Page 140 of Wild Catch
“I hear that you come from a baseball dynasty. Is that so?”
“I—Yes, I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“What do you plan to do after baseball?”
“Also baseball, but in the coaching staff,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder. “Does that pay well?”
“Mom!”
“What?” Diana raises her hands. “I’m just trying to gauge if he can provide for you in the future.”
Rose grunts. “I’ll have a job too, you know?”
“That,” I say, pointing at Rose. “But also yes, it pays well. And I have invested most of my professional salary, so Rose and you won’t lack anything.”
This makes her drop the hot dog she was assembling on the table. “Me?”
“Rose told me you two are very close.” I scratch my head, wondering if I screwed up already.
“We are, but I thought Americans don’t give a hoot about the in-laws.”
I’m aware all of a sudden that at some point, my hand fell between Rose’s thighs and I’ve been running my thumb up and down her skin. I stop before this catches Diana’s attention, and make a plan to just put my arm around Rose when Diana’s back is to us again.
“Well, my father is Korean and I grew up more closely to his side.” After all, Korea is an easier trip from California than Sweden. “And uh, Koreans are very doting to their elders.”
“Then, are you?” Her eyebrows rise.
I take a deep breath. “Not to my own elders, I guess.”
Her eyes shift to her daughter, who says, “It’s very complicated. Logan’s family is…”
“They’re abusive and I cut them off.” They both look at me in shock for different reasons. Diana because no doubt she didn’t expect this. But Rose probably because she didn’t think I’d put it so bluntly. I try my best to appear nonchalant but make circles in the sand with my other hand.
Finally, Diana clicks her tongue. “Good for you. And you’re more than welcome into my family, but not because of your money.”
“Thanks?” I say when she adds no further color to that.
“That’s it?” Rose’s jaw drops. “No more invasive questions? He’s approved already?”
Diana heads our way with two paper plates heaping with loaded hot dogs and a potato salad, wooden forks wedged into them. As we take them from her hands she says, “I didn’t really need to. I know that he’s a good one based on what you’ve told me about him.”
My lips twitch a little but I say nothing.
“A good one?” Rose scoffs and reaches for a hot dog. “He’s the best one. A completely wild catch. A bit shortsighted at times but eh, no one’s really perfect.”
I can feel the rare phenomenon of heat in my cheeks, and I busy myself with biting into my hot dog. Flavors punch me in the mouth and I realize this isn’t your run-of-the-mill dog, but chorizo. Fortunately, even they pour their interest on their food, and for a solid half hour we do more chewing or drinking lemonade than talking.
After lunch, Diana laments that beaches here aren’t as good as the ones in her home country, with truly crystal clear water and white sand. Oddly, she misses that back there people can play music on their radios as loud as they want, but I think that would overwhelm me. They agree to introduce me to some guy named Oscar, and it takes me a few beats to realize that they’re talking about some singer and not a person, which makes them guffaw at my expense.
I don’t mind it at all, though. Rose’s mother is as easy going as described—talkative, buoyant, and friendly. Nothing that Rose has said indicates that this personality may change behind closed doors, the way I was conditioned by my parents, and I can feel myself relaxing the more time I spend in Diana’s presence.
I’ve never thought this about someone else, but I’m so damn glad that Rose grew up with healthy, loving parents, and that the only big suffering they gave her was losing one early. It’s why Rose is the smart, fun, and empathic person that she is. It’s why I love her.
*
Later, her mom has headed home for a moment to use the restroom and it’s just Rose and I under the sun. She’s tucked against me, her head on my healed shoulder while one hand lazily takes turns playing on my chest or my stomach. Then she finds one of the scars on my side, hidden from sight by the tattoos, but not to the touch. The scar is more of an indent than a relief, but she keeps running the tip of her finger softly over it.
