Page 98 of Despite It All
“Mommy, are you really gonna hit a ball?” Stevie asks.
“I’m gonna try. I can’t say I’ll hit it.”
Callie picks Stevie up. “Oh, come on, we think Mommy can hit the ball, right?”
“Yeah!” Stevie chants and holds out her little hands for some high fives.
“Alright. Wy, you’re up,” Jett calls.
Fuckin’ hell.
Jett gets me situated with a helmet that’s slightly too big. “Sorry, Adam tried to get the smallest one. Does it feel okay?”
“It’s a little big. Does that mean I’ll get out of hitting?” Jett shakes his head. “Then I’ll manage.”
He hands me a bat then whispers, “We may have to see if that closet is free, this is making me hard.”
I shove him in the stomach. “Get up there, so I can get this over with.”
At home plate, Adam helps get me situated showing me how to stand before squatting behind me. “You don’t have to swing at every pitch, Wyla. You get three tries. He’s not going to go easy on you, but he’s also not actively trying to strike you out. He’ll throw consistently, you may want to watch the first one to see how he throws.”
I take a deep breath. “Alright.”
“Hey, no coaching!” Will hollers from the side, so Adam flipshim the bird.
I chuckle, at least Adam’s got my back on this, somewhat. Jett picks up his foot, steps and throws.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as it flies past into Adam’s glove.
Adam chuckles and throws the ball back to Jett. “You got this, Wyla.”
“I’m not so sure.” With another deep breath, I mentally prepare myself to actually swing this time.
Callie and Stevie cheer for me but I don’t have much time to listen because Jett throws again. I swing but the unmistakable sound of a ball hitting a glove is the next thing I hear.
Adam throws the ball back. “You swung too early. Relax, Wyla, nothing happens if you don’t hit it.”
“What if I do hit it?”
“Bragging rights, mostly. Then I think Jett said something about a closet?”
I’m going to die of embarrassment today. Cool.
“Last one, Wy,” Jett calls from the mound.
I dig deep again for the confidence and athletic abilities of my sisters. Jett steps and throws for the last time. I swing, and fuck, if I don’t hear a ding noise this time.
It’s not the most beautiful hit but it still makes it to left side of the field. My hands are practically vibrating from the bat, so I drop it just in time for Jett to reachhome plate.
He picks me up and swings me around. “That’s my girl.” He sets me back down and gives me one hell of a kiss.
For a moment, all I hear are whistles and catcalls from some of the team, but then the unmistakable voice of our little girl comes through. “Mommy, you did it!”
Jett lets me go so Stevie can jump on me next.
“Good job, Mommy.” Her arms wrap around my neck.
Someone get me a tissue. It’s this dirt in my eyes, honest.
