Page 6 of The Foul Out

The fuckers had the audacity to ask how I felt about the foul ball call.

What did they expect me to say?Wonderful? No. They wanted a sound bite they could run with. And I was primed togive it. Primed to blame anyone but myself. Ready to let the Boston fans take care of the issue.

“Want to know the truth?” I glared into the camera. “We lost this game because of one person, and it isn’t the umpire who clearly needs glasses. No.” I shook my head and let a dark chuckle pass through my lips. “Want a villain, Boston?” I smirked. “You’ve got one. A redheaded villain dressed in a white button-down.” I tipped my chin up. “Hopefully she knows better than to show her face in our city again.”

I was too mad to feel even the smallest bit of guilt when the Boston media ran with my statement.

With Sam on my hip,I attempted to wrangle Piper into the elevator. We’d already let two go without us. But Sam needed to get home. It was well after ten, and he was practically asleep, with his head on my shoulder. Piper, in true form tonight, wouldn’t budge.

“Too full.” She stomped her foot. “As stated on the wall on our way up, the weight limit is twenty-one hundred pounds.” Her words were robotic. “Assuming an average weight, that is twelve people. Limits protect the occupants. Too full.”

My daughter sounded anything but seven. In some ways, her brain was light-years ahead of mine, and in others, it wasn’t as mature as her younger brother’s.

I sighed. “You and Sam each count as half an average person, and by your standards, even I don’t weigh enough to be considered a full person.”

“Too full,” she repeated.

With a defeated sigh, I gave up.

Seven opportunities to step onto that elevator and a million dirty looks later, we made it down to the car and headed back to our apartment.

By the time I pulled into the lot by our building and parked in my numbered space, I was exhausted. But I lifted Sam out of his seat. Piper, of course, was still awake. On a night like tonight, sleep wouldn’t come easily for her. Getting her to settle took routine, and we’d messed that up by going to the game. The Revs’ loss only made it worse.

Catching a foul ball should have been exciting. Most kids begged for balls from the players. But in her mind, when I caught that foul ball, I committed treason. I didn’t get it. She had a ball from the team she adored. Win or lose, I wished she’d just be happy.

Now, somehow, it was my fault that the Revs hadn’t won. The team wasn’t to blame, nor was the guy who’d almost let a foul ball hit my three-year-old. Couldn’t blame the batter who went down swinging to end the game either. Nope, just me.

She hit me with a glare as she stepped out of the car, those brown eyes hard, then turned away from me.

Sam settled onto my shoulder again, hardly waking even after all the effort it took to get him out of his car seat. He was such a good sleeper. Hell, he was just about the easiest kid on the planet.

“My legs are tired,” Piper complained.

“Mine too,” I agreed. It had been a long day. And I wasn’t even a baseball fan.

The couple who stepped into the elevator with us kept their distance, giving us the side-eye.

Judgment. It was late, and my young kids were up. I got it. I’d been twenty-five once. Back then, I thought I was an expert on so many things, including parenting. My kids would be in bed early.They wouldn’t use iPads. They would eat vegetables and behave. I’d raise angels.

Then I had Piper and was almost immediately humbled. It didn’t take long to understand that people who didn’t have kids had no right to be the judge and jury. This shit was hard. And as much as I wanted to be that perfect mom, the one whose kids went to bed easily and slept well, ate three perfect meals that didn’t include sugar, and never went on social media, I lived in the real world.

I did my best.

And today, my half brother had blessed me with extra work.

Not fair, my brain chided.

He’d meant well, but buying tickets to a game he wasn’t taking the kids to see himself, on a school day, on a workday, without asking me, meant the activity was more challenge than entertainment. And since I tried my best to be the type of mom who rolled with everything, who was fun and admired for her easygoing nature, I’d agreed to take the kids, even going so far as to tell my brother and my daughter that the plan sounded great. Inside though, misery quickly consumed me.

Which made me feel even shittier. When had I becomethisperson? And why? There had been a time when I actually was fun. But that part of me had long ago been buried under a mountain of pressure and responsibility. Now, I was stuck with doing what I needed to do to get through this phase of life.

“The Revs won’t have another chance to make the World Series for another 372 days.” My daughter was clearly a numbers person.

I shifted Sam, wincing as I used my injured hand to prop him a little higher on my hip. I hadn’t truly understood how fast a baseball could travel until I’d put my hand up to save him from being hit with it. It was already swollen.

Once the elevator had stopped on our floor, we headed down the hall to our apartment. I paused outside it, and my heart sank as I took in the slimy substance running down the door. Had someone seriously thrown an egg? Boy, wasn’t this a super fun way to end a long day.

“What is that?” Piper asked.

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