As the heat of July in the Midwest takes a firm grip on the exposed throat of the Midwest, Alma and I begin walking Liberty and McGee early in the morning or after seven in the evening. My summer classes require me to leave late morning and return mid-afternoon when the sun is the hottest. I’m thankful my old car’s air conditioner still works.
The three of us take a mini-weekend-vacation to St. Louis. It will be a weekend of firsts for Liberty. I’m excited to share my love for the St. Louis Cardinals while she sees her daddy pitch for the first time. We plan to attend the Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon games. We settle into our hotel room to relax a bit after our long drive. Liberty slept as I drove. Now she is awake and hungry. Alma offers to feed her while I unpack then set up the portable crib.
Due to the heat, we arrive only thirty minutes before the first pitch. Alma assists as I record Liberty with eyes open entering the ballpark and in our lower level seats for the video journal I keep to share with Hamilton in the future. I smile to myself as she and I wear our Cardinals jerseys. Libby has a red headband in her dark brown curls. By the first pitch, her yawns grow more frequent. Alma pulls a bottle from the diaper bag. Liberty’s eyes lock on it immediately while her legs and arms begin to animate with excitement.
Fans sitting in the seats around us laugh at her reaction. One kind Cardinals fan offers to take a picture of the three of us with the field in the background while her husband holds the baby bottle. She claims we need a photo while Libby is awake of all of us at her first game. Fortunately, Libby cooperates. I’m surprised she didn’t start to cry as her bottle moved farther away instead of closer. When my little girl is hungry she doesn’t like to wait for her food.
When her tummy is full she falls sound asleep. I place her in the baby sling swaddled to my chest for the remainder of the game. Alma snaps photos occasionally of Libby and I, the game, and beautiful Busch Stadium all lit up after dark. Between the fifth and sixth inning a camera zooms in on the sleeping Libby still wearing her red Cardinals headband and me. We are projected on the jumbotron. A loud ‘ahh’ erupts from the stadium. Luckily a fan nearby snaps a picture of us on the big screen and asks to text it to me.
I stare at the perfect photo on my phone screen for many minutes. Suddenly fear envelops me. What if Hamilton heard the ‘ah’ and glanced at the jumbotron? He would no doubt recognize me. He might have seen Liberty. My heartbeat quickens. Please, please, please don’t let him have seen us.
“Madison,” Alma’s concerned voice calls. “What’s wrong?” She places her hand on my forearm.
I quietly share my concern that Hamilton might have seen me on the jumbotron with Liberty. Alma calmly asks to see the photo on my phone. She studies it for a moment. She points out with my Cardinals hat and Libby at my chest, Hamilton might simply think it was someone that resembles me. Most of my face is shaded by the hat, Alma isn’t in the shot, and he has no reason to think I would bring a baby girl to a ballgame. Her words calm most of my fears. I’ll need to wait until I hear from him next to see if he brings it up to know for sure.
The next day, Libby wakes from her nap as we enter the stadium. I selected seats in the shade for this sultry day to ensure she remains as cool as possible. Alma records me helping Libby clap when her daddy is announced as the starting pitcher for the Chicago Cubs. Today, I wear my Cardinals attire while Libby wears her daddy’s jersey, a Cubs diaper cover, and a blue Cubs headband in her damp ringlets. Alma and I keep our voices low when we refer to Hamilton as Libby’s daddy. We don’t want anyone to hear us and start rumors on social media about Hamilton having a daughter. I am acutely aware he is in the public eye.
Hamilton’s pitches vex my Cardinals. The Cards trail by two when he leaves the game in the seventh. Alma and I decide due to the heat we should leave, too. At Alma’s van, we remove the plastic bags she insisted we keep in the cooler. In each of the three bags Alma placed a washcloth for after the game. Yet another trick I’ve learned in our time together. I wipe Liberty down from head to toe, change her diaper, then secure her in her car seat for the drive home. Alma and I use our washcloths on the back of our neck and face to cool down as I drive.