“What are you doing in my living room?” he asked. I saw him pinch the inside of his wrist, like he was checking to see if he was dreaming. I told him I stopped by this morning to surprise his aunt, and then he grabbed the remote and asked if I liked cartoons, to which I replied, “Who doesn’t?”
After a little while, he asked if I knew how to make waffles, and then he ran back to his room and returned with a handful of baseball trivia cards.
We’ve been best buds ever since.
“Oh, Wren’s calling,” Aidy says, placing the call on speaker. “Hey, Wren, what’s up?”
“Morning,” Wren says. “We’re here in Houston, just waiting on our connecting flight. Thought I’d call and see how everything was going.”
“Hi, Mom!” Enzo calls from the backseat.
“Hey, buddy. I miss you. I love you,” Wren says sweetly. “Can’t wait to see you again. Are you being good for Aunt Aidy?”
“He’s being an angel,” Aidy says.
“Ace made me waffles this morning,” Enzo announces.
Wren is silent for a moment.
“They were the best waffles I’ve ever had,” he adds.
“Good for you, buddy,” Wren says. “That’s . . . that was very kind of him. You’ll have to do something nice for him one of these days.”
“Not necessary. It was my pleasure,” I chime in, squeezing Aidy’s hand.
“Oh. Hi, Ace . . .” Wren says.
“We’re in the car right now. You’re on speaker,” Aidy says.
“What car?” Wren fires back.
“Ace got us tickets to the Firebirds game. In Baltimore. We’re driving there now,” Aidy says.
“I’m so excited, Mom!” Enzo adds. “Ace said we could tour the dug out, and he’s going to introduce me to the team!”
“It was all last minute,” I say. “I hope it’s okay. I promise they’re in great hands.”
Wren is quiet again, and then she comes back on the phone. “No, no, it’s fine. I trust you. Enzo, be good and stick with Ace and Aunt Aidy. Don’t leave their sides. Do everything they say.”
Aidy turns to me and mouths, “Helicopter Mom” as she twirls her finger in the air. I laugh.
“He’s going to have a great time today, aren’t you, buddy?” Aidy says. “I’ll text you when we get there,” she adds. “And I’ll take lots of pictures.”
“Okay, well, they’re calling us to board now,” Wren says. “Love you guys.”
“Love you, Mom!” Enzo calls.
Aidy hangs up and reaches for the radio, tuning into the same Jersey classic rock station I grew up listening to.
Within a half hour, we’re passing by the exit that leads to my hometown.
Yeah.
I’m going to take Aidy home next weekend to meet my mom.
And my mom is going to love her just as much as I do.
Thirty-Eight
Aidy
* * *
The sky is pitch black, not a single star in sight. Enzo’s snoring in the backseat and Ace is focused on the road ahead. Headlights whir past us and the radio hums quiet tunes.
We’re sunburnt and deliriously exhausted, but today was a day none of us will ever forget.
I can see the city skyline from here, which means we’re almost home, which also means this day is coming to an end.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for Ace’s hand. “Thank you for everything. I think Enzo almost passed out when you gave him a tour of the dugout and let him throw out a pitch before the stadium filled up.”
Ace smiles. “I owed him. Plus, he’s a good kid. He deserved it.”
I pull out my phone and flip through all the photos. I must’ve taken at least two hundred today and half a dozen videos, and I’ll share them all with Wren when she comes home.
“The poor kid almost stroked out when he got to meet the team,” I say, laughing to myself. I thought he was going to faint when Ace introduced him to Guy Ditka and Mike Baltierra. A bag in the backseat is full of swag. Hats. Pennants. Signed balls.
That’s the stuff little boy dreams are made of right there.
It hits me a few miles down the road that we’re not going to be able to do this kind of stuff much longer. Within a month, I’ll be living out west, and if I’m lucky, Ace might come visit a couple times a month. Or maybe I’ll come back here. I’m not sure. We haven’t worked out the details. Our relationship will be relegated to squeezing in a whole lot of stuff in a few short days, and we’ll be waiting with bated breath every agonizingly long day in between.
Still, I’d rather have Ace in my life than not.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.
“You doing okay?” I ask him. I’m probably annoying him because I’ve asked him this every other hour all day, but I saw the wistful glint in his eye as we returned to his home turf. I saw the sad smile on his face when his old coach wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him aside. I saw how happy his old teammates were to see him, and I heard the melancholy in his voice as he assured them he was doing alright without baseball in his life.
“I am.” Ace nods, lips tight. “I’m better than okay, actually.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“In a weird way, it’s like I finally got closure. It’s like I’m free to finally move forward from all of this,” he says, hands slicking the steering wheel as we come to an exit. He veers right, checking the rearview mirror. “After today, I’m really looking forward to whatever comes next for me.”
“Okay, so what’s next for you?”
Ace lifts a heavy shoulder, letting it fall. “Still trying to figure that out.”
“The good thing is you have options. You can go anywhere. You can do anything.”
“Yeah,” he says, turning to me quickly. “I was thinking today, and I wouldn’t mind checking out the West coast. Not exactly a palm trees and sunshine kind of guy, but I can throw on some shorts and catch a tan if it means being closer to you.”
My jaw falls and I lean toward him, clamping my hand on his meaty bicep. “What? Really? Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Is that crazy?”
“Yes. Certifiably.”
“You want me to come with you?” he asks.
“Of course. But you’re going to hate it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you might actually have to smile once in a while. Those Californians are laid back and generally happy most of the time. At least when they’re not stuck in traffic.”
“Jesus, Aidy, I’ll be smiling all the damn time if I’m with you.”
I bury my face against his arm, dragging in his scent. Cologne. Beer. Popcorn. Sunshine.
“I love you,” he says. “I’m coming with you. I’m not losing you again.”
Epilogue
Ace
* * *
One Year Later
* * *