Page 60 of Raise The Bar
“They are.” I approach the flowers with great hesitation. My hand hovers over the delicate blooms of the snow-white roses. I’m almost afraid they might bite me.
Once bitten, twice shy…
On a sharp inhale I pluck the tiny envelope from the arrangement and tear it open, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear my vision.
Maggie,
I miss you. See you soon.
Love, Mark
Chapter 33
Callum
“Ican’t decide if I want nachos or a hot dog,” my grandfather says from the passenger seat of the Ford truck I bought him a few years ago.
“Get both,” I suggest, glancing at him before turning my eyes back to the highway. “I won’t tell Grams.” We’re on our way to Tropicana Field to take in a Rays game. It’s our first game in three years, but Gramps has been taking me here since I was a toddler.
“She’ll know,” he chuckles fondly. “She always knows.”
I was supposed to leave on Sunday afternoon, but after the blow up with my mom and what happened after with Maggie, I canceled my flight. I clearly needed more time with my mom to talk through some things and I didn’t want to leave her without us both saying what needed to be said.
On top of that, I didn’t want to go back to Boston. I’d hurt Maggie and I didn’t deserve to be in the same city as her. Didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air. After she’d hung up on me, I’d tried calling her back but she didn’t answer. I left a voicemail and sent several texts asking her to call me, but got no response.
When I’d still heard nothing by Sunday afternoon, I was ready to call in reinforcements. Josh and Betty would not be happy with me, but at least they’d encourage Maggie to talk to me, right? But before texting Josh, something occurred to me that hadn’t before. What was I going to say to her? I’ve been begging her to reach out, but I have no idea what to say if she does. So I’m giving her time and hopefully when she’s ready to talk to me, I’ll have the right words.
I focused on the problem directly in front of my face. When I woke up late Sunday morning, head pounding from too much to drink, my mother was waiting for me with a cup of coffee. We talked. We talked until the first pot of coffee was gone and a fresh one was made. A lot of old wounds were opened up and maybe some fresh ones too.
My mom didn’t realize how much I’d internalized over the years. She was younger than I am now when she got married. I think when things took a turn for the worse with Steven, she went into survival mode. She was so focused on keeping her head above water, she didn’t realize the boy with the bright smile and cheerful demeanor might be drowning too.
I don’t blame my mom. We were both getting by the best we could and she didn’t understand how much I was struggling. Hell, I think I was so good at pretending everything was fine that I sometimes fooled myself.
She talked at length about her own feelings during that time. The heartbreak and the hopelessness of finding love only to lose it again. I never knew she blamed herself for the change in Steven’s behavior, but apparently she always felt it was her fault somehow.
There were more tears and more hugs. When the dust finally settled, I think we both saw each other a little clearer. She hasn’t brought up Daniel again. I think she wants to give me some time after everything we’ve just gone through.
I shake my head as I take the exit for the ballpark. I still don’t understand why she wants to risk putting herself in that situation again, especially after hearing first hand what her marriage was like. But that’s her decision to make, not mine.
It’s hard to believe I’ve been here a week now. I’ve been working remotely a bit, but mostly just spending time with my family and trying not to think about Maggie. It’s not working, but I keep trying.
The stadium is packed with fans. It’s a Friday afternoon game and school is still out. We get food and beers and settle into our seats. The Rays are playing the Blue Jays today. They’ve beaten us badly the first two games of this series. I’m not even mad about it. It’s kind of nice to watch someone other than myself suck at something. Gramps and I talk about line-up changes and batting stats in between the action.
The sun is hot. I drink my beer quickly, not giving it a chance to warm up in the cheap plastic cup. The mild numbness that spreads with the watered down alcohol is just a bonus.
“Daniel is nice,” Gramps says casually. We’re just sitting down after the seventh inning stretch. The Rays tied things up in the top of the sixth, but Danny Jansen of the Jays just hit a two-run homer, so once again, we’re behind.
“So I’ve heard.” I don’t take my eyes off the field.
“Do you remember your great-grandfather at all?” I give him a sideways glance as he sips his fresh beer.
“A little, but not much,” I admit. I vaguely remember a man who looked like an older version of Gramps that smelled like cigars. He died when I was around five, I think. “You never really talked about him.”
“That’s because I didn’t particularly like him,” he laughs quietly. “He was the stereotypical man of his generation. Thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen and children should be seen, not heard.” It’s hard to picture anyone like that raising my grandfather. “Having that man for a role model…well, let’s just say that I wasn’t very eager to start a family of my own.”
“What changed?”
“I met your grandmother. I swear, that day she told me off when I was lying there, bruised and bleeding, was the best day of my life. I started saving for a ring before we even went on our first date.”
