Page 34 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

“I’ll be there.”

Ever since AJ started playing sports, Zoe, Dawson, and I agreed that we didn’t ever want the stands to be empty. We all knew that if Austin were still alive, he’d be there, or make sure someone was. Growing up, Austin always talked about how much it meant to him that his Grandpa Walter never missed one of his games.

Austin never knew his dad. His mom came home from her first semester in college pregnant. Then, when Austin was four, she ran off with a boyfriend to Florida. Walter stepped in to raise his grandson.

“Do you want me to pick up Walter?” I asked Zoe.

Walter was in his mid-nineties now and didn’t drive anymore. He lived with Zoe and AJ, but, like Grandad, had been talking about moving to Sunset Shores for a while now.

“Oh, that would be great! Thanks, Harlan.”

“No worries.”

I glanced over at the farmhouse as I disconnected the call. My plan had been to stalk the house and wait for Daphne to appear outside so I could say goodbye to her, but it would have to be abandoned. I needed to grab a shower and go pick up Walter, or we’d miss the first pitch.

Disappointment swelled in my chest. I should feel grateful for the time I got to spend with Daphne. It reminded me what it felt like to feel alive. To feel connected to someone. To feel…anything.

I just wish I had more time with her. But then again, somehow I knew, even if I had forever with Daphne Moore, it wouldn’t be enough.

15

DAPHNE

“Daphne, darlin’,if y’all don’t answer that thang, I will!” Aunt Rhonda’s voice infiltrated my deep slumber.

Awareness hit my consciousness in stages. First, I was aware of the loud threat my aunt was making. Next, I heard a ringing sound, which I quickly identified as the ‘thang’ Aunt Rhonda was referring to. After that, I was struck with the reality that my eyes were glued shut, or at least, that’s what they felt like. It was as if they’d been dipped in cement.

With more effort than should be required, I forced my lids open only to find that my vision was blurrier than a Monet landscape. When I tried to reach for my phone, my arm also felt coated in dried concrete. I attempted to sit up only to discover that my arm and eyes were not the only victims of invisible mortar; my entire body was heavy.

When I was finally able to overcome my perceived physical limitations, grab my phone, and look down at my screen, my sight was still hazy, but I was able to see I had ten missed calls, and they were all from Alexandra. The other numbers of note on my device indicated the time. It read 4:15. That couldn’t be right, since my flight was at 3:45.

No. That couldn’t be right.

Adrenaline fueled me, infusing my bloodstream like I was mainlining a double shot of espresso.

“What the fuck?!” I cursed beneath my breath as I checked the time on the alarm clock. It also read 4:15.

I’d slept through my flight.

Was that why Alexandra had called me so many times?

No. It couldn’t be. How would she know that I wasn’t in the air? This was a personal trip, so she wasn’t privy to my travel arrangements.

I was still trying to wrap my head around my current predicament when my phone started ringing again. It looks like I wasn’t going to have to play the Why Is My Boss Blowing Up My Phone guessing game.

“Hello.” My scratchy voice sounded like I was ninety and had a three-pack-a-day habit.

“Daphne?” Alexandra questioned.

It was actually flattering that she hadn’t just assumed it was me.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are yousick?” she asked with all the maternal/nurturing nature of Bette Davis inMother Dearest.

Alexandra had been a germaphobe before the pandemic, but since the global health crisis, her condition had worsened. As a rule, everyone she came in contact with was treated with general disdain, but if you dared to sneeze or God-forbid cough, you might as well have the black plague. You were a ‘walking petri dish of infection and disease that should be burned at the stake.’ That was an exact quote.

“No. I just, um, I lost my voice last night,” I lied.

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