Page 78 of Off Court Fix

Maxine remains quiet, but I can feel the energy begin to turn as she comes out of her sleep.

“Look—”

“Under no circumstances,” Maxine cuts in, “can I be with someone who violates the law and puts my integrity in question. And to be honest, what you said about addicts? About my brother?” She sighs and shakes her head. “I’m angry about it. I’m hurt. But I hurt for you too because I don’t know if you even consider just how much your dad’s problems affected you, but that’s not something I can change, Crosby.”

She’s right.

“But as for you and me... we already shouldn’t—”

“Maxine—”

“Let me speak,” she demands, and I shut my mouth immediately. “We... there already shouldn’t be awe, Crosby. But there has been and there is, and I want to keep it going, even if all I get of you is bits and pieces. Those bits and pieces, they make up something whole to me. But if you’re involved with Hunter, that’s a hard line, even if you’re doing it with good intentions.”

I wait to make sure Maxine is finished and so she knows I’ve listened before speaking. “I’ve been done with the fixing stuff for a long time.”

“Because you decided it was wrong or you were afraid you’d get caught?”

“I was afraid I’d get caught,” I confess honestly. “And I earned enough to put away for my mom, so it no longer seemed worth it. No, I don’t think I would’ve kept going, but Hunter wanted to take it to another level when I moved up the ranks, and... it’s too risky.”

Maxine shakes her head. “Why didn’t you stop umpiring then? If you didn’t need to be around the scene anymore—”

“I told you last night. Umpiring, it’s important to me. I might not make a lot of money at tournaments. I might burn a bunch of vacation days. But when something is important, you don’t give up on it.” I take her hand, remembering what she said last night about being seen, and I hope Maxine understands, feels it in my touch, both what I just told her and what I say next. “That’s why, even though I know I’ve done wrong, I won’t give up on you, even if you try to push me away after all this.”

At this moment, it really hits me. At some point, a choice will have to be made—how we feel on the court individually versus how we feel off it together. I can’t figure out how to have—or give Maxine—both.

She looks down at our hands clasped together. “It was nice today. To meet your mom, to... just be a part of your life.”

My chest swells, and I nod because I don’t know how to describe the feeling. Maybe the only thing that could’ve made today better was holding Maxine’s hand as we walked up and down the harbor in Greenport.

“But,” Maxine continues, “I don’t know if we’ll have so many chances like that. Not while I’m playing. Not while you’re umpiring.” She sounds down, defeated, and I hate it.

I squeeze her hand. “Today... it was more than enough for me to have you there. And, since we’re being honest, I never would have taken my mom out of that place, even for a drive around the corner. It’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot because you’re afraid. You don’t visit because you’re afraid.”

Maxine is right. I do minimal visits and interactions because days like today aren’t the norm. I don’t know who I’ll see when I walk into my mother’s room, and I’m afraid of that.

“I kept a distance from Mason pretty much for the last five years before he died. I forbid him from coming to matches, I never talked about him. I... he lived in that house with my grandmother—my mom’s mom—and I came out twice in a year, even though it once was the happiest place on earth for me. The second time? That’s when he overdosed.” Maxine sighs. “You mean something to her, even if she can’t always tell you that. I meant something to Mason, even when his actions proved otherwise.”

I stare straight through the windshield. “How do you know?”

“Because there were sober moments with him like there are lucid ones with your mom. And all he wanted to talk about was us together or aboutme. People who matter, you hold on to that kind of love through sickness, health, distance, all of it.”

She’s right again because I hold onto Maxine during all kinds of moments, and that’s what makes this so hard—wanting someone who would be better off apart from me during all the moments. The idea strikes me so viciously I need to take a deep breath to push it from my mind.

Maxine offers me a sad smile before unclipping her seatbelt. She gives my hand a final squeeze before reaching for the door. “I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I watch as she stretches one more time before heading toward the path that leads to the side of her home. Quickly, I open the door. “Maxine?”

She turns, the pebbles shifting beneath her feet and mine as I walk around my car to her.

I cup her cheek and tilt her face up. “Thank you.”

There’s more I should tell her, more words Maxine deserves to hear, but I realize that simple and quiet works just as well when you mean what you say.

Maxine places her hand on mine, dropping an innocent yet intimate kiss into my palm. It’s not a kiss of forgiveness. It’s quiet acceptance, that you can disapprove of a person and the decisions they make and still hold space for them in your mind, body, and, I hope, in my case, in Maxine’s heart.

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