“I plan to pig out on ballpark food.”
“Same here. See you.”
He was pleased to see she was smiling when she slid behind the wheel of her car. She appeared as though she might even be looking forward to the outing. He knew he was.
A good-sized crowd had gathered at the North Little Rock ballpark on this pleasantly mild evening for one of the last games of the season. The redbrick exterior of the relatively new park, featuring an impressive clock tower and old-fashioned wrought-iron streetlights, was designed to resemble an old-time train station. This was Haley’s first time to visit, and she was impressed by how pretty and welcoming the entrances appeared.
Ron placed a casual hand on her back as they entered one of the three gates, shoulder to shoulder with other arrivals. She knew it was just a way to keep them from getting separated, but she was keenly aware of the contact between them.
They entered into a covered concourse lined with gift shops and concession stands. Music played from overhead speakers, people milled about and talked and laughed, children dashed, squealing from one end to the other, some wearing Little League uniforms and carrying ball gloves. Scents of popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, barbecue and beer wafted past her nose, making her tummy rumble in response. Lunch had been a long time ago.
“Food now, snacks later?” Ron asked.
“Sounds good to me.”
They debated going into the bar and grill but decided to take food to their seats, instead. Part of the fun of eating at the ballpark was risking splattering food all over their clothes, Ron asserted with a grin. Because Haley was wearing a dark red, short-sleeve pullover with comfortable, dark wash jeans and red-and-black ballet slippers, she wasn’t overly worried about her clothes.
She didn’t want to think about the ridiculous amount of time she had spent deciding what to wear, even though she’d had less than an hour to get ready and change before Ron picked her up after work. The scoop-neck tee had been the third shirt she’d tried on. She’d settled on it finally because it was casual enough not to look as though she’d put too much thought into her clothing choice, yet still fitted enough to flatter, something her feminine ego had demanded. Though Ron hadn’t commented on her outfit, she thought she’d seen appreciation in his eyes when she’d opened her door to him.
He looked darned good, himself, in a loose-fitting, soft green Hawaiian print shirt and khaki cargo shorts with sandals. His sandy hair was tousled around his face, making him look young and sporty and appealing. Though no one would call him a “pretty boy,” he looked more like an athlete or a male model than an aspiring doctor, definitely attractive enough to pose for one of those beach ads in a travel magazine. She was aware of the attention he received from young women milling around the concourse while they ordered their food.
The thing was, Ron seemed almost oblivious to his attraction, she reflected, settling into her comfortable green plastic box seat with her hot dog and bottled water. He’d made a few joking remarks about James’s classically handsome face—to James’s embarrassment and everyone else’s amusement—but Haley had never seen an ounce of vanity in Ron, himself. He dressed casually, cared nothing about designer names, wore a practical, inexpensive watch, favored comfort over fashion in his shoes.
He’d mentioned that he’d grown up without much money, so he’d never gotten spoiled to the finer things in life, but she doubted that money would change him much. Ron just wasn’t in “the game,” as she thought of it—that constant striving to impress, to possess, to accumulate. She’d always admired that about him, having little interest in those things, herself.
Her own family had struggled financially when her father had been laid off from his job while she was a freshman in high school. He’d taken the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream and open a little Italian restaurant, and Haley had dedicated herself to helping her parents make that dream pay off, working long, unpaid hours in the restaurant after school and on holidays and for two years after her high school graduation. Her parents would never get rich with their establishment, but they had the satisfaction of making a decent living with it now and having a loyal and appreciative customer base. She was so proud of them for following their dreams, just as they had encouraged her to do.
“How’s your hot dog?” Ron asked, looking up from his nachos loaded with cheese, peppers and barbecued pork.
She swallowed a bite of all-beef frank, bun and mustard and then smiled. “It’s delicious. Hot dogs always taste best at a ballpark. How’s your heart-attack-in-a-bowl?”
Laughing, he scooped up more melted yellow cheese onto an already-loaded tortilla chip. “It’s great. I’ll eat an extra helping of veggies at lunch tomorrow to make up for the indulgence.”
“And I’ll eat salad tomorrow,” she joked in return. “Because I am definitely having cotton candy before I leave here tonight.”
A blast of organ music and a stir of reaction from the crowd signaled the beginning of the minor league baseball game. The clatter of inflatable plastic “thunder sticks” blended with the cacophony of other sounds, and while it was noisy, Haley found the atmosphere oddly relaxing. Probably because it was so different from her usual routines.
It really was a beautiful early evening. Far on the other side of the park, beyond right field, children frolicked on the grassy berms and climbed on playground equipment. Families and company groups milled beneath rented picnic pavilions. She couldn’t see the Arkansas River flowing on the other side of the park, but the Little Rock skyline on the far side of the
river provided the backdrop for the game. Old warehouses and new skyscrapers were stacked like plastic building blocks against the darkening blue sky. Because their seats faced west, Haley was glad she’d thought to wear her sunglasses against the glare of the setting sun. Ron had slipped on a pair of aviators, but quite a few of the people surrounding them were squinting and shading their eyes with their hands, including the giggly teenage girls sitting on Haley’s right.
Vendors in red-and-white striped shirts and bulging red cash aprons climbed the steps hawking peanuts, popcorn, Cracker Jacks, cotton candy and cold beer. Someone dressed as the team mascot, Shelley, a bucktoothed brown horse in a Travelers jersey and cap, worked the crowd, posing with excited children and making them laugh with his antics.
Both Haley and Ron were entertained by a little boy in the row directly in front of them. Blond and blue-eyed, he might have been two years old. He looked adorable in his tiny baseball cap and jersey, and he held a soft toddler-sized catcher’s mitt that he swung enthusiastically, hitting both his indulgent parents in the head more than once. He liked to stand backward in his seat, flirting with Haley. She flirted in return, making him grin and bounce. Ron also teased the boy, eliciting musical laughs.
Ron was good with kids, Haley noted. It was no wonder he was doing so well on the peds rotation so far. He liked seniors and toddlers, he’d said. Both groups adored him.
The home team scored a home run late in the third inning, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Their hands empty now, Haley and Ron joined the celebration, standing to clap and high-five as two runners crossed home plate, bringing the score to 3–1. They laughed together at the between-inning antics on the field—mascot races, potato-sack races, dizzy-bat races. The sun went down and the park lights blazed, and she and Ron removed their dark glasses. He knew much more about the game than she did, and he patiently answered her questions about rules and strategy. There were no awkward pauses, for which she was grateful. She was simply enjoying this outing with him.
By the sixth inning, Ron decided he was ready for his next course of ballpark food. He debated between a funnel cake and a soft pretzel, while Haley flagged down a vendor and pointed to a cone of pink cotton candy. She rationalized the purchase by reminding herself that the treat was mostly air, and probably the lowest calories of the choices, despite the lack of nutritional value.
“Can I bring you something to drink?” Ron asked as he stood to go fetch his own dessert, having finally decided on the funnel cake.
“No, thanks, I still have part of my bottled water.”
He nodded. “Okay, be right back. Don’t run off with any hot ballplayers while I’m gone.”
“Well, darn, take all the fun out of the evening, why don’t you?” she joked in return.