Page 22 of Despite It All
For the rest of the walk, Wyla opens up a little more. She tells me about her job as a vet tech and tells me more about Stevie growing up. I feel her relaxing. It just reminds me of how easy it was to fall for her that night in Nashville.
“So, Seattle… You’re only in town for two weeks, right? What do you do there?” Wyla asks, hesitantly.
Oh yeah… is it bad that I had completely forgotten that I’m supposed to be leaving at the end of these two weeks? “Well, um, I play professional baseball for the Mavericks.”
Wyla pauses, looking at me with disbelief in her gaze. “Baseball? Like the Major Leagues?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, it’s actually why the hotel said they didn’t have me in their books. I was in town with a couple of other players to help one of my old buddies with a fundraiser. Since it was technically work related, our team manager booked the hotels, and he always books everything with aliases.”
“Of course he does. I cried to that receptionist for like half an hour.” Wyla starts walking again. “That’s certainly not a boring job. What do you do… play?”
I smile down at her and laugh. “I’m a pitcher… or well, was.”
“Was?” Wyla parrots.
“Yeah, I’ve technically been out for this first half of the season because of a rotator cuff injury.” Which reminds me, at some point I need to try to go do those workouts at that shitty gym, but they may have to wait another day. “I’m hoping I can start pitching some in a few weeks, but I have to be cleared first.”
Wyla goes silent again. Processing. “Do you enjoy it?” she asks.
“Yeah… I do.” Now guilt is starting to eat at me. I had planned on playing for a couple more years, but now that kind of feels… wrong.
Wyla clears her throat as she speaks. “You know… this feels like a conversation for the end of the week.”
“Wyla…” I want to tell her to come with me, but I know how unfair that is. We reach the beginning of the track and Stevie waits for us to catch up.
Wyla takes a deep breath and checks her watch. “It’s almost eleven, Stevie. Are you hungry or do you want to keep going, or—”
“Keep going!” Stevie shouts then takes off again.
I chuckle. “Great, then we’ll keep going.”
Wyla looks at me for a moment before starting again. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Nashville Night – 5 years ago – pt. 2
Across the street, she looks thoroughly at each ice cream flavor listed on the glass window. I know she wants strawberry. She's already ordered hers, but she’s taking my flavor choice very seriously.
“Ah, no way! Is this real?” she asks the teenager behind the counter, pointing to one of the flavors.
“Yeah, those two are a part of our monthly specials. All of the alcohol is cooked out, but they have those flavors.”
“It’s fate, he’ll take a cup of the Jack Daniel’s extreme chocolate.” She shoots a mischievous smile in my direction.
“Oh perfect, bourbon ice cream sounds great,” I say casually.
“It’s not bourbon, it’s Jack!” She swats me in my stomach.
I chuckle, and the guy places the cup of ice cream on the counter. “Here we are, and she’s right. It’s not bourbon.”
She hums, “See? Two against one. You’re wrong.”
I roll my eyes. With the way this kid keeps looking at Wyla, I’d say he’d agree that the sky was green if she said so—I probably would too though. I pay for our ice cream, and we walk out where some tables and chairs are set up.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask.
Wyla looks around. “It’s a nice night. Care to go for a walk?”
With her? I think I’d follow her anywhere at this point. I gesture for her to go first then fall in beside her once she decides which direction to go.
