The Perfect Game (34 page)

“Promise what?” I tested.

“I promise that if you want to leave, we will. Even though you won’t want to leave at all because these seats are choice. You can probably high-five your friend if you want to.”

My legs shook as Joey took my hand, leading me toward the blue and orange gate. Security checked my bag before ushering me through in a slightly less friendly way than I was used to. New Yorkers are a little more brash.

We walked down the stairs toward the field. I could tell by Joey’s pace that we weren’t stopping anytime soon. My stomach knotted up while my heart struggled to remain consistently beating. I refused to look around for Jack, terrified at how my body would react. 

When he stopped at the very front row, he turned around and threw out his arms. “Well? What do you think? Pretty great, right?” he asked, clearly proud of his seat-purchasing ability.

“
Uh-huh. They’re really close to the field,” I said between laboring breaths, my gaze desperately pinned to his face. 

“Are you okay?” He put his hand on my shoulder and I winced.

“I need to get a drink.”

“I’ll get it for you,” he offered, his face creased with worry.

“No, that’s okay. I need to use the restroom too. I’ll be right back.” I tried to force a smile, but my lips felt broken as I rushed back up the stairs and out of view.

I sprinted to the closest bathroom, locking the stall door behind me as my upper body crumpled. With my head between my knees, I began rocking back and forth.

Stop it. You
’
re actin
g like an idiot. Jack won’t
see you. He never looks up in the stands. He doesn
’
t even like you anymore, so stop freaking out. It
’
s time you moved on with your life and got o
ver Jack Carter once and for all. You have got to stop thinking about him because he is clearly not thinking about you.

I nodded as my own thoughts struck a chord within me. I could do this. I could be strong. I could watch Jack play baseball and not want to die from it.

I think.

A few more calming breaths and I unlocked the latch, walking out to face my reflection in the mirror. I wiped at the smears of mascara under my eyes and washed my hands under the running cold water. 

I stopped at a concession stand to buy a bottle of water before heading back down to our dugout level seats.
Joey smiled as he caught sight of me, his bright white teeth a welcome sign to anyone.

“You okay?” He stood up and took my elbow in concern before sitting down again as I plopped into my seat.

“Much better, thanks,” I answered, taking a drink of water.

“So which one’s your friend from school? Can you tell?” 

If seeing Jack didn’t kill me tonight, this guy’s questions were sure going to. I couldn’t really get mad at Joey, he didn’t know any better. It’s not like I’d told him Jack was my ex-boyfriend whom I’d given my entire heart to and he’d given it back to me in pieces. Want a sliver? 

I squinted my eyes and pretended to look around the field for Jack. “I can’t tell, sorry. They all look alike in their uniforms.” I bit my bottom lip. 

“Do you know if he starts? Or what position he plays?”

“I have no idea, honestly.”

“Well, what did he play in college?” He kept pushing questions at me and I wanted to scream.

“He was a pitcher,” I replied, forcing back the burning in my chest with another gulp of water.

“Ahhhh, I see.” Joey nodded. “Then he might not even play tonight. I’m sorry if he doesn’t.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t planning on watching him anyway. You forced me here, remember?” I attempted to smile and he tossed an arm around my shoulder.

“You haven’t even told me your friend’s name. What is it?”

Jesus. This guy was relentless
. 

“Jack Carter.” I almost stumbled on his name. I hadn’t said it out loud to anyone in almost six months, not counting Dean or Melissa.

“You know Jack Carter?
” His jaw dropped before he continued. “He’s an incredible player! And he’s starting tonight.”

“Really? He’s starting?” I braced myself.

“Yeah! Pretty cool, huh?” He leaned his head back before tossing some peanuts in his mouth. 

By the time the game started, my body was filled with so much anxiety that I kept shifting in my seat. I grinned as Jack walked onto the field, pleased to see that he still sported the number twenty-three on the back of his jersey. 

“That’s your boy, right?” Joey said, pointing at Jack as he made his way to the mound for pre-game warm-ups.

Was.

“That’s him.” My eyes followed the lines of Jack’s new uniform, noting the muscle he’d gained in his legs and chest. He took my breath away. 

Jack stood on the mound, every motion and move he made careening through me with familiarity. The fluid movements of his body—the way it bent, curved, kicked, and then released the ball—destroyed me emotionally. 

Tears started to burn my eyes. “I can’t be here. I have to go.” I bolted from my seat, shooting up the cement stairs.

“Cassie! Cassie, wait!” Horrified at the volume at which Joey shouted my name, I stopped dead in my tracks and turned slowly to face him. Then I made the mistake of glancing at the field.

Jack’s eyes were focused on me, the look on his face unlike any expression I’d ever seen on him before. My hand flew to my mouth as Joey reached me, placing his arm protectively around me. I noticed Jack’s jaw working as he dropped his head and refocused his attention toward the batter’s box.

“What’s going on, Cassie?” Joey asked, his arm still circled around my waist. 

“Jack and I used to date.” I pursed my lips together and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Was it serious?” His voice sounded confused but curious.

“It was.” I took a quick breath and opened my eyes, and looked squarely into his. “But it didn’t end well. I’m sorry, Joey, I should have told you.”

“You’re not obligated to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. You basically told me earlier that you didn’t want to come, but I didn’t listen.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I tilted my head to one side and he rubbed my neck.

“Look, Cassie, I like you. I’d still like to take you out. But I promise, no more baseball games.” He threw up his hands in a surrender pose. 

I snickered. “That sounds nice. But right now I really want to go home. Would you mind dropping me off?”

“Of course not. Come on.” Joey reached for my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine as he guided me away from the stadium and Jack. I climbed the stairs behind him grimly, the look I’d seen on Jack’s face running circles in my already fragile mind. 

TWENTY-THREE

After Joey dropped me off, I ran upstairs and slammed my apartment door, tossing my body like a rag doll onto the gently-used couch I’d purchased as soon as I arrived in
New York
. I cried into the velvet-like cushion, my tears soaking in as I reached for my cell phone.

“Yo,” Melissa answered, rowdy cheers screaming in the background.

“Melis?” I choked out.

“Cass? What’s wrong? Shit, I can’t hear anything. Hold on a sec, ’K?” She didn’t really ask. “Excuse me. I said excuse me, move please. Ugh. Cass? Cassie, can you hear me?”

The noise faded into the background with each word she said. “Oh my God, Melissa. I saw Jack tonight. He saw me. It was horrible.” The words tumbled from my lips. 

“What do you mean? Slow down and tell me everything.”

“I finally agreed to go out with Joey from work. He’s super nice, by the way, but anyway. I guess he overheard me talking to someone about how I was good friends with a baseball player in college and how that player was on the Diamondbacks. Well, Joey thought it would be sweet to surprise me—”

“Oh no, he didn’t. This guy needs a Cassie 101 lesson,” she interrupted.

“Anyway, so he won’t tell me where we’re going and then we pull up at the baseball stadium because they’re playing Jack’s team and Jack was warming up and I lost it, Melissa. I fucking lost it.” I covered my eyes with one hand.

“Go on.”

“So I practically ran from my seat and Joey screamed my name. I mean, he shouted it so loud I think the people in space heard!”

“Oh my God.” Melissa sounded horrified.

“I turned around and Jack was just staring at me with this look on his face.”

“Oh. My. God.” 

“I’ve never seen that look on his face before. I think he hates me.” I sobbed into the phone, wishing she was next to me.

“He doesn’t hate you. Stop saying that,” she chastised, her voice irritated. 

“You didn’t see his face or his eyes. What do I do? Should I text him? Should I do nothing?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m so tired of doing nothing when it comes to him. For the last six months, I’ve just accepted that he hasn’t tried to talk to me. But the whole time I’m sitting here going insane trying to figure out why. I know I could end all my suffering by picking up the phone and talking to him. But do I do that? No, because that’s what a normal, sane person would do. And clearly, I’m neither.”

“I think you should text him. Or call. But you’re right. You should say something. This has got to stop between you two. Either work it out, or give each other closure and move the hell on.”

The word
closure
caused my insides to twist again. “I don’t want closure. I don’t want to move on.”

“I know you don’t,” she agreed calmly, “but this thing between the two of you…whatever it is…I know it’s not good for you. I don’t give a fuck if it’s good for him.”

“Okay, well, I think I’ll call him while he’s still playing and leave him a voice mail.”

“Wimp.”

“I know, but that way the ball’s in his court.”

“Let me know what happens. Love you.” She made a kissy sound into the phone before hanging up, and I dialed Jack’s number.

Straight to voice mail. “Hey, Jack, it’s me…Cassie. I just wanted to apologize for the craziness at the game tonight. It’s sort of a long story, but I…” I paused, my chest deflating. “I just miss you.”

He didn’t call back.

*****

Two weeks passed since the game which Melissa and I now referred to as “the incident” whenever it was discussed.

My doorman’s kind and raspy voice blared through the speaker box in my apartment. “Miss Andrews, there’s a package down here for you. Do you want me to bring it up, or would you like to come get it?”

“Can you bring it up, Fred? I’d really appreciate it.” I released the button before quickly pressing it again. “Unless you’re busy, then I can come down. Whatever is more convenient for you, Fred. Thanks.”

“Okay, Miss Andrews. I’ll be up soon.”

I plopped back onto my couch and continued to watch TV until the doorbell rang. I opened it to see Fred, dressed in his dark gray work suit and black bow tie. He was all smiles as he warned, “Careful, Miss Andrews, it’s really heavy.” He heaved the package into my arms.

“Holy crap, Fred, what the heck is this? Someone sending me weights? I’m sorry you had to carry this all the way up. Thank you.” 

“Not a problem, Miss Andrews. It’s my job,” he said with a warm smile that made me want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze.

I closed the door as he left, lugging the incredibly heavy package back onto the couch with me. I tore through the brown paper wrapping to reveal an old shoebox with a note on top. 

I can’t live without your
T
ouch. You’ll see that I’ve provided enough money to pay for at least twenty years or so
.

I lifted the lid to reveal the entire contents of the box filled with quarters. My heart raced as my mind tried to figure out if this meant what I thought it did. I glanced toward the corner of my living room where the original mason jar filled with
Cassie
’
s Quarters
sat on a shelf. Confused, I reached for my cell to call Melissa when my doorbell rang again.

I tossed my cell on top of the quarters and shoved off the couch to answer the door. I cocked my head when I noticed Fred standing there, holding another box in his arms. “Fred?”

“Sorry I didn’t call. I just figured I’d bring this one up too.” He held the package out and I grabbed it, relieved that it didn’t weigh three hundred pounds like the first one.

Confusion sprinted marathons through my head. “Was this with the original package?”

“No, miss, it arrived separately.” Fred gave me a big smile. 

“Okay. Thanks again,” I said before closing the door and returning to my seat on the couch.

I tore through the same brown paper wrapping to reveal another box with a note on top.

Your Passion is inspiring. I can’t live without the way you use it to see the world.