19
Walker
My body might be in a suit, at this stuffy New Year’s Eve ball, but my mind is still back on that text message.
Hannah’s words were the last I thing I read on Christmas Eve, when I’d been about to get in my car and drive over to surprise her because I knew she was sad about the girls being away for the night. Spending a major holiday together might be a big step, but I made it known how deeply I care for her, and I thought a quiet December twenty-fourth, even if her sister were there, would be special.
When I received her wishes, that we should keep things private and even slow down, I was confused to say the least. And she hasn’t been much more detailed since.
In the week between Christmas and New Year’s, or tonight, Hannah and I have barely communicated. Yes, we’ve messaged, maybe spoken on the phone a couple times, but they’ve been all surface level. She’s shutting me out, I can feel it. I don’t want to push her, because she’s been through something like that before and I always want to be respectful, but I feel it all slipping away.
And now, I’m spending the last night of the year, and the first hours of the new one, without the woman I’m in love with. Not that she knows that, or how long I’ve actually been falling, but not talking to her or being with her at midnight feels like the wrong decision. It feels like something I’ll regret not taking no for an answer on.
“You just completely ignored the governor,” my father snaps at me, and my mother looks at me like I’m crazy.
I don’t know why I agreed to attend this ball, but I guess I thought it might cheer me up. A few other players are in attendance, and my father kind of talked me into it. Plus, Sinclair decided to come, and I haven’t seen my brother since that fight we had before I left his house with puke and pool water all over my shoes.
I blink, bringing my parents into focus. “Sorry, I just … I think the late hour is getting to me.”
Sinclair snorts beside me. “The late hour? It’s like, ten thirty. More like the third scotch you just downed.”
The glare I send him could melt metal. “You’re one to talk.”
“But I’m a fun drunk, where you just seem to be sinking deeper into your ethical dilemmas,” my brother cracks.
“Stop it, you two. This is supposed to be a fun family night,” Mom scolds us, and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.
My mother is a saint for putting up with the three men in her life, but her toxic positivity can sometimes be just that. She chooses to brush negativity under the rug instead of addressing it, thinking that by trying a new exercise or cooking a new dish or activity, that will make sadness go away. She’s done a lot for us, but Mom has always had the mentality that people with money possess: we don’t show vulnerability or weakness, it’s just best to put on the sheen of happiness.
“Walker, you need to get your head on straight. A lot of these people came here to see what the future of the organization looks like.”
“And what does it look like, Dad?” I snap, because I’m tired of him trying to push this on me. “I’m a ballplayer. I have years left on my contract. Was a World Series not enough for you last year?”
Daniel Callahan’s face becomes hard as stone. “Keep your voice down. And don’t be so ridiculous, Walker. Who paid for all of those private lessons and camps? Supported your dream of being a player instead of coming to work in the family business? Me. And it’s expected that you’ll play and then fulfill your duty. Just as so many other Callahans have.”
I bite my tongue so hard I think I taste blood. I don’t want to get into this here, and I’m tired of talking in circles about it. My old man thinks I’m going to put on a suit and tie after I hang up my cleats, when all I want to do is be free to explore anything besides baseball. I love my sport, it’s my first and only focus and passion most days. But I envision some day in the future when I can freely explore other things that might fulfill me. Where I don’t have to be a goddamn Callahan or just follow what Daddy wants.
Mom puts a hand on my father’s arm, probably because she can feel the tempers rising between us, and tries to gently pull him across the dance floor. “Danny, I see the Millers over there. Remember, you were talking about sponsorships opportunities with them? Let’s go say hi.”
She turns back and nods as they leave our familial circle, and I thank her silently. One good thing about Mom is that she’s always been good at backing Dad off us when she senses we’re at our breaking point.
“Well, this is fun.” Sinclair smirks into his beer.
I harumph, finishing off the dregs of my drink.
“You haven’t been around as much. At least, you’re not bugging me about my life choices as much,” Sinclair remarks, and I think I notice a new tattoo dotting the knuckles on his left hand.
I shrug. “Doesn’t seem you want me around too much.”
“Never said that. Sometimes I like when my big brother, the golden child, comes around and shoves his morally correct choices in my face.” Sin’s grin is sarcastic and shit-eating. “Though I never expected to see you be the one to shirk the responsibilities Dad was trying to thrust upon his sons.”
“Well, Sin, who is supposed to take all of his criticism and expectations after you decided you wouldn’t take any?” I snap again.
Not being with Hannah, not speaking to her for weeks, and now my father being on my back at this stuck-up event I shouldn’t even have come to is making me want to climb the walls.
I see Sinclair’s normally egotistical expression slip, and I think I’ve wounded him beneath his jaded, party-boy armor.
“Jesus, guess I’ll just leave you alone then. I don’t even know why I came tonight, thought it’d be nice to spend some time together.” His voice almost sounds sincere to me.
When he turns to stomp off in the opposite direction as my parents, I grab his arm. “Sin, I didn’t mean that. I’m just … I’m working through some shit.”
His eyes, the same blue as mine, give me nothing. “Aren’t we all?”
And then my brother stalks off.
Great, I think as I blow an agitated breath out through my mouth. Now I’ve managed to piss off my entire family, and the woman I love is barely talking to me.
Apparently, this new year is going to be shit if the beginning supposedly dictates what will happen over the next three hundred and sixty-four days.
20
Hannah
At the start of all this, after Shane was arrested in the stadium parking lot and my photos were leaked to the media, it still kind of felt like I was coming out of a very dark tunnel.
Getting away from my abusive husband, being able to live in a house with my girls that I could run however I wish. Having the freedom to get my own job, to make my own money. It all seemed like I was turning a fresh page, that I could finally come up for air after I was drowning for so long.
Now I remember why I was so fearful to jump off the ledge, because the chance of flying was only fifty-fifty. For a while, I thought I was flapping my wings, successfully motoring through the air. But it was a farce, a false sense of security. I was really only gliding, waiting for the first sign of a storm to knock me to the ground.