I had to go with JUST ONE, I guess I would choose Angels in the Outfield.
I smile to myself as I send the text. No self-respecting baseball aficionado would ever choose Angels in the Outfield as their favorite baseball movie, but I’m dying to see Carson’s reaction.
Carson: Uh . . . really?
I laugh out loud and type him back.
Milly: Yes! Every time they start flapping their arms, God, I get teary eyed.
Carson: . . .
Carson: I mean . . .
Carson: Teary eyed?
Another bout of laughter hits me as my smile stretches across my face.
Milly: I used to pretend I was an angel and would fly around the outfield with wings strapped to my back, while my dad was hitting balls to my brothers. I’d pull on their shirts, pretending to help them.
The dots appear and then they go away. They appear again, and then silence. I’m laughing so much that I almost don’t hear my phone ringing. One glance at the screen tells me it’s Carson.
I try to hold back my laugh as I answer, but it’s impossible.
“Hello?”
“Please tell me you’re kidding. Right, this is a joke? I mean, I respect movie choices, to each their own, but come on, Mills, you can’t possibly think that’s the best baseball movie.” His use of my nickname sobers me slightly, loving how it rolls off his tongue with such ease.
“It’s just so good.”
“Stop it,” he says curtly, causing me to bust up. “Stop it right now. I can’t have my coach making such blasphemous statements like that.”
“Am I losing all credibility?”
“Yes. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m joking.”
He exhales and I can envision him relaxing his shoulders, his fear subsiding. “Thank fuck. We were going to have to really consider our working relationship.”
Working relationship. I try not to let the words bite, but they do anyway.
“So be honest, what’s your favorite?”
Shaking off the feelings of disappointment, I say, “Well, it comes down to this, a childhood memory that I’ll never forget.”
“Yeah? Lay it on me.”
“It was after playing ball with my brothers once. They were whipping the ball around and it was a little fast for me. I ended up catching the ball wrong, it bounced off my glove and hit me in the mouth, giving me a fat lip. I cried and ran into the house. They kept playing, which reinforced that I couldn’t quite keep up. I was really upset and my mom scooped me up and took me into my parents’ room where she gave me an ice pack and sat me on the bed. She turned on the TV, popped a movie in, and sat next to me, her arm around my shoulder. The movie was Field of Dreams.”
“Ah, such a good movie.”
“It is, but it’s what my mom told me while we were watching that gave me that first bout of hope I needed. Mind you, my mom was never super thrilled with my love for baseball. She wanted a little pal of her own, someone to have tea parties with and play dress up, but unfortunately for her, I was never that girl. I hung around the ballpark with holes in my jeans and a backward hat on my head, long braids cascading down my back. But that day, when she took me under her arm, she told me how brave I was, how smart I was, and that if I build my own field of dreams, the people will come. I will never forget those words and that moment, ever.”
“Wow.” Carson is silent for a second. “That’s one of the best stories I’ve ever heard. Damn, Milly, you’re pulling at my heartstrings.”
“You have those?” I joke.
“Oh, I have a lot. Sometimes, late at night, I clutch my teddy bear and just cry for the hell of it. A good cry can be cathartic.”
“How come I don’t believe a word of that?”
He chuckles. “Probably because I’m a manly man. Testosterone oozes from me.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that either. I’ve seen you whimper when I accidentally peg you.”
“Accidentally?” He balks. “Puh-lease, you hit me on purpose when I’m not doing what you want.”
It’s true.
“Well, it teaches you to pay attention, doesn’t it?”
“My thigh is black and blue because of you.”
“Okay, that’s being a little dramatic, but also, not my fault that you don’t want to listen to me. Do as I say and you won’t get hurt.”
“You’re cold, Mills.”
I chuckle, not feeling the slightest remorse about my teaching techniques. And for the record, I don’t use the same