Third Base (The Boys of Summer 1)

“What’s this?” Daisy asks, walking toward me.

Spreading my arms out wide, I say, “This is our mode of transportation today. However, there is a surprise in the back for your grandpa.”

Her eyes narrow in skepticism as she leans in to look. The windows are darkened, limiting her line of sight. “What? I don’t see anything.” she says, stepping back and crossing her arms.

Pressing the button on my fob, the door slides open, revealing a custom black and red (of course) motor scooter. As much as I want to admire the craftsmanship of the decals, her expression is far more heart-warming. Her mouth drops open and there’s a slight cry of surprise before she covers her mouth with her hand.

“We can’t accept this,” she says. I knew she was going to say that. Everyone always says that when you try and give them an expensive gift.

“Why not?” I want to hear her excuses and if they’re valid, I’ll donate the scooter.

“Because it’s too much.”

That’s definitely not a valid enough reason. I step forward and pull her into my arms, kissing her gently on her cheeks and finally her lips.

“Over the past month, I’ve seen a man come to life because he’s doing what he loves – attending Renegades baseball games. I know I’ve made that happen, but I also think that your grandfather would probably like to get out by himself every now and again, maybe go to the store and get some things for himself. This thing is motorized and takes little effort. It’s a gift Daisy, one that you’ll both benefit from. He’ll be able to move around the house more freely and not depend so much on you or the nurses.”

She nods, knowing I’m right.

“The van will still pick him up for games, so you won’t have to worry about the T or anything like that, but all he has to do is get in the elevator and now he’ll be able to do that by himself.”

“Only if the elevator works,” she says, wiping her tears away. I kiss her again and again, not caring who is watching from the street.

“The elevator will be working today. I made some calls and was assured that by the time we get back, the elevator will be fully functioning.”

She gasps and steps back. “You did what?”

I shrug. It wasn’t a big deal, at least not to me, however her stance tells me I may have crossed the line. “What?”

“You can’t go around making phone calls like that, Ethan. There are rules and… well you just can’t do it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to cool my temper. “You live in a housing unit that the state funds; you need working equipment. I made a call and it’ll be working by the time we get back, otherwise they’re in violation and you’re not required to pay rent.”

Daisy crosses her arms and looks down the street. I do what seems natural and pull her to me, enveloping her in my arms. “I’m only trying to help. I thought it’d be nice to have an elevator that actually works so when you’re carrying groceries up, you’re not killing yourself.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she mumbles into my shirt. “I’m not used to anyone doing such nice things for us. I don’t know how to take it.”

I pull back, cupping her cheeks with my hands. “Get used to it, Daisy.”

She stretches up on her toes, giving me a chaste kiss. “Where are we going today?”

“We are going to New York City to watch the Mets play.”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes light up. “Seriously?”

“Would I lie?”

“No, but oh my… my grandpa is going to be so freaking happy.” She leaves me standing by the van as she heads to her door. “Wait, why not the Yankees?” she asks with a smile, before disappearing inside. I shake my fist at her before going to work on getting the scooter out of the van. That damn elevator better work today because there’s no way I can carry this up the stairs.

As far as road trips go, this is one of the best. The drive is just under four hours from Boston to NYC and John has made sure to pass the time easily for me. Stories of Daisy when she was a little girl have had me laughing the entire time. Each time I hear, “Oh, Papa, no,” I know it’s going to be a doozy of a story.

“When Daisy was about ten, she had this crush on the neighbor boy. I think he was about three years older…”

I reach for Daisy’s hand and give it a squeeze. She’s been a trooper, letting her grandfather go on and on about her life growing up.

“Her grandma and I told her that he was too old for her and that he’d break her heart, but she wouldn’t listen. Each day she’d wait for him to get home from practice or whatever he did after school, sitting on the front porch step watching each kid go by. When he’d go by on his bike, she’d run out there to say hi and he’d talk to her until his mom started hollering for him.

“One day, he brought a girl home and little miss Daisy became so enraged she socked the girl right in her shoulder before she came running into the house, telling us that boys are stupid.”