Page 2 of Pitching for Keeps
Astronomical, I want to say. The odds were supposed to be astronomical.
"Tracy was big into the campus activities scene," Jay says carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. "Student government, right?"
"Among other things." Like being at every single baseball game, charting his pitches, bringing him lucky pennies I found heads-up on campus.
The waitress saves us by appearing to take drink orders. I ask for sweet tea and try not to remember that Jay used to tease me about my obsession with sweet tea, said I had more sugar than blood in my veins.
"So Tracy," Jake leans forward with a grin, "Megan says you're some hotshot marketing person in Dallas now?"
I launch into my prepared spiel about my job, grateful for the distraction. It's easier to talk about campaign strategies and donor engagement than to think about how Jay's fingers are drumming against the table in that pattern he does when he's nervous—thumb, middle, index, pinky, repeat.
"That's impressive," someone says when I finish. "Must keep you pretty busy."
"Oh, she always makes time for important things," Megan interjects. "Tracy's super organized. She probably already has our entire wedding week color-coded and scheduled down to the minute."
Everyone laughs. I force a smile and resist the urge to point out that color-coding is a perfectly legitimate organizational system.
"Speaking of the schedule," Greg says, "I thought we could all catch Jay's game tomorrow night! The Stars are playing at home, and he can get us tickets."
"You don't have to—" Jay starts.
"Are you kidding? We're definitely coming to see you pitch!" Tony raises his glass. "To Jay, a baseball king!"
Everyone toasts. I lift my sweet tea and try to look like someone who’s just going along with the baseball talk to not be rude. Kind of like I haven't been tracking every start, every earned run, every strikeout for the past five years.
"Tracy, you'll come too, right?" Megan asks. "It'll be fun!"
"I don't know much about baseball," I lie through my teeth.
"Jay can explain it to you," Greg offers helpfully. "He's an outstanding teacher. Helped me understand the infield fly rule, and that was no small feat." He chuckled and shook his head. “You’d think at the high school level I’d have at least had a clue about that rule, but that wasn’t meant to be until Jay took care of it.”
Jay meets my eyes across the table, and I see the moment he remembers teaching me the exact same thing freshman year, drawing diagrams on napkins in the dining hall.
"Sure," he says quietly. "if Tracy wants to learn."
The conversation moves on to wedding logistics, bachelor party plans, funny stories about Greg and Megan's relationship. I contribute when necessary, laugh at the right moments, but I'mhyperaware of Jay across the table. The way he still talks with his hands when he's excited. How he unconsciously rubs his right elbow—the one that needed Tommy John surgery senior year. The way he keeps glancing at me when he thinks I'm not looking.
"Oh!" Megan suddenly exclaims as our food arrives. "Jay, did you know Tracy lives in Dallas now? That's not far from Austin at all! Maybe you two could?—"
"Megan," I interrupt, recognizing her matchmaker voice, "I'm sure Jay's very busy with baseball."
"The season's actually just heating up," Jake offers unhelpfully. "All-Star break isn't even until July."
"Then I'm sure he needs to focus on training. Or... whatever baseball players do in the off-season." I cut my chicken with perhaps more force than necessary.
"Actually, I—" Jay starts, then stops. "Yeah. Training."
An awkward silence falls over our section of the table. Megan looks between us with the expression that means she's sensing a story, and the last thing I need is my sister the amateur detective on the case.
"So!" I say brightly. "Tell me about the bachelor party plans!"
The conversation shifts, crisis averted. But as Brian launches into a complicated explanation involving laser tag and go-karts, I catch Jay's eye again. He mouths something that might be "we should talk," and I pretend not to understand.
We can't talk. Talking would involve explaining why I told my sister I was too busy with post-college job hunting to come to his draft announcement party. I said I couldn't handle the uncertainty of minor league life when I was really terrified ofholding him back. I let him think I was choosing my career over him when the truth was so much more complicated.
No, talking is definitely not on the agenda for this week. I just need to survive seven days of wedding festivities, pretend I don't still know his stats by heart, and absolutely not think about how good he looks in that fitted Henley or remember what it felt like when he used to look for me in the stands before every game.
"Tracy?" Megan's voice breaks through my spiral. "You okay? You're doing that mumbling thing again."
