“My father loved baseball, probably more than he loved me.”
Josh shakes his head, his mouth opening probably to dispute that fact, but I shake my head.
“You think I’m being harsh, but I’m not.”
The sadness that washes over him in this moment starts to bleed over to me, and I shut my eyes.
“In those last few days, he was really mean, angry, and hateful. The doctors all said it was just side effects from the trauma, but back then I didn’t understand why the man that used to tell me that he loved me every day, would spend most of his time ignoring me and wishing I didn’t exist.”
“Harper, he didn’t wish that.” His hands caress the side of my cheeks and for a second I lean into it, loving the comfort.
“I know that now. It took years of therapy to get to this point, but there are still days where I wish he could walk through that front door, smiling like he used to.”
He nods, understanding.
“Can I ask what happened?” he asks, and I give him a confused look. He knows what happened. Everyone in the industry knows what happened. “I want to hear it from you.”
I don’t know why that statement affects me the way it does, but I nod.
“It’s started like every other game; Mom and I got there early, I was on the field with him, loving every second. When the game started, I was antsy. I always loved watching him play, I would write down every one of his stats and we would always go over them on our way home.”
His eyes soften, realizing where my love of stats comes from.
“Then the fourth inning started, and my entire world changed.” My body goes cold, my eyes closing and remembering the day as clearly as if it happened yesterday and not fifteen years ago.
Josh’s fingers grip the back of my neck as my breaths come faster and faster. His head leans forward, resting against mine, and I realize that feeling him this close while my memories are taking over settles something inside me. He calms me.
Once my breathing goes back to normal, I continue. “I remember the sound of the ball hitting the side of his face. No one expected the ball to come straight back at him the way it did, and at the speed it did.”
Josh flinches at the memory as I try to find the words, but I come up empty.
We’re silent for way too long before I take a shuddering deep breath and try and regain my thoughts. “He was never the same after that day. No matter how many doctors he saw, or how many people he talked to. The trauma was too much for his brain. The trauma of never stepping onto a baseball field again ruined the man I once looked up to.” My eyes tilt to meet his, and when I see the sincerity there, when I see the understanding staring back at me, it gives me the courage to finish the one story I can never seem to finish.
“They told us when he was discharged from the hospital that he might be different. They told us that personality changes are normal after that kind of brain trauma. But it was sudden for me. I was ten and all of a sudden my dad wasn’t my dad anymore, you know?”
Josh nods, his thumbs lightly brush against the line of my jaw.
“Then one night his brain couldn’t handle it anymore. I walked into his office late one night, seeing that the light was still on, but when I opened the door he was slumped over his desk, eyes wide open.”
“Fuck,” Josh murmurs softly.
“He’d been having headaches for months, but he said they were just that, headaches, and nothing more. We begged him to get them checked out, but he refused. After he died, the doctors told us it was a sign of fluid in the brain, and I think that’s the hardest part to live with. That if we’d just made him go to a doctor that he’d be alive right now.”
I’ve never said that to someone outside of my therapist’s office. Admitting that my father’s death was preventable is a big deal for me because the guilt from that knowledge can be insanely overwhelming.
“I don’t want your pity,” I admit as Josh gives me that smirk I’ve come to love so much. “That’s not why I told you all of this. I guess I just needed to talk to someone that wasn’t my uncle.” I’m waiting for him to say the textbook I’m sorry for your loss but what comes out of his mouth is not what I was expecting.
“Harper, believe it or not, you are allowed to be upset. Just because a certain amount of time has passed doesn’t mean you have to stop feeling sad.” The look in his eye makes my lips turn up, and when our eyes meet, I’m rewarded with the sweetest smile. The one that, no matter how many times I try to resist, makes my knees weak.
“Thanks,” I say, starting to walk away, but he holds me still once more, stopping me.
“Are you free tonight?” he asks, and I automatically shake my head. No matter how good it felt talking to him, no matter how good it feels being this close to him, I can’t do this. I can’t let myself be a part of this world again.
“Don’t you have a game tonight?” I tease, knowing that he does and by the look on his face, he forgot.
“Shit, what about after the game?”
I give him a look, telling him without words just how unlikely that would be even if I said yes. There is no way I’ll be up late enough.
“What about tomorrow?”
I admire his persistence.
“It’s always going to be a
