I remember that while I was in school, I envisioned myself being some cooperate shark who would show those sexist businessmen that women could be just as savvy and cutthroat as the men.
But that doesn’t seem like something I much care about anymore. In fact, after finishing my business degree and finally being done with those miserable internships, I’d leapt at the chance to be on the road with Brody—not just because I’d missed being with him but because I didn’t think I could stand another relentless boss blaming me for their mistakes or delegating their own workload to me on top of my own responsibilities.
I admit to myself that I don’t want to work in that environment. A little afraid of that truth, I know I’ve got to figure out what I do want to do. I wish that Brody were around so I could talk about it with him. Not the on the road, the game is everything version of Brody but the version of Brody that I fell in love with. The guy that used to tell me I could be anything I wanted to be because I was smart enough and more talented than anyone had the right to be.
I get back to my parents’ house in time to see the game. My parents watch it with me, and my heart swells when I see Brody take off his hat and hold it over his heart. I clutch my hands together in my lap. He remembered to do our signal. He is thinking about me.
I can tell just looking at him and the expression on his face that he’s unhappy. Probably no one else can see it, but I can. He’s stressed out, and already, when the camera does a closeup, I can see the sweat forming on his upper lip. I figure he must have had a bad practice or an argument with a player or coach.
“Come on, Brody. Shake it off,” I say. But besides the strange looks my parents give me, they don’t say anything.
But no matter how much I beg the television, it doesn’t help. He’s unable to pull it together, and the coach ends up pulling him off the mound in the second inning. Brody’s performance is poor, to say the least.BrodyI’m the first one out of the locker room after the game, but that doesn’t matter because Rose isn’t there to pick me up. I look at the exit door, almost as if I’m willing her to be there. But she’s not. She’s nowhere around. She’s at home in Forest Grove by now. I throw my bag over my shoulder and get on the team bus.
“You should take up boxing,” the bus driver says as he climbs aboard.
“What?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, it’ll help you focus. You looked anxious out there tonight.”
“Thanks,” I say and head to the back of the bus, not in the mood to carry on a conversation with the driver or hear any more pointers.
I call Rose, and she answers on the first ring. “Hey, Brody.”
With the phone clenched tightly in my hand, I ask her, “Did you see the game?”
She pauses for just a minute. “I did.”
“My head isn’t in the game when you’re angry with me.” And I hate the vulnerability in my voice, but even I can hear it. I shouldn’t blame her, and that’s not what I’m doing. But I want her to know how much our disagreement has affected me. She has to know that I love her and want her around. I just don’t understand what’s happening with us.
She sighs loudly into the phone. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. I’m the one that lost sight of my own goals.” She pauses briefly before continuing in a soft voice. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Brody. You aren’t going to go out there and be perfect every time. Everyone is entitled to an off day. I’m sure the game tomorrow night will be better.”
I want to tell her that it won’t be better if she’s not with me, but the players are starting to board the bus, and my manager starts calling on the other line.
“I love you; I’ll call you later,” I rush and tell her.
“That’s okay, get some rest. You looked tired. I can tell when your eyes look puffy like that you’re not getting enough sleep. Besides, it’s pretty late—”
My manager is going to hang up if I don’t click over, and sometimes it’s hard to get the guy on the phone. “Okay, I gotta go. Love you, babe.”
I push the button to switch over, and Mike is there. Before he even says a word, I can hear the frustration in his sigh. “What happened to you out there today?”
“I had an off day. No big deal. I’ll be better tomorrow.”