Sitting
around watching Trent's family eat dinner made me think about my own family. It
was just my mother, father, John and I, but somehow we were never able to get
our schedules together to share a meal. On the other hand, Trent's family was
huge. There were twelve people squished together around the main dining table
and then another fourteen people spread out around the house eating. Twenty six
people in all. Some in college, some working in DC, some visiting from Idaho
yet they all found a way to be together.
~~~
"It's
getting late. I better get Mahogany home," Trent said standing. His mother
had just brought out a huge pineapple upside down cake and she actually looked
personally offended that he was leaving.
"You
mean she's not staying for Thanksgiving?" Jennifer asked.
"Yeah,
and we could use her for the big game tomorrow," Jessica added.
"What
game?" I asked.
"This
was just a last minute visit. I'm sure she has plans for tomorrow," Trent
said.
"Actually,
I don't.” I reached for another roll. "My brother is in California with
his in-laws. My dad is with his new family and my mom doesn't eat."
"What
do you mean she doesn't eat?" Trent's dad asked.
"I
mean, she doesn't eat. She's been on a diet for about thirty-five years."
I could have brought up the fact that I usually spent Thanksgiving with my ex-boyfriend
and that I really didn't want to be alone, but I decided to let it be.
"Well,
then it's settled. Mahogany is staying the night." Trent's mom said
setting down the cake in the middle of the table.
"I
don't want to impose," I said secretly hoping they wouldn’t change their
mind.
"Nonsense,"
she said "You and Trent can stay in his old room."
Trent
turned bright red.
"Uh, mom.
It's not like that.
We're just friends."
"She
can stay in our room," Jessica said. "We're going over to Tiffany's
house. But first, she's got to braid my hair as well."
~~~
"Sorry
about that," Trent said as he showed me upstairs to the twins' room.
"What?"
"My family.
They can be kind of
overwhelming. If you want to go home I can take you. Don't feel obligated to
stay or anything."
"No,
it's fine. I kind of like it here."
Trent
smiled shyly and tried to hide it by turning away.
"Well,
here's the room. Excuse the mess. My sisters are pigs. But the sheets are clean
on the bed on the left. There's something for you to sleep in there," he
said pointing to the top of the bed. "Uh, the bathroom is two doors down
and the linen closet is next to it." Trent stood there awkwardly crossing
and then uncrossing his arms. "I'm seriously sorry about this. I'll take
you home any time you want. I really didn't know they'd make you stay."
"Trent,
it's
fine. I'm actually intrigued by this big
game."
"Really?
I didn't know you liked
sports."
"There's
a lot you don't know about me." That came out a lot more flirtatious than
I expected. "Uh, good night," I said, stepping into the room and
closing the door behind me.
~~~
I
awoke to the smell of pancakes. I thought I was dreaming at first. I don't
think I had ever woken to the smell of pancakes in my life. I stumbled down the
stairs in my borrowed
Tinkerbell
pajamas so happy
that I didn't have to fuss with my hair. The corn rows had held up nicely even
without my satin cap that I usually sleep in every night.
"Wow,
you're up early," Trent's mom said as I sat down at the breakfast table.
"How
could anyone sleep with this glorious smell in the air?" I asked.
She
smiled and set a plate of pancakes in front of me.
"Well,
you ask Mr. Bishop that when he wakes up in two hours," she said with a
laugh.
"Coffee?"
I
kind of grunted a yes as my mouth was too full of the most wonderfully,
buttery,
banana
chocolate chip pancakes.
"Trent
is already out for his morning jog."
"He
jogs?"
"Yep, every morning."
"That
explains it."
"Explains
what?"
Crap!
Did I say that out loud? I was thinking that the daily jog explained his
amazing body but I sure wasn't about to say that to his mother.
"These
are incredible, Mrs. Bishop," I said trying to change the subject.
"Oh
call me Sheila, dear."
Sheila
sat down across from me and put her hand over mine. "Can I tell you
something?"
I
nodded.
"I
just want to thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For what you've done for
Trent.
He's
like a different person now."
"Sheila,
I had very little to do with that," I said.
"You
have a lot more to do with it than you know."
Faux
Hawk: A faux Mohawk is acquired in natural hair by pining or braiding up the
both sides of the hair
~~~
Hair
tip #18: After cornrows, you can partially unbraid the hair into a nice faux
hawk. Use a moisturizer as you unbraid to give your hair a silky finish.
~~~
The
big game turned out to be a softball game which I was relieved about for two
reasons. One, I was happy it wasn't football. I didn't want to spend the
morning imagining Trent tackling me. Second of all, I made the General Motors
All-Star team in softball two years in a row while I was in college. Yeah, I
knew my way around a softball field. But not wanting to seem conceited, I
didn't mention any of this to the Bishops before the game.
"Okay,
kids," Mr. Bishop said in the dugout of the neighborhood field. "We
are
gonna
win this year. This is
our
year."
Jennifer
rolled her eyes and said, "That's what you said last year."
"And the year before.
And the year
before.
And the year before," her twin added.
"I
take it you don't win very often?" I asked.
"That's
an understatement, dear," Sheila said. "We haven't
beat
the
Bachermans
in eight years."
"Yeah,
and we only won that year because Angie
Bacherman
went into labor on the field and they had to forfeit the game," Jessica
added.
"And
now, eight year old Sam helps his family kick our ass each year."
"Jennifer
Bishop, watch your language," her mother said.
"Well,
if you lose every year why do you continue to play?" I asked.
Everyone
in the family slowly turned their heads to Bob Bishop.
"What?
It's tradition. We have to play," he said.
That's
when the bickering started. I couldn't help but smile as twelve Bishops
simultaneously complained about softball as if it was the greatest evil on the
planet. It was kind of cute. Even though they were all yelling and screaming at
each other, I could still tell they all really loved each other.
Trent
grabbed my elbow and pulled me off to the side. "I'm really sorry about
this," he said. "It's just a stupid game. You don't have to
play."
"What
position are you?" I asked.
"Um,
short stop." He seemed surprised by my question. Did he think I didn't
know my softball positions?
"I
want to pitch, can I pitch?" I asked.
Once
again, complete shock. "Um, Jen usually pitches."
"Are
you kidding me?" Jen said out of the blue. I don't even know how she heard
us over the family bickering, but somehow she did. "I only volunteer to
pitch so that I have to do less running. It's all yours, Mahogany," she
said handing me her glove and the ball. Then she sat down on the bench and
pulled her hat over her head.
I
turned to go warm up when Trent grabbed my arm again. "Is there something
you're not telling me?" he asked.
"Like
what?" I gave him the most innocent look I could muster, but he didn't buy
it.
"You
played softball in college or something didn't you?"
I
nodded.
"General Motors All-Star pitcher two years in a
row."
Trent's
lips spread into a wide, brilliant smile. It was beautiful. I was literally
momentarily mesmerized by it. "Well, let's go kick some
Bacherman
butt, shall we?"
~~~
For
some reason, the
Bachermans
had home field advantage
even though they literally lived across the street from the Bishops. Maybe it
alternated each year or maybe whoever won the year before got to be the home
team. I didn't know and I didn't ask. I spent the top of the first inning
studying my opponents as they fielded their positions. It was pretty easy to
see who the real athletes were and who would be my biggest challenge.
Unfortunately,
I didn't get long to study as their pitcher made quick work of the Bishops.
They were out in seconds.
As
I made my way to the mound, no one on the
Bacherman
team paid much attention to me. I thought I would at least get a few odd looks.
I mean I was the only black girl on their team. I looked around for a second.
Okay, I was the only black girl at the field.
Period.
But I guessed the
Bachermans
were so confident they
were going to win that they didn't really care who was on the Bishop team. That
was until I threw out my first pitch.
I
had to admit that I felt like a rock star with my faux hawk as I stood on the
pitcher’s mound. I was like the female Brian Wilson. I probably should have
started out slow, but I was so excited to play that I brought the heat on the
first pitch. Angie
Bacherman
didn't even swing. It
was like she wasn't even sure what had happened.
There
was a momentary silence as both the
Bachermans
and
the Bishops stared at me in shock. Suddenly the
Bacherman
father burst onto the field followed by half the
Bacherman
clan.
"Who
is this? She can't play!" he yelled. "This is a family game and she's
not family."
He
had a point there. I wasn't family. I hadn't even thought of that.
"She
is family," Trent's dad answered. "She's Trent's girlfriend."
I
started to correct him when I felt Jessica jab me in the side. "She's more
than a girlfriend," Jessica added. "They're getting married."
"Well,
we all know how that turned out the last time," a teenage
Bacherman
said with a laugh.
I
glanced over at Trent. He was biting his lip so hard I think I saw a drop of
blood drip out.
"Peter,
you little dick," Jessica said throwing her glove at the smart mouthed
kid. Then she lunged for him. Thankfully, Sheila held her back before she was
able to throw a punch.
"A
fiancé is not family. Not legally," Mr.
Bacherman
said once the fight between Carson and Jessica was under control.
"And
neither is an ex-husband," Sheila said. "Or did Todd and Samantha get
back together."
"She's
right," Trent's dad said. "If Todd gets to play, then Mahogany gets
to play."
Mr.
Bacherman
gritted his teeth and then stormed off the
field followed by the rest of the
Bacherman
clan.
"Trent,
you okay?" I asked as he walked past me to his position. He didn't answer
at first so I grabbed his arm and said it again.
He
took a deep breath and stared to where Peter was coming up to bat. Finally he
said, "Let's just kill these sons of bitches."
"Well,
all right then," I said. I decided not to remind him that he needed to
make a deposit into his jar after that request.
~~~
‘Kill
them’ is exactly what we did. After five innings, we hadn't let the
Bacherman's
score a single run. I even struck out their
ringer Todd who apparently was some sort of high school star twenty years ago.
In all, I had struck out eleven batters and Trent had assisted in two double
plays. We were a good team. On the field, that is.
I
could sense the
Bacherman
frustration. I felt at any
moment they were going to explode or something. And at the top of the sixth,
that something happened. The score was still zero to zero. They had a pretty
good pitcher as well.
Vivi
Felton was a
Bacherman
cousin and she was apparently attending college
on a softball scholarship just like I had done. She was definitely good, but by
the sixth inning, I had her pitch figured out. As evidenced by the double I
hit.
Sheila
and Jessica hit after me and they both struck out. So it was up to Trent. He
had gotten three hits already, but it hadn't been enough to score. This time,
if he got a hit, I would be heading for home no matter what.
When
Trent hit a line drive down the third base line, I took off toward home. And if
we were playing a regular friendly game of softball, I would have made it
easily. But since Todd was playing left field, I knew I would have to push it.
I had seen how great his arm was throughout the game.
Just
as I had suspected, the ball came whizzing past my head and straight to Peter
at home plate. But since it wasn't a force out, he would have to tag me. I knew
we needed this run so I did what any seasoned athlete would do. I barreled into
home feet first and tried to avoid the tag.
Peter
was so surprised that I kept running at top speed that he accidently dropped
the ball. I was safe without question and the Bishops had their first run of
the game.
Unfortunately,
when I tried to stand up, I couldn't exactly walk anymore.