterschool playgroup. Then, I’d come home early, and it was okay. But when you were five, I had to work later, and it started up again. But by then, you were gettin’ pretty big, so you hit her back.”
“I did? I hit my mother?”
“It was self-defense, son.”
Matt shook his head. He had no memory of these events.
“She began to drink again. Then, she went off on you once, big time. But you fought back. She wasn’t much, just about five feet two and slim. You were strong. You fended her off. She backed away. After that, her drunken fights with you were mainly verbal. She was afraid to start something. I was grateful she didn’t hurt you bad.”
“Geez. Pop. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Wait. I’m not finished. No, you and your mom didn’t get along. You two were like oil and water. And her drinkin’ didn’t help. I tried to get her back on the wagon, back to meetings, but she wouldn’t go.”
“I didn’t know she had a drinking problem.”
“Big time. You and she went your separate ways. You stayed away from each other when you could. Things were peaceful for a while. Then, your sister came along.”
“Marnie.”
“Yeah. When she was a baby, it was fine. But when she became a toddler, it was like with you all over again. But this time, Val was drinkin’ a lot more. When Marnie turned three, she refused to wear something, and your mother insisted. A fight broke out. Your mother hit the bottle, then came back and beat that child mercilessly.”
“Where was I? Where were you?”
“You were at school. I was at work. When you got home, you called me. Remember? Mom wasn’t home, and you said some kids must have beat Marnie up?”
“I do remember that.�
�
“It wasn’t some kids. It was your mother. We took your sister to the emergency room. The doctor reported it to the police. Children’s services came snoopin’ around.”
“They should have.”
“They wanted to take you both away from us. That’s when your mother and I agreed. She wasn’t safe around you kids. She had to go. We made a deal with children’s services. Your mother packed up and left. You see, it was her problem, not you. You weren’t the reason.”
Matt covered his face with his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She begged me not to. She was so ashamed. But she couldn’t help herself. After she left, I lost it. She had been the love of my life. Now, I had two kids to raise alone, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Thank God you stepped up and took care of your sister.”
“I had no idea. All these years, I hated her for leaving.”
“If she’d a stayed, you’d’ve both been put in foster care. And probably not together.”
Matt sat there and shook his head.
“So, stop beating yourself up for your mother taking off. She did you a favor.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” he muttered, half to himself.
“No, it wasn’t. I tried to tell you that a hundred times, but you wouldn’t listen. Stubborn.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner?”
“Maybe I should have, but she begged me not to.”
“You’re in touch with her?”
“We write. Email, from time to time.”
“Where is she? Why didn’t she come to Marnie’s funeral?”
“She did. She stood in the back. It had been fifteen years since you’d seen her. You probably didn’t recognize her.”
“Why didn’t she come forward?”
“She was still drinking, barely under control. She doesn’t want you to know her like that. Or feel sorry for her. Or try to help her. She gave up those rights when she left.”
Matt poured himself another shot and downed it in one gulp. “And now?” He wiped his mouth with his hand and made eye contact with Tom.
“She’d prefer to stay where she is, in Illinois. She’s not well. You know what years of hard drinking can do.”