care when she comes? I’ll just plan it with her and figure out all the details. Unless you don’t want me to,” she offered.
I was relieved by the idea of her handling all of that.
“That would actually be really helpful. I don’t have the time to deal with that right now.”
“I figured,” she said with a smile, her necklace bouncing against her chest as she walked. “She and I will get it all planned out, and then I’ll let you know.”
We reached her car, and I grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her to me. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“I can’t wait to meet her!” she practically shouted.
I wanted to tell her to lower her expectations. That my mom wasn’t like hers.
“She might be drinking,” I mentioned because I wasn’t sure if her trying to stop had stuck or not. Sometimes, when I talked to her, she sounded okay, but other times, her words slurred.
“She’s sober. She told me.” Sunny smiled again as she unlocked her car and slid inside.
“Why do you know more about my mom than I do?” I teased.
“ ’Cause we text every day.”
“Every day?” My eyes grew wide, and Sunny laughed as the engine roared to life.
“No, but I text her during your games and send her pics. So, it feels like every day.”
I hadn’t realized that they communicated that often. Sunny sent my mom pictures of me playing baseball? It was all too surreal. But better late than never, I guessed.
Baseball Sucks
Sunny
I
didn’t know everything there was to know about baseball, but I understood it well enough to know that Mac was having a phenomenal season. He started every single game at first base and was batting leadoff, which meant that he hit first in the order.
He’d had only three errors at first base the whole season so far. And after Coach had told him that there was a scout asking about him, it was all Mac had needed to hear to stay in a positive headspace. Every night after his game, he was so happy and excited about how he’d played. There was nothing like seeing him feel good about himself when he was on that field.
I went to every single home game. There were about two million fifty-five thousand of them, but I was always there, in the stands with the other girlfriends, cheering on our boys.
It was amazing when his mom came out for a big weekend series and stayed at the hotel on campus. Mac played incredible, and she looked like she’d had no idea that he was that good. Maybe she hadn’t. It was nice to meet her in person after all I’d heard. She looked healthy and was officially two-months sober. My parents had wanted to come down and meet her, too, but I’d forced them to give Mac some time alone with his mom, and they’d begrudgingly understood.
I thought it was for the best. When Mac said the light was coming back into her eyes, I knew that my sweet, broken boy was finally healing.
“This is so much fun,” his mom said from our seats behind home plate.
Mac had gotten us a pair of reserved seats for the weekend, so we weren’t sitting in the student section.
I looked at his mom as she wiped the tears away. “What’s the matter?”
“I missed out on this for so long. I could have been watching him play for years,” she said, clearly regretting all the time that she’d lost.
“At least you’re here now,” I said, hoping to ease some of her guilt.
“He doesn’t hate me, does he?” she whispered toward me, her eyes filled with regret and pain that her only son might not like her.
“No.” I placed my hand on her arm. “He doesn’t hate you. Your husband, on the other hand,” I started to say as her mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Ex-husband,” she clarified. “And I feel like I owe you an apology,” she said, and I swallowed hard.
“Me? Why would you owe me an apology?” I asked, wondering where she was heading.
“Because I stayed with Richard for so long. I feel like I allowed all of this to happen to Mac. I know you’ve picked up the pieces. I’m sorry I let him break for so long.”
My eyes instantly welled up. “Oh jeez. We can’t both start crying during the game. Mac will be mortified.” I tried to laugh. “That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”
After the game ended, the three of us went out to