Out of My League (40 page)

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Authors: Dirk Hayhurst

BOOK: Out of My League
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“Whatever,” he said. “Get some sleep, tomorrow’s a big day.”
Chapter Seventy-four
It was a beautiful day for a wedding. The landscape of the Holden Arboretum had put on its best autumn colors in honor of the event. We wanted the whole day to feel like a party with friends plus a wedding, not a formal ceremony. There was no pomp or pretense anywhere to be found, not in the homemade center pieces, the buckets of iced IBC root beer, or the casual way my dad, wearing nothing but blue jeans and his least stained T-shirt, milled around the place talking to Bonnie’s dad about which band was more significant to the era they grew up in.
So far Bonnie’s and my plan was going perfectly. In fact, in light of the extensive plotting we did to map out exit strategies should either of our families have a meltdown, the smoothness with which things were running was unexpected. My mom followed Bonnie’s mom around, making sure things were getting done. My brother talked with Bonnie’s cousin about machines they had ripped apart and put back together. My groomsmen did their best to put up with Bonnie’s Army-proud brother’s promises of gutting me should I hurt her. And over it all you could hear my dad’s laughter at the recitation of Bonnie’s dad’s favorite e-mail forwards. Families are so cute when they behave.
I stood on the bridge in the middle of the arboretum—far enough away to watch it all but not participate. There was a cone of silence around me once again, not unlike the one around me before my first start as a rookie in the Show. This was my Big Day, and everyone was giving me my space so I could get into the “I do” zone.
Peering over the railing I stared down at my reflection in the pool below. I was wearing a white tuxedo with a white vest and a white tie. I even wore white Chuck Taylors, special-ordered with the date, OCT 5TH, 2008, stitched across the heel. The reflection staring back up at me was a man I didn’t know a year ago. He was one with a new life built from his own two hands, and a few lucky breaks. He was a big leaguer, a minor leaguer, afraid, and courageous. He was a man with new reasons and new confidence.
“What you looking at?” came a soft voice from behind.
I turned to see Bonnie, walking up the bridge. She was breathtaking in her white dress. Her was hair done up and a pink daisy was tucked behind one ear. She had a pink ribbon wrapped around her waist and tied in the back like a bow, as if she were a gift that was about to be given to me.
“You,” I said, staring at her. “You look amazing.”
We’d hired photographers to follow us around and do casual shots so we could capture the action as it happened. Presently, they were capturing what could only be described as awe over the woman I would be doing naughty things with come nightfall.
“Do you like the dress?”
“It’s perfect.”
“You look good, too.”
“Thanks, check out my shoes.” I turned around so she could see the date-stitched backs.
“Awesome!”
Bonnie came over and kissed me. Cameras clicked to immortalize it.
“So who are all these people?” asked Bonnie, pointing at the pack of guests watching us from afar.
“That little guy there who looks like a really excited lawn gnome, that’s Don. He’s one of my old high school coaches. He gets me leads on places to throw in the winter. Next to him, the guy with the thin-rimmed glasses and slicked-back hair, that’s Adam, my”—I corrected myself—“
our
agent. That couple next to him, the auburn-haired lady with the warm smile standing next to the dignified gentleman wearing high-water pants, that’s Dee and Steve Farber. They were my host parents one year during college summer league. And that foursome your brother is showing his knife to, they are my best men, Josh, Chad, Tim, and Lavern.”
“Is that your other grandparents?” Bonnie asked, gesturing to the senior couple who just came in.
“Yep. She’s much nicer than the grandma you met. Just don’t get her grandma talking about religion or you’ll get letters of handwritten King James scripture about why the world is going to hell for not interpreting the Bible correctly.”
“Oh no,” said Bonnie. “They’re talking to my grandparents. My grandma is in the Church of Scientology. You have no idea how many times I’ve been told that I could heal myself by performing my own miracles. If they find out what the other believes—”
“I got it covered,” I said, putting a hand up to stop Bonnie from worrying herself. I whistled at one of my groomsmen. He turned to face me, and I went through a series of signs, not unlike a third base coach would give to a base runner. He nodded, signaled back, and went over to the two elder couples where he cordially broke between them, asking them effusive questions about what they did during the Great Depression and so on.
“How did you do that?” Bonnie looked at me.
“I can’t tell the other team my signs,” I said. “It’s a rule.”
“But we’re on the same team.”
“Not yet, not for at least another half hour. I can’t take any chances. I can’t be too sure you’re not going to back out on me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. My parents spent too much on this, they’d kill me.”
“Are you sure? This is your last chance to run away and pursue that no-strings-attached life as a rodeo clown you’ve always wanted.”
“There is no place I’d rather be than here. What about you?”
“Hmmm ...” I looked back into the reflection in the pond. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. So much of my life has changed in the last few weeks. Today, things are about to change again. Big changes.”
Bonnie took my arm and looked into the water with me.
“I’m not the same man I was when this season started. My reasons for doing things aren’t the same. I’ve learned that the reason a person starts something isn’t always the reason they finish it. But”—I looked into Bonnie’s anxious brown eyes—“I know the reason I’m going to finish this with you. I know the reason I’m going to push confidently into the future with you. I know why I’ll put you before me in happiness and behind me in danger and love you through all of life’s imperfections. Because you love me, and that’s all the reason I’ll ever need.”
Bonnie kissed me, sincere, intense, and long enough for the crowd across the way to shout, “You’re not married yet!”
“But we’ll be soon,” said Bonnie, softly, looking only at me. “Are you ready?”
“Honey,” I said, “I’ve been ready all season.”
 
Bonnie and I got married at sunset on an autumn day in front of a small group of friends and family. We cut a cake we made ourselves—I decorated it, complete with two Garfooses kissing on top. We danced our first dance to Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together.” We kissed when toasted, I gave a speech, and my dad told me he was proud of me. Then, under a shower of rice and flower petals, we ran to Bonnie’s car and drove off into a future as bright as we decided to make it.
Chapter Seventy-five
“Last night was amazing,” said Bonnie, from the passenger seat, her head resting on my shoulder.
“What can I say, I’m a natural.”
“This morning was amazing too.” She smiled deviously and leaned over to kiss me as I drove our “Just Married” mobile south through Cincinnati toward our destination—a luxury cabin in Tennessee. The cabin was fully loaded with granite countertops, leather couches, big screens, a hot tub, a pool table, and a whole slew of other things we could use to practice our glorious new discovery of marital consummation on.
“Just think, we can start every day that way from now on, if we want.”
“It beats the hell out of Folgers coffee!” said Bonnie.
“Listen to you. I’ve created a monster!”
“So, now that I’m a big league wife, should I get fake boobs?”
“Normally I’d jump all over a sound investment like that, but considering my less-than-inspiring debut with the big club, we may want to hold off.”
“Do you think they’ll release you?”
“They could do anything. Designate me, demote me, or release me. Maybe something I’ve never heard of. I don’t know all their options, to be honest. That’s why I have Adam.”
“The Padres will call you before they do something, right?”
“Nope. I’m bought property. They don’t have to ask for my consent. They could have released me right now and I’d be the last to know it.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” I said. “This is our time, don’t worry about baseball.” I reached over and took her hand. I ran my fingers over her ring. “Remember the fight my parents got into the day they first met you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were going to dump me that day, I really did.”
“It was a crazy day”—she squeezed my hand—“but it wasn’t the first time I’d seen something like that. Actually, that’s the day I think I really knew you were the one.”
I glanced curiously at her from the corner of my eye.
“The people in my family aren’t perfect, you know,” she said.
I snorted in protest. I’d only ever known her parents to be model citizens.
“Yeah, I know my mom and dad seem perfect, but they’ve had their issues. My dad grew up very similarly to yours. He was around alcohol abuse and violence most of his young life. His parents had issues worse than yours, and he and his brother never got along very well. My mom’s mom was abusive. She made my mom feel so terrible about herself it still bothers her to this day. When my parents got married, they wanted to be something different, just like you. That’s what I love about you: you want to be your own person and you’re willing to endure for it.”
“I’m trying,” I said. “But I’ll never be able to separate myself from what I’ve come from.”
“And I don’t think you should try. You know, there is one thing about your family that I really admire,” continued Bonnie.
“What’s that?”
“They aren’t afraid to say what they feel. They may not say it tactfully, but they express it. I think that’s one of the reasons they are still together this day, after all they’ve been through, and I think it’s one of the reasons our relationship will work.”
I smiled, looking down the road and into the future. We were crossing the border of Cincinnati, heading into Kentucky. The Reds’ stadium was disappearing into the background, along with Ohio.
“So, now that it’s all said and done, am I still the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” asked Bonnie.
I looked over at Bonnie, who was hanging on my response. Among all the other firsts of our married life, this was the first loaded question a husband must answer properly for the sake of his wife.
I stared at her blankly. “Ask me again in a year and I’ll let you know.”
She slugged me.
“My dad would be proud to see us continuing the fine tradition of family violence.”
“You earned that one.”
“Of course you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Satisfied, Bonnie put away her fists and started to bridge the center console for high-speed smooches, when my phone, sitting in one of the car’s cup holders, vibrated from an incoming call. Spare change rattled like jingle bells as it shook, displaying an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hello, Dirk?”
“Yes, this is him.”
“Hey, Dirk.” He introduced himself as one of the assistant Padre GMs, someone I never knew was in the organization until today. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m on my way to my honeymoon. Just got married yesterday,” I said proudly. Then I looked over at Bonnie and mouthed the words,
the Padres.
Her eyes lit up.
“Congratulations!” he said. “Well, I won’t take up your time then. I just wanted to call you and let you know we took you off the forty-man roster and designated you for assignment.”
“Oh.” I took a big breath. “What a great way to start my honeymoon,” I said with a halfhearted laugh. “I guess I knew this would happen. Gotta get guys out in the big leagues if you want to stay there, huh?” Bonnie was locked on to me as I spoke. I pointed to myself then sharply pointed downward to fill her on the particulars.
“Well, we felt like you could pitch, and wanted to keep you on the Portland roster. We were hoping you would make the transaction smoothly, but you’ve been claimed by another team.”
“What?” I slowed the car down abruptly. Bonnie white-knuckled her armrest.
“You’ve been acquired by the Blue Jays.”
“I’m not a Padre anymore?”
“Correct. Your contract has been picked up by the Jays.”
“Wh-Wh-What do I do now?”
“Someone from the Jays will call you shortly to fill you in.”
“Who?”
“The person I talked to was an assistant GM, Alex Anthopou-lis.”
“I’m sorry, did you say Alex Bartakomous?”
“Anthopolous,” he repeated. “He’ll call you soon.”
“Is there anything else I should do?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“Okay. Um.” I wasn’t sure how to end the call. “Thank you?”
“Thank you, and best of luck in your career. Oh, and enjoy your honeymoon!”
The line went dead, and just like that, my time with the Padres was over. Six years of my life concluded in five minutes via cell phone chatter with a stranger on the highways of Kentucky. All the guys I’d known for so long, all the towns and the teams and the memories—all of it—over, like someone just hit the SELL button on a stock.
Stupefied, I looked over to Bonnie, who was rigid and gasping for details.
“Canada,” I said, stunned. “We’re going to Canada.”

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