I’m going to send this before I can talk myself out of asking whether you’re single. <grimace emoji>
Love,
Austin
I press Send on the message and realize my palms are suddenly sweaty, which happens only right before a start, when my nerves kick in. Ugh, does that mean I’m nervous about asking Maria if she’s seeing anyone?
Well, yeah, kinda.
I put down my phone and rest my head against the back of the seat, closing my eyes and trying to chill the fuck out. I’ve let this thing with her become bigger than it should be, which is probably due to how completely fucked up I’ve been since Ev got sick. I cringe when I recall telling Maria about the therapy and the PTSD and all that.
It’s not like it’s a big secret, but did I really have to dump all that on her the first day I got to talk freely with her?
Like always lately, my own thoughts drive me crazy. I never used to be an anxiety-ridden disaster area, but seeing your child through a life-threatening illness has a way of turning even the most laid-back kind of guy into someone totally different than he used to be. And if I’ve learned anything in therapy, it’s that I can’t hide from the feelings Ev’s illness has left me with. I can only try to cope with them.
Post-trauma, it would be impossible for me to get to know Maria, or anyone else, for that matter, without making that part of the equation. It’s who I am now, for better or worse. And I can’t hide from it, as much as I wish I could forget what we went through.
Sometimes it irks me that my parents have picked up and gone on like nothing ever happened. I’m aware that my hovering annoys them, but damned if I can help it. The fear of that beast of a disease coming back hangs over me like a dark cloud I can’t shake no matter how hard I try.
I think that’s why this flirtation or whatever it is with Maria is so exciting. For the first time since Ev got sick, I have something else to think about besides doom and gloom.
Writing to her and reading her responses have given me something I haven’t had in far too long: hope. Of course I realize it’s silly to be finding hope in someone I barely know. I’ve never even actually spoken to her, and yet, that doesn’t change how she makes me feel. It’s such a fucking relief to have something to think about besides baseball and health disasters.
I probably ought to refrain from sharing that thought with her, since I don’t want her to think that’s what she’s become to me—something to relieve my anxiety—even if that’s what she does for me.
My phone vibrates in my lap, and I grab it, fully aware that I’m worse than a fifteen-year-old girl in the throes of her first crush.
Morning!
Hope you’re having a smooth flight. I hate to fly, and I could never have a job that required me to fly as much as yours does. They couldn’t pay me enough! What do you do when you arrive in Detroit?
I get to work around eight thirty, and we open at nine. We try to close by four or four thirty if we can see everyone who’s come in that day. Some days we’re so busy, we have to give out numbers so people can take their place in line the next day. I check people in and record their vitals (height/weight, temperature, blood pressure and pulse). I handle all our patient charts and do a million other things to keep this place running smoothly. I’m at the clinic now, but this morning has been slow so far. I’m in the office sneaking this message to you. Not that anyone would care what I’m doing. It’s a pretty cool place to work.
We have a nurse practitioner named Miranda (she and her husband founded the clinic thirty years ago) who sees all the patients, except for the days when Jason (my cousin Carmen’s fiancé) comes in. He’s been filling in while our regular doctor is recovering from injuries he sustained in a car accident, and Miranda was part-time for months while she recovered from knee surgery. We’ve been so slammed, and Jason has been a godsend to us over the last couple of months. He’s arranged his schedule at Miami-Dade General Hospital, where he and Carmen both work, to be here on Thursday afternoons.
A lot of the people we see don’t have insurance, so the clinic is truly a lifesaver for them. In fact, it’s because of the clinic that I was in the Be the Match database. We did a registry drive here about four years ago, which is when I was swabbed. It’s one of those things you do and then never give another thought to until you get a call that you’re a match for someone.
About your questions… I’m also twenty-eight, completely single after a bad breakup a couple of years ago (although I think your breakup takes the prize for worst ever), and in case you’re wondering, waiting to hear from you is torturous for me, too!
Well, I’d better get back to work. If you think of it, text me when you land, so I won’t be worried about you flying.
Love,
Maria
My heart does this weird fluttering thing when I read that last sentence and see that she’s included her number. How long has it been since anyone other than my parents cared about whether I’d landed safely somewhere? Kasey never gave a shit where I was. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how little she cared until my teammate’s wife told me what was going on while I was away.
I think it’s cute that Maria says they couldn’t pay her enough to fly the way I do. Would ten million a year get her on a plane every week or so for six months? I wonder, but I’d never ask her such a douchey question.
Hi again,
Flying isn’t my favorite thing, either, but it’s a necessary part of the job for half the year. I’ve gotten used to it, but I can think of a million other things I’d rather do.
Today, for instance, I’d much prefer to be visiting a free clinic in Little Havana… I’d love to have her check my vitals. I bet my blood pressure is up a little since I received that sexy-as-fuck photo of her last night. I’ve looked at it a hundred times, easily.
When we land in Detroit, a bus will take us to a hotel near the ballpark. We get to chill until about three, when we go to the park for batting practice and warmups. Sometimes a group of us will go get lunch, but most of the time, we take the downtime when we can get it. On game days, I usually sleep in, get room service, watch TV and take it easy, especially the days when I’m pitching. The season is a grind, and by the time September rolls around, we’ve been battling annoying injuries and trying to play through them for months. We’re not in the running for the post-season this year, so this is our second-to-last road trip. Guess where we’re going on the last one? Tampa and Miami! That’s the week after next, and the three games in Miami will end the season for us. Maybe we can meet up while I’m in town?
I toss that out there casually, as if the possibility of actually meeting her isn’t the most exciting thing to happen in a really long time.
Your clinic really sounds like an amazing place. It’s nice of your cousin’s fiancé to volunteer at the clinic. I know way more about doctors and specialties than I ever thought I would. (And we’re back to the trauma! See why I can barely stand myself? Not sure how anyone else can.) Anyhow, I’m glad to hear you’re single. That matters to me more than it probably should, if I’m being honest. I’m almost twenty-nine, which makes me practically a senior citizen in this game.