Gently, she held onto Drew, not too tightly, and hoped his panic wouldn’t turn into a full-on meltdown, as tears watered her face. Her little boy would never fit in and be welcomed by the world. No one would ever understand him or care. What would happen to him after she was gone? Who would look after him?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Tell me about your day with that family you hosted at the ballpark.” Ryan’s mother, Frances, laid a napkin primly on her lap as the waitress placed a Cobb salad in front of her.
Ryan and his mother had weekly lunches at her country club where she drilled him on his life and gave him instructions on how to act or appear normal.
Frances Hudson was a widow who had a firm sense of duty, right, and wrong. Nowadays, she spent her time volunteering and running committees. She kept trim and fit by playing golf and tennis, and she was always well-dressed with matching jacket, blouse, skirt, shoes and accessories.
Impeccable. That was the one word to describe her. Since she had such high standards for herself, it was only natural that she expected a lot from her only son, Ryan.
“It went well.” He leaned back from the sizzling fajitas still smoking on the iron plate. “The boys had a great time.”
“Looked like you enjoyed their company, too.” His mom gave him an encouraging smile. “What did you think about their mother?”
“She’s a nice lady.” Ryan looked away from his mother. He didn’t quite know what to feel about Jamie. Correction. His body was all for sleeping with her, but she wasn’t the type of woman he met at the sports bars who were easy to figure out.
“Ryan, remember to look me in the eye when I ask you a question.” His mother fixed him with her penetrating blue eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, from looking at that picture where you gave her a hug, I’d say you like her enough to ask her out.”
Why did his mother always make him feel like a five-year-old? Questioning and judging everything and making sure he didn’t make mistakes.
Ryan speared a piece of chicken with his fork. “She’s not the type to go out with a man.”
“She’s not married, is she?”
“She’s divorced, and she’s busy with her sons. One of them has good aim. He can be a good pitcher someday.”
“If I had to guess, you’re talking about the younger one. From the pictures I saw, I can tell he’s autistic. Not smiling at the camera, off by himself while you played with his brother, and most telling of all, when you were hugging his mother, the kid stared at a baseball while his brother looked at the two of you.”
“He does have autism,” Ryan agreed. At least now the focus was off of him and his behavior. “I tried to get him to play catch, but he wouldn’t play.”
His mother pointed her fork at him, her eyes brightening. “Remember how I got you to play catch with me?”
There she went again, always reminding him how much work she did to help him grow up correctly. Of course, he was grateful, because without her, he wouldn’t know how to navigate the world of people.
“How?” He remembered that she wanted him to prompt her so she could continue with the conversation.
“I let you throw the ball at the wall, and I helped you by throwing the ball back so you wouldn’t have to come get it, not because I wanted to play with you.”
“I should have thought of that, but we were in the infield of the ballpark. Maybe I should have taken the kid back to the bullpen where he was throwing at the target.” Ryan had a mental picture of how it would work the next time he saw Drew. “I do remember what you did, but I thought I could get him to throw at me wearing the target.”
“You know that won’t work. It has to be specific to what he was doing before. Then you could wear a target and stand next to the one on the wall, and help him by throwing the ball back. Eventually, he’ll associate you with the throwing and catching, and then you can get him to play catch.” Mother lifted her chin triumphantly. “It takes some time, but everything can be taught.”
“Or trained,” Ryan said. “Do you think I should try again? Ask Jamie if I can take Drew to the bullpen and see what he can do?”
“Only if you like Jamie.” Mother winked. “The way women are, if you pay attention to their kid, it’s giving them signals that you want to date them.”
“What if I only want to play with the kids?” Ryan asked in between bites of steak and chicken.
“Doesn’t work that way and you know it.” Mother crunched on her salad. “Jamie’s not one of those women who are only out for a one night stand.”
“I know that, Mom. I’m not stupid.” Ryan rubbed his sore shoulder. “I know how to handle those women.”
“I disapprove, but it’s the only script you know.” Mother’s eyebrows drew down. “You’ve had it too easy, being an athlete where women throw themselves at you.”
“I don’t like to do the bar scene anymore. They all seem so young.”
“That’s because you’re ready for a normal relationship with a responsible woman.” His mother leaned back and gave him an assessing look. She was always critical of his behavior and felt it was her duty to correct him, even now, at his age.
“I do like Jamie,” he admitted, wondering why he felt obliged to answer her every question. “She’s very pretty and she’s definitely responsible, although she doesn’t stretch Drew enough. She’s too afraid of his meltdowns, so she doesn’t make him try new things.”
“She probably has her hands full being a single mother.”
“True. She wanted me to take her older son, Ben, to a movie, but she didn’t want to go herself, so Brock’s going to go to the movie since it’s his wife and daughter who are also going.”
“What do you want to do?” His mother always asked the hard questions, sounding like a therapist.
Ryan shrugged and turned his attention to his lunch. He liked being around Jamie, but he didn’t have time for all the games he’d have to play to get into a relationship with her. He was set in his ways and knew what to expect whether on or off the field, and as much as he liked Ben and Drew, he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with all the drama and chaos that came with two boys, a single mom, and possibly an ex-husband still in the picture.
He carefully watched his mother finish half of her salad, neatly drawing a line across her plate and leaving the other half untouched. She’d missed out on a lot while he was growing up—taking him to special schools, spending countless hours with him teaching him things that other children picked up on intuitively. She’d covered his wall with signs and instructions. Pasted arrows from his bedroom to the bathroom with numbers, listing his morning routine—then coached him on every social nicety from greeting people to saying prayers.
If Jamie were half as diligent as his mother, she wouldn’t have the time to date or go out with him or let him get into her pants or anywhere else.
He should forget about her. She wasn’t available. Except, his mind kept wandering back to her. The feel of her in his arms and the way she’d leaned on him, needing the physical contact, had him missing her and wanting more. Could it be given her experience with Drew, that she might understand him and not reject him if she found out how difficult he’d been growing up?
He cleaned his plate and set his fork down. “I want to help Drew learn how to pitch.”
His mother looked up from her salad and sipped her seltzer water, smiling as if she’d won a debate. “Then you need to follow a new script. Jamie’s not going to let you play with Drew until she trusts you. The first thing you should do is call her and tell her how much you enjoyed the day with her family. You did do that, right?”
“Uh, actually, I didn’t call her.” Ryan’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to go to the movie with Ben because the coach benched me. He would ask why I’m not playing in the games.”
“This isn’t good.” Mother took a pen out of her purse and grabbed a napkin. “Let me write down what you should do. First, call her and say you enjoyed the day you spent wi
th them. Then, tell her how you would like to show Drew how to pitch. If she asks about the movie, say you’d love to go, but that you want her to go with you. She’ll say she can’t go because of Drew. Then you will have to go, even if Ben asks you why you’re not playing. Tell him the truth. Your shoulder isn’t working. Then, after the movie, you will get to talk to Jamie again. She’ll be happy you made her son happy. Ask to take them to the bullpen and set up a time. She’ll go along, as always, and if her children have a wonderful time, it softens her up for you to ask her on a date. Start with lunch and give her enough time to arrange babysitting.”
“I know how to do that.” Ryan felt like an awkward teenager memorizing how to ask a girl out, or a four-year-old with a step-by-step chart on how to get ready for school in the morning.
“Great.” His mother looked at her watch. “If you don’t have to be at the ballpark this afternoon, why don’t you drop by and put your plan into action? I’ve got a round of golf after lunch.”
Ryan glanced at the scribbles on the napkin. It sounded way too complicated. Why couldn’t Jamie be as straightforward as the women at the sports bar?
“I can tell what that look on your face means.” His mother wiped her lips, then got out her compact and reapplied her lipstick. “Nothing valuable is easily gained, and you and I both know you need to step up and get on with your life. You’re not going to have baseball forever.”
Like he wanted to be reminded. Ugh.
“Let me get the bill.” Ryan knew his mother always had to have the last word. She still felt he was a work in progress and that he needed her guidance.
Mother bent down and kissed him on the cheek, for sure smearing his face with lipstick. “You be a dear now. It’s hard to do something different, but you need to get out of the bar scene merry-go-round. I know you can make a big change in your life, and someday you’ll thank me.”
With that golden nugget of advice, his mother gave him a finger wave and left the restaurant.
Ryan drained his water glass, signed the credit card slip, and left the tip. He crumpled up the napkin and tossed it on the table. What was wrong with doing the same thing over and over again?
Every morning he ate the same cereal, a bowl of Wheaties with a tablespoon of sugar. Every night, he did a hundred sit-ups and push-ups, stretched his hamstrings, calves, and quadriceps, then put on a set of headphones and visualized going through all his pitches while listening to “Pinball Wizard” by the Who.
After that, he showered, washed his hair, shaved, and ate another bowl of Wheaties, with exactly one tablespoon of sugar added, before brushing his teeth with a Sonicare electric toothbrush, exactly thirty seconds for each quadrant of his mouth, rinsed his mouth with a capful of mouthwash, plugged his ears with foam earplugs and went to sleep.
Same routine, even while on the road. His roommates knew not to bother him, and since he always slept alone, never with a woman he picked up, no one ever bothered him about doing the same thing every night.
Someone once said insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different result. He wasn’t expecting anything different, so he wasn’t insane.
Adding Jamie, Ben, and Drew to his life was different, but not insane. It required a change, though.
He turned one-eighty so fast, he almost knocked down a waiter. The busboy was clearing the table.
“Wait.” In two long strides, he was back. “Forgot something.”
Grabbing the napkin with the scribbles, he shrugged and shoved it into his pocket.
CHAPTER NINE
Jamie rushed around the kitchen, pasting sticky notes with reminders for her mother. While her mother, Doreen, was an experienced single mother, having raised Jamie all by herself, she wasn’t the most organized, and she never followed instructions. While Drew could tell the difference tween Cheddar cheese and American cheese, to Doreen, they were both orange, so she didn’t understand why he like one and hated the other.
Tonight, her mother was more concerned about her “maybe date” with Ryan Hudson than paying attention to the details required to get Drew through the night.
“Mom,” Jamie shouted, slightly annoyed. “Can we go over Drew’s schedule?”
Since she hadn’t heard from Ryan, Jamie decided to take Ben to the movies with Brok and his family. He’d told her Ryan was aware of their plans but hadn’t confirmed if he was going or not.
No big loss. She explained to Ben that today was not part of the special day at the ballpark, just movie night with friends, and he seemed okay with it.
Jamie went over her checklist, making sure to place every item Drew would need at the exact place. She laid his pajamas out on his bed and made sure his shampoo, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste and hand puppet to wash with were in his bucket. His bath toys were lined up on the side of the tub, and his towel hung over the toilet with his name right side up.
“Mommy, hurry or we’ll be late,” Ben said, following her around the small house. “Don’t forget to let Nana know Drew has to take his medicine and drink his milk before brushing his teeth. Not after. He hates the taste of toothpaste in his milk.”
“Got it.” She numbered the Post-Its so her mother could follow the exact sequence of steps and double-checked that she had everything covered. “Mom, can you come here? I have to show you something.”
The medicine was labeled and placed in a caddy in the refrigerator where she’d taped a note with a big arrow pointing to it. The sippy cups were arranged in a row on the kitchen island. One for dinner, another for medicine, and a third for cookies.
Her mother waddled through the kitchen door and tucked a wisp of flyaway hair over her ear. She yawned loudly and tugged at her loose sweat clothes. The shirt was stained already with spaghetti sauce, and there was a hole on the right knee of the pants. She’d gained weight over the years and was now wearing her dead husband’s clothes, but at least she was dressed for an evening with Drew, where she was likely to get splattered by thrown food or other substances.
“What’s the deal here?” Doreen picked up a banana and peeled it. “I’ve got Drew settled in front of the TV, watching baseball games.”
“Which game?” Ben asked. “Did you put on the one where Ryan pitched a no-hitter? That one’s Drew’s favorite.”
“That one was ten years ago,” Mom said with her mouth full of slimy banana. “I’m surprised the DVD still works. Actually, I put it onto one of the exhibition games going on right now.”
“That won’t work,” Jamie said, dropping her pen and notepads on the kitchen counter. “He’ll be stressed when it doesn’t go the way he thinks it’s going.”
Sure enough, a shriek came from the living room. “That supposed to be out. Strike three. Out!”
Jamie charged to the living room and switched off the TV. Drew was sitting on the couch in tears, throwing the baseball against his own chest and catching it.
Maybe she should forget about going to the movies for tonight. It was obvious Drew was going to have a difficult night. It wasn’t fair for her to go out while her mother struggled. If she couldn’t get him settled, she would have to bow out.
“Drew, baby, which game do you want to watch?” Jamie dug out several pre-recorded DVDs that her ex-husband had made back when they were dating. He’d been a big baseball fan and traded recordings with his accounting buddies. Fortunately, he left them behind once he realized Drew loved to watch old games.
“I want No Hit Hudson.” The boy blubbered, wiping the snot from his nose with the baseball.
Jamie grabbed a wipe from a box conveniently situated on the end table. “I’m going to wipe your face now. Remember, after every inning, you have to go potty with Nana.”
“I get a star.” Drew double-checked. “One for pee, and two for poop.”
“Got it.” She wiped his nose and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Extra stars for wiping.”
Ben put the DVD into the player. “Drew, you’re going to pitch like Ryan when y
ou grow big.”
“I grow big like Ryan.” Drew made muscles with his two puny biceps.
On the way back to the kitchen to explain Drew’s dinner preferences, Jamie whispered to her mother, “I don’t know if I should go out. Maybe you should take Ben to the movies.”
“Oh no, I can handle everything,” her mother insisted, tossing the banana peel into the trash. “Besides, Ben will be disappointed. You need one-on-one time with him, too.”
Guilt draped over Jamie’s shoulders. How could she have neglected Ben? “Okay, but don’t mention anything to Drew about Ryan not taking Ben to the movies or that we might never see him again. Ryan is like a character in a movie as far as Drew is concerned.”
“I don’t like how he dropped you flat,” Mother hissed, out of earshot of the boys “He had you on his social media fast enough.”
“He wasn’t obligated to follow up. The prize I won was a day at the ballpark with Ryan Hudson, and he delivered on it.” Jamie picked up the notepad. “I have the schedule for the evening. Drew is expecting pizza bagels and sweet potato fries. Make sure to cut the bagels into one-inch triangular pieces. It’s easier than getting perfect squares. I trained him to like triangles over squares for this very reason.”
“I’ve heard all this before.” Mom wiped her hands with a dishcloth. “Did you lay out the sippy cup you want him to use?”
“Yes, when he watches baseball, he has to have the Rattlers sippy cup. The one with the snake on it. Make sure the milk is cold, so don’t leave it out.”
“I’ve got this,” Mom said, pointing to the numbered sequence of bedtime steps. “You and Ben go ahead and have fun. Don’t think about us. Now, shoo, shoo.”
“Don’t forget to stay in the bathroom the entire time of his bath. Don’t leave for even a second, and give him his milk and medications before a cookie. He’s allowed one after he takes his meds, and then he must brush his teeth. Put a diaper on after his last toilet—”
Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3) Page 5