Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1) (33 page)

Sarah is still here, but leaving in two days to head back to Seattle and school. I’m going to miss having her around. Everything with her is easy and I wish things could be this way all the time. After our long talk the other night, I’m no clearer than I was before she got here. The only thing I can positively say is that Daisy and I happened at the wrong time in both of our lives.

“The car’s here,” Sarah says, breaking my reverie. I follow her out, opening the front door for her, and then the car door once we reach it. A few of the other guys will be there today, as well as the driver who was gracious enough to pick John up for the games. The service is a simple graveside ceremony according to the funeral director Sarah spoke with.

I look out of the black tinted windows, feeling like a piece of me is missing. At this point, I’m not sure how many pieces are left for Daisy to take. Over the past few days, things have been sort of a blur. I go to work, play the game and come home to find Sarah studying in my living room. We have a late dinner, talk and go to bed.

During each game, I’m looking behind the visitor dugout for Daisy, figuring she’d try to hold onto the recent memories of being here with her grandfather, but her seats remain empty. During one game, I freaked out when someone seat hopped and took hers. I had the usher remove them and send them back to their nosebleeds. I didn’t think it was right and clearly over stepped my position with the team, but I don’t care.

“We’re here,” Sarah says as she grabs my hand. I quickly let go, not wanting Daisy to see us holding hands. It means something different to me, but it won’t to Daisy. It doesn’t matter that we’re not together. She doesn’t need to think I’ve moved on. I haven’t and I don’t want to.

Sarah grabs the crook of my arm as we walk up the steep hill. My teammates, Kidd, Branch and Cross all follow behind me, along with Ryan Stone and his wife, Hadley Carter. I nod to Ryan, silently thanking him for attending. He didn’t know John and didn’t need to take time out of his day, or Hadley’s busy schedule, but he’s here to honor a life-long fan. That speaks volumes for our organization.

The Boston Renegades sit two rows behind Daisy. She doesn’t turn to see who is arriving; she keeps her focus on the casket in front of her. To the left stands the spray of flowers that the team sent with the words #1 Fan on the sash.

A few more people arrive, sitting in front of us and blocking my view of Daisy. When the minister arrives, he rests his hand on Daisy’s shoulder, making me wonder if this is the same man that presided over her parents and grandmother’s funerals when they passed. Do you keep someone like this in your contacts just in case?

The minister starts with words of wisdom and love, telling us that love is about forgiveness. Sarah pinches me, reminding me that she said the same thing the other night. I’d like to stand up and remind everyone it’s easy to say the word forgiveness but much harder to actually commit the act when something causes you so much pain. I want to go back to the day we met and have her tell me that she’s the damn blogger and let me make a decision whether or not to see her based off that. It’s easy to say now that I would because I’m in love with her, but that night at the burger place, maybe not.

I can honestly say, though, that she fascinated me enough the night I met her that I would’ve tried to find out what makes her tick. She’s had me on a string from the first time I saw her.

The minister asks if anyone would like to speak. I clear my throat and stand. As I walk by Daisy, I catch the slight intake of breath come from her. I offer her a smile, only to have her turn around and look behind her. When she faces forward, tears are streaming down her face - whether they’re fresh or not, I can’t tell. I
should
be sitting by her side through all of this. All she had to do was ask.

“I had the privilege of meeting John a few months ago and I’m sad to say I haven’t known him long enough. He was a true fan, not only of the game of baseball, but of my personal game. He had the ability to turn what I would consider a fair game into a good game, highlighting the hidden stats of my teammates and myself.

“My short time with John will not be for naught. I’ll take with me, and cherish, everything he taught me about life, love and baseball.”

I hesitate for a moment, seeking Daisy’s request to sit by her, but she still doesn’t make eye contact with me. Her head is down and her fingers fiddle with the tissue in her hands. When I sit down, Sarah reaches for my hand and I let her take it. I have nothing to lose at this point.

A few other people get up and speak, most of them older. They recount stories from Daisy’s childhood with her parents and her grandmother, and promise to be there for her. I want to stand up and ask who is going to open their house to her because she has to move now. Where does she have to go?

When the service is over and everyone is leaving, I remain seated. “I’ll meet you in the car,” I tell Sarah who kisses me on my cheek before she leaves, handing me the ball that I put in her purse earlier. I don’t want to cause any more pain for Daisy, but I have something for John.

I go to this casket and set the signed ball from the current roster on top of his casket. I don’t know if it’ll make it inside, but I hope so.

“It didn’t take you long to move on.”

Her voice catches me off guard. I breathe in deeply and remind myself that she’s hurting and it’s easy to assume that Sarah and I are together. I decide its best that I sit down next to her so she can hear me clearly without tuning me out.

“That’s Sarah, my ex. You know about her because I told you everything about our relationship. When you didn’t show up in Cincinnati my mom knew something was up and called her. She was sitting on my steps when I came back from your apartment.”

“Oh yes, she’s your road trip hook-up.”

“That’s not fair, Daisy. I know you’re hurting right now, but Sarah isn’t to blame and neither am I.”

“You went to her apartment in Seattle?” Her broken voice tears me up on the inside. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and turn my head so I’m looking at her.

“I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now, but yes, I did. You and I had stopped talking. I was pissed.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

I shake my head. “No, but we did some other stuff until I said your name and she walked out on me. I spent the rest of the night telling my ex that I was in love with this beautiful, smart and crazy girl with an adorable accent who knew how to put me in my place.”

A sob overtakes her body. I try to reach for her but she shies away. Instead I pull her hand into mine and sit back. This should’ve been my spot from the get-go, but she refuses to allow me back in.

“Daisy, I realize this may not be the best time, but I need to say this to you. I want to figure things out between us because I’m in love with you. If you don’t love me, let me know, but if you do and want us to have a future, you know where to find me.”

I stand up and kiss her on her forehead, lingering there as long as possible before I leave her to say a private goodbye to her grandfather.

EDavenport
@TheRealEthanD – 1 hour

@BoReRenBlog I miss you

I
t’s been a month since I saw Daisy and I have a feeling that was my last time. Each home game, I walk out of the dugout looking for her, only to find her seats empty. They remain vacant during the game, diminishing any hope I have of ever seeing her again.

When I left her at the cemetery, I thought for sure she’d call or show up. I even left my door unlocked a few times hoping I’d come home from a road trip to find her living there. It’s been a letdown each and every time. I’ve tried calling her. For a while her phone went to voicemail after four or five rings until one day the call didn’t even go through. I don’t know if she changed her number because she’s sick of me calling or what.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is her blog. It’s still up and running, reminding us of just how poorly we’re doing this year. I’ve kept her secret from the team. I figured if she wants to tell everyone that she’s the BoRe Blogger, she can do that when she’s ready. It’s not my news to share.

We’re in the middle of a long home stand, ten games until we hit the road again. The Cleveland Indians are in town and after my last at bat, we’re leading three to nothing. I thought that after the funeral my batting average would continue to suffer, but it hasn’t. I’m currently batting .320, the highest in the American League, but not in the Majors. A couple of guys in the National League are still kicking my ass. Also kicking my ass is my nervous tick. It’s back with a vengeance since Daisy and I broke up. Who knew she was the cure and now that she’s gone, it’s something I have to continue to live with?

One thing I have learned from Daisy is that she was accurate in her assumptions. I spent hours pouring over her blog, reading the shit that she was writing only to find out most of it is true. Cooper Bailey
is
coming to Boston, and soon. No one knows what his position will be, as there’s still no word on what’s going on with Bainbridge.

Jasper Jacobson is currently up to bat. The rumors about him not being happy in Boston are true, which makes things a bit awkward in the clubhouse. He wants a trade, but Stone hasn’t done anything about it yet. There’s speculation that Jacobson might be involved with Bainbridge’s wife, but no one’s talking.

Jacobson is facing a full count and the fans are rallying behind him. We’re all standing in support. We need a win; after our last two games being losses, we need some happy. He swings and connects with the ball, sending the right fielder to the warning track. We lean back and pray as the right fielder jumps, missing the ball by an inch. We run out and meet him at home plate, slapping him on the back and trying to show him that we’re still his team despite everything going on with his personal life.

With no outs, all we have to do is add more runs. Bryce Mackenzie is up next with Travis Kidd on deck.

“Someone’s dogging ya,” Kidd says as he nods behind me. I can hear my name being called, but I don’t want to look because he’s likely up to something. The fact that my name is being called means nothing, since the kids are always trying to get us to sign things, give them a bat during the game or even look at them. It was a thrill when it happened to me so I know what it’s like to get attention from your favorite player, let alone any player.

“Just a fan, I’m assuming,” I say, shrugging him off and focusing on Mackenzie’s at bat.

He shakes his head and starts laughing. “A super fan,” he says, nodding behind me again. “You might want to turn around.”

“You might want to pay attention to the game. Mackenzie could hit a foul ball and smack you in the tallywacker.”

“Jesus Davenport, just turn the hell around.”

I roll my eyes and finally give in, but only halfheartedly. I look over my left shoulder and see no one calling me and over my right to find the same thing.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kidd swings the bat a few times before he stops because Mackenzie has a hit and is now on first base. “Turn all the way around, Davenport. Stop being a bitch.”

I do as he says and I’m met with a pair of green eyes that I have burnt into my memory. She’s sitting behind our dugout in the center seat. She stands and points to her shirt. The front of it says, “I’m sorry”. I can’t help the stupid ass grin that is plastered all over my face.

I lean forward, resting my hands on the edge of the dugout. “Are you busy after the game?”