Page 50 of Fair Ball

She nods slowly. Sagely. “Both of those things are achievable, if you want them.”

I give in to a smile even as I’m falling apart. “I’d like to just get through today and tomorrow.”

“And then Austin comes home,” she reminds me. I think she counts the days and keeps track of the Thunder schedule as much as I do.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

She lifts her hands innocently. “I don’t know, Millie. What does he have to do with anything?’

“Mom,” I whine, and she gives in to a ghost of a laugh that turns into a cough. “Want me to tuck you in?”

She shakes her head. “Only some water, please.”

I fill up a glass of water for her and carry it out to the tray that’s next to the recliner then make sure there are enough blankets and pillows for her to be comfortable. Sleeping more upright is easier for her than lying down flat, so I wait until she’s situated then offer her a kiss on the cheek.

“Say good night to Noah for me,” she orders, then waves me away. I’m not sure if it’s for her sake or mine, but I think both of us need to grieve separately. She constantly wants to mother me, take care of me—which I understand as a mom—but I also want to be able to cry on my own about the injustice of it all without having to worry her.

Upstairs, I tuck Noah into his bed and then get myself ready in shorts and a T-shirt. I take my time washing my face and spend an extra few minutes flossing carefully…not wanting to face the night.

The silence and darkness.

It already feels so heavy, I don’t know how I’ll be able to close my eyes.

Maybe I’ll keep my light on all night. Or simply not sleep.

Pretend the day hasn’t come to a close. One more gone in our countdown.

I’m stuck in a spiral about whether to lie in my bed when my phone buzzes with a call. It’s Austin, and I answer immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Why are you calling?”

“Because I wanted to check in on you. Why do you sound upset?”

“Because I thought something was wrong. Shouldn’t you be preparing for pitching tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I am, by checking in on you.”

“What does calling me have to do with your game preparation?”

“I know your mom had her appointment, and I wanted to know how it went because I assumed you were both stressed about it.”

I wind strands of my hair around my finger as I pace my room. As part of my daily morning message to him, I told him I was taking my mom for her scan. In case he needed me to do anything for him, it would have to wait until tomorrow. He told me to just take care of myself.

When I don’t answer him, he prods me. “How did it go?”

“Not great.”

“I’m sorry, Mills.”

“Me too.”

He’s quiet on the other end for a long time, long enough for me to make three laps of the floor before finally sitting cross-legged on my bed. That’s the thing about Austin and me; neither one of us feels a need to fill in the silence. He waits for me, like I wait for him.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, and I tip my head back, my eyes filling with water again.

“You have this backward. Your job is to play baseball, not take care of me.”