THERE WERE A lot of things Jack expected to see when he looked up in the stands during a game—cheering fans, foam fingers, men in uniformed jackets peddling cotton candy and Cracker Jacks, beer cups touching people’s lips, baseball caps, empty sections of hard metal seats.
What he never expected to see were two fans from opposite teams slapping hands, a herd of elephants, Santa Claus, or his dad. So, when he caught a glimpse of a guy in a pin-striped suit sitting in the seventh row during a home game at San Jose Municipal Stadium the following August, he had to do a couple of double takes before realizing it really was his old man.
What was he doing here?
Jack immediately feared that something was wrong. His dad had never been out to a game since Jack had been with the Giants. And the few college games he’d been to he’d only come because Jack’s mom had (obviously) dragged him. Every time Jack had looked up into the stands, he’d found his dad with his back turned to the game and his phone pressed up against his ear.
Was something wrong with his mom? Jack wondered. Had his dad’s dad, Jack’s only living grandparent, passed away? Had their house burned down?
Anxiously, Jack tapped his feet on the cement dugout floor during each of his team’s at-bats and glanced up at his dad in between pitches whenever he was on the mound throwing. When the game finally came to an end and his teammates went to the clubhouse gym to lift, Jack bounded up the bleachers.
“What’s wrong?” he asked his dad immediately. Although the night was warm, Jack was shivering from the fear of what his dad was going to hit him with.
“Something has to be wrong for me to see my boy play?” his dad said lightheartedly as he rose to his feet.
“Cut the crap, Dad.”
His dad opened his mouth like he was about to come back at Jack with a defensive comment but then closed it, confirming Jack’s suspicion that something was definitely wrong. His dad stared down at his loafers. What kind of a man showed up to a baseball game in a fancy outfit like that anyway?
“What is it, Dad?”
His dad folded his arms over his chest. Then he sighed deeply as he said, “Your mom asked me for a divorce.”
Jack wasn’t surprised by this. Over the past six years or so, his mom had voiced to Jack a number of times how much his dad’s absentee lifestyle bothered her. When Jack was growing up, she’d always acted like she didn’t mind it. She’d defended him to Jack, saying things like, “The way your dad supports us is by being at his job and making money to provide for this family. Work is his way of showing his love.” Jack didn’t know if she ever really believed that, or if she just said those things to try and make Jack feel better. But once he got to high school, she quit coming to his dad’s defense. Sometimes she bashed him in front of Jack when they were at the dinner table, just the two of them, eating one of her home-cooked meals while his dad’s plate sat there getting cold. Other times, Jack heard her crying softly in her bedroom after his dad didn’t show up to take her to a movie like he said he would, or to a play downtown she’d been dying to see.
“She said she couldn’t do it anymore,” his dad continued, raking his fingers through his hair. “She told me she doesn’t want to grow old alone.”
Jack grabbed the brim of his baseball cap and pulled on it. What was his dad expecting? Pity? Jack couldn’t give that to him. He sat down on the bleachers, and his dad took a seat beside him.
They both looked out over the field at the sprinklers as they kicked on. Then, before giving an awkward silence time to set in, his dad changed the subject.
“So, I was sitting at my office last night going through a bunch of things, and I found a picture tucked away in a drawer of you in your green Mighty Warriors Little League uniform. I think I saw you play one time that season.”
“Yeah. You did,” Jack said, thinking back. “It was a Tuesday evening game, and it got rained out halfway through. You saw me hit a double, bringing one guy in, and pitch three innings where I struck out seven people.”
His dad looked at him incredulously.
“I remember every detail of every game you were at, Dad. But more than that, I remember the disappointment I felt every game where you didn’t show up.”
In his entire life Jack had never seen his dad cry. Not when his grandma passed away when Jack was seven. Or when their golden retriever, Rusty, got hit by a car. Or when he lost a big trial that he had spent years preparing for. But now, out here underneath the florescent stadium lights, he saw a single tear roll down his old man’s cheek.
“I know I messed up, Jack,” he said. “I get it now—now that it’s too late. I chose the less important thing in life for too many years. And now . . . well . . . I have incredible success, a solid income, nice things, but no one to share any of it with.”
Immediately Charli popped into Jack’s head. And the decision he’d been belaboring for the past eight months or so. Jack had been looking for a sign that he should call his baseball career quits, and here his dad was, sitting right next to him, telling him that the most important things in life were the people in it. And if he were to get a do-over, he’d choose his family over his career.
Jack couldn’t believe that his dad was the one shedding light on his decision. It was a definite curveball, and the irony of it wasn’t lost on him. It was as though his life script read, “Dad enters left” right at this critical point, and Jack had to believe there was a reason for that.
“I’m here because I want to be at your games. I want to be able to talk to you on the phone. I want to be a presence unlike I was before.”
Jack had heard similar things come out of his dad’s mouth in the past and wasn’t sure he believed that he’d changed. But strangely he felt kind of grateful to him. His dad had made a mistake. Jack didn’t have to make the same one.
Of course, his dad had no clue that he had just given Jack the insight he desperately needed. He was just there trying to make amends. But still, that was worth something. Maybe not complete forgiveness, but a hug at least.
Surprising the both of them, Jack pulled his dad into his arms. It had been years since the two of them had embraced, and at first, the gesture felt awkward, stiff. But then both of them relaxed and eventually his dad put his arm around Jack’s back and patted it a few times.
Jack told his dad that he would keep him posted about his schedule. He didn’t want to share the details of how uncertain his baseball future looked at that very moment. It was one thing to embrace his dad; it was another to bare his soul to him. For now, he was keeping those thoughts private, but it was clear what he wanted to do.
After his dad left, he would go right to Coach Berry’s office in the clubhouse and tell him that he was done with baseball. Then he planned to pack his bags, drive home, and spend a few days with his mom to make sure she was okay. And later, he was going to fly out to Charleston, surprise Charli, and ask her to marry him.
Was it crazy? Sure. Impulsive? A little. But Jack knew it was the right thing. He didn’t want to end up where his dad was years down the road—on top of his career but without the love of his life.
Charli was too important to him. And the thought of being with her was way more exciting to him than shacking up in dingy motel rooms with a bunch of guys all chasing the same dream, which all of them realized only a very few had a slight shot at.
It wasn’t like he had to give up baseball for good. He could get a job coaching at a high school or as an assistant coach at a college. He could even start up some baseball camps out there. Those baseball equations included Charli and sounded much better to him than where he was now.
When he and his dad finally stood up and started to head down the bleachers, Jack found himself smiling. He playfully knocked his dad with his shoulder, and his dad, in turn, ruffled Jack’s hair.
“What do you say we grab a bite to eat?” his dad asked.
Jack nodded. “I just have to take care of something first.”
—
“WHAT ARE YOU doing home?” The shocked expression on Jack’s mom’s face was priceless when she opened the door for him and saw him standing there with his packed suitcases and his truck parked in the driveway. It was the same look Jack hoped to see on Charli’s face when he surprised her next week in Charleston. “Don’t you have a game tonight?”
“I quit,” Jack said, stepping inside, glad to be home, glad to be one stop closer to being with Charli again.
“You, what?” His mom gasped. “Are you okay?” She put her hands on his shoulders and checked his face for signs of regret frantically, like the mother of a toddler looking her little guy over for scrapes after a big fall.
“Never been better,” he said and smiled to assure her that he was fine. He lugged his suitcases into the house behind him and closed the door on the hot August afternoon.
Tentatively his mom reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t because of your father and me, is it?”
“Actually,” he said, prepared to fully open up to her unlike he had to his dad. “This is sort of about that.”
“Oh no.” Her face crumbled.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “Honestly, this is a good thing.”
He followed her into the kitchen where she immediately started to boil a pot of water and to pull out the ingredients for his favorite meal—spaghetti and meatballs. Cooking had always been her go-to when she was stressed. When he talked with her on the phone after his dad came out to San Jose and broke the news of their divorce, she joked that if he’d been around more, he would have known the divorce papers were coming because their kitchen had been full of gourmet meals that week—braised lamb, pork chops with garlic mashed potatoes, her famous jambalaya.
Jack hopped up onto the granite countertop. “Hearing Dad talk about not spending more time with you and me—it really put things in perspective. You know I haven’t been crazy about baseball in a while, but what I am still crazy about is Charli.” He cleared his throat preparing himself for his even bigger reveal. “Which is why I’ve decided to fly out to Charleston, surprise her, and ask her to marry me. I leave next week. I just bought my plane ticket.”
“What?” His mom dropped the box of opened spaghetti noodles, which hit the floor and proceeded to roll everywhere.
“Shoot!” She dropped to her knees to pick them up.
“You don’t like my idea?” Jack had thought she would completely embrace it. He had been so excited to tell her about it his whole car ride home. He’d even been hoping she’d give him his grandmother’s antique diamond wedding ring to use to propose to Charli. Years ago, before he and Charli were even dating, Charli had found it in his mom’s old wooden jewelry box stored in the attic on top of a distressed pine console table. She’d tried it on for fun, loved the look of it, and the fit had been perfect.
“You’re just . . . hitting me with a lot here, Jack.”
“Really? How can you say that?” He jumped off the counter and squatted down to help gather up the noodles. “You’ve been on the other end of my phone calls since I left for San Jose, Mom. And your advice the whole time has been to follow my heart. Didn’t you kind of anticipate that that advice might lead me to do this?”
“To quit maybe. But I did not anticipate that it would prompt you to surprise Charli with a proposal. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
“I’ve lived with the fear of losing her for over a year,” he said. “I can’t do it anymore. I want to start a life together.”
His mom held out the box for him to stuff the noodles he’d gathered back in. “But do you have any idea where her head’s at with you? What if she’s not ready to get engaged?”
“The reason we made the pact was so that we might have a shot at a future together. Now that I’ve quit baseball and can move where she is, I’m sure she’ll want to start a future with me sooner rather than later.”
“Maybe,” his mom said. “But maybe not. What if she’s seeing someone else? Have you thought of that?”
“Well, she definitely doesn’t sound like she’s seeing anyone else from the tone of her letters.” She still wrote things at the end of them like, Miss you. And, Wish I could see you soon. She wouldn’t have included stuff like that if she was involved with another guy, would she have?
“I’d feel a lot better about you going down there if you gave her a heads up. What’s the harm in that? You could even keep the proposal a surprise. But at least tell her you’re coming to Charleston.”
Jack could feel himself starting to lose his temper. “I don’t want to give her time to weigh in with her voice of reason. You know how she can be.”
If he called, Charli would be furious he quit baseball, encourage him to reconsider, and oppose his coming out there. But if he showed up and let her see how happy he was to have quit, he knew she wouldn’t protest.
His mom set the spaghetti down on the counter and held Jack’s hands while she looked him in the eyes. “Don’t get mad at me. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “But this is what I really want.”
“Will you just sit with all this for a couple of weeks, and then if you still feel like going out there and proposing is the right thing, you can do it?”
“I’ve already sat with it, Mom. And the longer I wait, the more time Charli does have to maybe meet someone else.” He turned away from her and looked over at the framed picture of him and Charli that was tacked up on the refrigerator door. The picture was actually two similar shots mounted side by side. In one they were seven years old, standing in a high pile of leaves that they’d raked up in Charli’s backyard and thrown up in handfuls into the crisp autumn air. The second picture was taken in a leaf pile too, but just a few years ago by one of their photographer friends on a sunny fall day on the Oregon State campus. Charli had her arms draped around Jack’s neck, and they were both sitting in the leaves, smiling at the camera. He wanted to be as happy as he was in both of those photos again. And he didn’t want to have to wait.
Stubbornly he said, “I’m going to go and propose either way, but I’d enjoy it more knowing you were behind me.”
For a second, the only sound in the kitchen was the water boiling on the stove. And then Jack heard his mom leave the room.
So much for being behind him. Really? That was how she was going to respond? Why was she being so negative about this? And worrying so much? Couldn’t she just be happy for him?
A moment later he heard her reenter.
“Maybe I’ll just go ask Dad for his approval,” he said, even though he knew it was insensitive. His dad’s approval really meant nothing to him.
He heard his mom draw in a deep breath. “If this is what you really want and how you really want to do it . . . then I want you to have this ring.”
Jack spun around and saw her standing by the stove, holding his grandmother’s ring in her fingers.
“Mom—” he started, apologetically.
“You do have my support and my blessing, Jack.”
“You don’t know how much that means to me.” He went to her, took the ring, and examined it, picturing the way it would sparkle on Charli’s finger. “I’ve never been so excited about something,” he confessed. “Or felt so right about a decision.”
Tears shone in his mom’s eyes. “Then I’m sure it will all work out,” she said.
Jack smiled, staring at the ring in the palm of his hand, wishing his flight was even sooner.