by Dina Silver
“It’s a complete tragedy that your first White Sox game is the Cross Town Classic - in the Scout Seats. If anyone finds out I let you have this, they may not let me back into U.S. Cellular field,” he says soon after we wake.
“I promise to root, root, root for the home team until my throat is sore!” I place my right hand over my heart. “And just so Dave knows how appreciative I am, I will make it my personal goal to eat and drink as much free food that is available to me. Even the peanut shells.” I lick my lips just thinking of the crunchy salt.
“Okay, the team is counting on you.”
“Fear not, I will personify the term fair-weathered fan better than anyone. And more importantly,” I add as I attempt to run my fingers through the bird’s nest atop my head. “I’m going to need to borrow a baseball hat.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “How do I know I’m going to regret this?”
We head to the game in my car because our Scout tickets also come with a V.I.P. parking pass. Traffic is horrific, but once we get close to the ballpark and start waving our fancy pass around, it’s like the parting of the Red Sea. We drive past all the lots reserved for common folk, all of the season ticket holder lots, and pull up right in front of the ballpark. Had we parked closer to the field, we would have mowed down the concession stands.
“This is awesome,” I say, simply giddy over our celebrity parking space and proximity to home plate.
“I’ve never seen anyone get this excited over a parking spot.”
“Seriously, if we get no other perks than this, I’ll be thrilled.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes my hand and we enter the stadium through an iron gate reserved for Scout seat ticket holders… and perhaps royalty.
Once inside, we’re ushered to a large dining room with tables everywhere, flat screens littering the walls, and a huge bar that runs the length of the space. Predictably there are signed jerseys, photographs, and loads of White Sox memorabilia scattered about the walls. A woman greets us at the hostess stand and shows us to a table. I look over at Ryan and see that he has slipped into his own state of euphoria, and a bright internal light has illuminated his green eyes.
“This is like the best day of your life, right?” I smile and pat him on his shoulder after we take our seat at the table.
“You have no idea how great these tickets are.”
“Are you going to cry?” I ask, trying to tease him.
“If they win, maybe.”
“Oh, I’ll be cheering for sure now.” I clap my hands. He seriously cannot keep from smiling. “Try and stop smiling, just see if you can,” I challenge him. He lowers the corners of his mouth. “Nice try, but your cheeks are still elevated,” I say.
“I imagine I’ll only stop smiling if they start losing. But quite frankly, this is one of the coolest days of my life so far,” he says, eyes squinty.
“Well, I know I wasn’t your first choice…”
“You weren’t,” he reminds me, still smiling.
“I know, but if you’ll let me finish - rude - I am thrilled to be here, this is really awesome, and I love seeing you all guy smiley like this,” I comment as the waitress places two bottles of Miller Lite on the table.
Ryan takes a sip, and then consoles me. “I’m just teasing you about the third choice stuff, I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
Just as the game is about to get underway, we head for our seats, and when we enter the stadium we are so unbelievably close to the field, I can almost reach out and grab a blade of grass.
“You look like you’ve never been to a ball game before,” I say. “Seriously, what grade are you in?” I giggle at his boyish charm.
“Kat, you have no idea what it means to walk into U.S. Cellular Field and watch the Sox beat the Cubs.” He turns to face me. “They will beat the Cubs,” he repeats and then plants a quick hard kiss on my head. “I’m usually way up in the nose bleed section.”
I spin around to observe the other fans soaking up this age-old rivalry. As gender would have it, I wasn’t a big baseball fan growing up, and the only time I ever watched any games on TV was with Marc. Who, ironically, is a huge Cubs fan. A word that I wouldn’t dare utter within five miles of Ryan unless I am looking to be scalped.
The game officially begins with the singing of the National Anthem, a moment that has brought almost all of the men in the crowd to tears. I can feel the sense of honor and importance that this game and these teams mean to everyone. The competition is palpable, and I do not envy the brave Cubs fans that have come here to support their team all decked out in red and bright blue. They stand out as much as I did in the Back Room, only no one here is going to extend them an ounce of kindness.
I point them out to Ryan. “Wouldn’t want to be with them.”
“Winning is the best revenge,” he replies.
“Well put.” I want to hold his hand but I decide to leave any P.D.A. initiative to him. Instead, I devour my first bag of free popcorn. Just then I feel my phone vibrate. I pause for a second, wondering if cell phones are unsportsmanlike at U.S. Cellular Field. I wouldn’t want to make Ryan’s choice of companion look any more like a rookie than she already does. I pull it slowly from my front pocket and take a quick peek.
I need ur car.
Adam texts me.
No can do.
I say.
WTF??!!
He demands to know.
At the game!!!!!!
I reply.
What game?
He asks.
The cross town classic.
I type.
WTF?
He says.
THE WHITE SOX GAME!!
I laugh to myself.
I need your car.
He repeats.
I’m with Ryan and free beer, no can do.
I shake my head at his defiance.
You must be thrilled, black is the team color.
He texts.
Quite.
I answer.
Call me at halftime.
He signs off.
“What are you doing?” Ryan busts me on my phone.
“Uh, nothing…checking the time?” My head sinks.
“Kat, the phone stays put away, eyes on the field.”
“Sir, yes sir.” I roll my eyes to myself. I mean, the place is owned by a cell phone company for God’s sake.
Paul Konerko is the first to bat for the White Sox and the place goes bananas as he steps up to the plate. PAULY! PAULY! PAULY! The ballpark is vibrating with an energy like nothing I have ever experienced before, but as soon as the first pitch clears the plate and it’s a strike, you can hear a pin drop. Pitch two is a strike. Pitch three is a foul. Pitch four is also fouled. Then comes pitch five, apparently exactly what he was waiting for because the guy smacks it straight down center field and right into the bleachers for a home run out of the gate. You would have thought the 35,000 plus people here tonight have just won the lottery because the eruption of sound and fury could rival the Colosseum in its hey day. In that moment, Ryan lifts me off my feet and into the air like a rag doll, then presses his lips on mine for the most vigorous, enthusiastic, sportsmanlike kiss I’ve ever received. Baseball is my new favorite pastime. My head is filled with infatuation, and I start to obsess less about the free snacks, and more about the man standing next to me. Whether he believes it or not, I am honored to be here with him, and I do not take lightly the gravity of these seats and what this game means to him. The fact that I’m here, sharing in this moment, brings a huge, cheesy grin to my face. I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.
I feel my phone pulsating in my pocket again, so I grab it quickly to silence Adam once and for all, but see that it’s Julie calling me instead. I hit ignore, and shove it back in my pocket. My pulse is racing faster than it was moments ago, and I’m doing everything in my power not to show my change in mood.
It vibrates again, this time it’s a text from her.
Where r u?
If I answer, then I will have to come up with a lie, and sit here texting lies during the game. Thus annoying Ryan, and lying to Julie. If I ignore her, I will have to come up with a lie later on. Either way I have to lie, and I think it’s better that Ryan not be with me when I do. I finally shut off my phone and wave down the hot dog vendor.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
Coffee and a Stud Muffin
Monday morning there’s a blueberry muffin and a note waiting for me in my cubicle when I arrive at work. Next to it is a post-it that simply reads: Good Morning – Ryan. I’m marveling at the note when Adam pops his head over the wall.
He reads it over my shoulder. “And a good morning from me as well.”
“Pretty cute, huh?” I say proudly and wave the note like a flag before saving it in a desk drawer.
“Whatever,” he snips and sits on my desk.
“You’re just jealous because there’s no love pastry on your desk this morning,” I say.
Adam crosses his arms. “You never called me back yesterday and I needed your car.”
“I’m sorry, but my car was parked at the Field of Dreams.”
Adam leans back, crushing a stack of papers behind him. “Well, Dave came home earlier than planned and I was able to get where I needed to go without your help,” he says. “You can buy lunch today and make it up to me.”
“I can’t, I’m supposed to meet up with Megan. Now can I please have possession of my desk?”
“In a minute,” he continues. “So, did you have fun going out with me and the boys on Saturday or what?”
“Honestly, I had a blast. It was way more of an ego-boost than I had imagined! I hope you had a fabulous birthday,” I say and tilt my chin downward. “Aren’t you going to ask me how the Sox game was?”
“What game?” he asks in all seriousness.
I slap his knee in order to extricate Adam from my desk and he plops down on my floor instead. “Goodbye!” I hint loudly. “I need to commence my work day,” I say and turn my attention to the computer. “Brooke has been in an evil mood for the past week, and I think she’s about had it with my office romance. If she sees you over here having a picnic, I’m a dead woman.”
“I’m just hiding out so Maureen from H.R. doesn’t chat with me on the way to her office. Her stale coffee breath is certain to reawaken my hangover from yesterday.”
I begin checking my emails and notice one that looks scarily familiar. “Uh oh, I have an email from Marc.” Adam and I exchange raised-brow expressions. “Talk about hangover.”
“See, it’s a good thing I’m here.” Adam leaps to his feet and nearly shoves me out of the way with his shoulder. “What does it say?”
“I didn’t read it yet, moron, move!” I yell and push him away. “I’m a little scared.”
“Of what? He’s not standing here…you move,” Adam wheels my chair out of the cubicle with me in it and proceeds to open the email. I roll my chair back to him with my heels as fast as I can.
Adam reads aloud.
Kat, I have wanted to talk to you since the night after the wedding. I know email isn’t the most mature way of communicating, but it’s just easier for me right now. Hope you understand. Like I mentioned, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and the past couple weeks have been no different. I wanted to know if we could get together and talk about things in person. Let me know when you can meet.
-Marc
“Such Monday morning fun we’re having!” Adam exclaims.
I break into a cold sweat and slump down into my chair. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that today,” I shake my head.
“What night is he talking about, the wedding?” he asks me.
“Yes and no,” I confess. “He came over to my apartment that night after the wedding a few weeks ago.”
Adam begs for more information. “And?”
“And, he kissed me. Then I stopped him and he left with his tail between his legs,” I say, scrolling back to the top of his email.
“Why am I just hearing about this?”
“I don’t know, it was the night before my first date with Ryan and I was just trying not to think about Marc I guess - or you for that matter.”
“Rude.”
I swivel around to face Adam. “So now what? I have to see him,” I say, looking for answers in Adam’s expression.
“No you don’t, you’ve moved on.”
I nervously twist the ends of my ponytail with my fingers. The mere sight of Marc’s name on an email makes me uneasy. “Well, I can’t really just send that back in a reply. That’s a little cold don’t you think?” I ask.
Adam puts his hands on my shoulders and looks down at me. “I’m sorry little one, but this is nothing new with Marc. The only difference between now, and every other time he’s toyed with your affection, is that there is someone else in the picture this time. Someone you are wild about and who’s obviously wild about you.” He points to the pastry that Ryan left for me. “So, maybe this is the opportunity that you’ve always wanted but never had before. Tell Marc that you and your muffin have met someone else and moved on.”
I sigh heavily, knowing that I’ve never had the strength to reject Marc before, so why should this time be any different. “True or not, I can’t imagine having the strength to say that to him.”
“It isn’t going to be easy, darling,” he checks his phone. “I have to run, so blind c.c. me on the email reply to Marc,” he says on his way out.
I roll my eyes.
The next email I have is from Julie. Thank God Adam has left my cube. I read it in solitude.
Tried to reach you all day yesterday! What gives? Call me at work.
-J
I respond immediately.
Sorry about that, Blackberry issues. I will call you when Brooke leaves. Just got an email from Marc. He wants to talk.
-Kat
That should divert her attention from my disappearing act yesterday. This charade can’t go on for much longer. Never in my life have I lied to Julie, let alone avoided her like this. My temples begin to pulsate just thinking about it.
I spend the next ten minutes focusing on the email from Marc and formulating a reply. I shake my throbbing head at the fact that just when I meet someone new, and attempt to put my relationship with Marc behind me, he comes back all sweet and considerate like I wanted him to be months ago. I don’t have it in me to send some rejection letter back to him. I will meet with him and discuss things in person. He deserves that. I reply:
Hey Marc,
Good to hear from you. I would love to get together and chat. Pretty much any day this week after work, besides Friday, is good for me. Does tomorrow work for you? If so, I can meet you at the Starbucks by my apartment around 6:00pm.
-K
I will see him tomorrow and take care of things. Now I begin to feel somewhat relieved that I had the chance to tell him about my date with Ryan weeks ago. Even though it seemed like a bad idea at the time, at least I won’t have to break it to him tomorrow. Just then my phones rings and it’s Megan.
“This is Kat,” I answer.
“Well, hello, Kat,” she mocks me. “Can you still do lunch today?”
“I believe I can, and I’ve got lots to fill you in on,” I plant the gossip seed this time, so she’ll be sure and keep her marital angst to herself.
“Do tell!” she demands.
“Not until lunch. You can’t break me today, I have to go. Work, work, work.”
“You suck. Fine, meet me at Panera at twelve-thirty.”
“Perfect, see you there.”
I hang up the phone and fight the urge to walk over to Ryan’s office and chat. The more intimate we get, the more I worry about office snoops, so I decide to text him instead.
Thx for the muffin!
I say.
My pleasure.
He replies.
Busy?
I ask.
A little, come see.
&
nbsp; He says.
Will do.
Screw the snoops.
I walk over to Ryan’s office and pass Adam’s desk on the way. He’s on the phone and gives me an animated wink as I breeze by him. Ryan is also on the phone when I arrive, so I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. He smiles at me.
“Shut the door,” he mouths as he finishes up his call.
I close the door behind me, and within seconds I have a text from Adam.
Niiiiiiice.
He texts, clearly enjoying himself.
Get to work.
I send back.
Any more love pastries in there?
He asks.
Ryan hangs up the phone and leans back in his chair. He looks typically spectacular this morning, wearing a navy dress shirt with a pair of khaki pants. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his skin looks freshly scrubbed and smooth. I can’t help but blush as he’s staring at me.
“I have to go to Vegas with Dave on Wednesday,” he says and stretches his back.
“What for?” I ask.
“We’re presenting the new Bellagio creative. Dave says they’re putting each of us up in our own suite.”
“Sweet,” I say. “Yes, well Adam and I are going to Gurnee Mills Outlet Mall, so take that.”
He laughs. “We get back on Friday night. Are you available?”
“I will be.” I nod.
“Perfect, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too, although the week isn’t going to be much fun around here now. Try not to gamble away all the money you’ll be spending on me Friday night.”
“I’ll do my best.” He places his phone in his front pocket and then lets out a concerned sigh, “Okay, you, I really should get some of this copy done, and it’s not going to happen with you in here.”