Page 50 of The Cannon
She had set up the waiting room as if we were at a party. The theme baseball. Three boys and a girl accompanied by their siblings and parents attended. Fuck. It made them all happy just to share an afternoon and a meal with a few Memphis Mavericks.
I’m learning how little it takes to make an impact on a sick child’s burden. To say it’s eye opening is an understatement. For me it’s been life changing. Since that day my focus has widened. And now I have three passions. Bristol, children and baseball. In that exact order.
We looked at my schedule and added once every other month hospital visits to the pediatric floor of Bristol’s hospital. This week she’s talking with the parents of a hospice patient. I want to do it all while I have the celebrity. Who knows how long fame will last?
Then there’s the foster children. My heart. Bristol had a stroke of genius that night when she came up with the idea. Finally, today’s the day. The first five will spend the afternoon and early evening with us.
She came up with the suggestion of seeing a play the kids would connect with,The AddamsFamily.
Memphis Children’s Theater is a good introduction into this new world. It was my choice for the restaurant. Thinking back to my own foster days I knew nothing too fancy was the way to go. The familiar is safer to begin with.
I’m late to pick up Bristol at January’s baby shower. The one good thing about it is I don’t have to make an appearance now. There’s not a man I know who enjoys looking at breast pumps and diaper purses. Whatever the hell they’re called. The women seem to get off on the event.
“Just pull up in front. I’m going to text her,” I say to the driver.
The bald head and powerlifter body makes me think of The Rock.
He pulls the van into a space that looked a foot too small. Good job, man.
Sawyer: I’m in front of the restaurant
I wait for her response which comes quicker than expected.
Bristol: Okay. Give me a minute to say my goodbyes
I know what that means. I swivel the seat and stretch my legs out. This is going to take longer than a minute.
“Hey. How close are we to that first address I gave you?”
“The church?” he says looking into the rearview mirror.
“Yeah.”
He looks at his GPS. “Five, ten minutes.”
I spot Brick. He’s walking away from the entry to the restaurant, carrying gifts to his car. “Blow the horn,” I say.
The sound gets Brick’s attention as I bring my window down. “Over here!”
Looks like he’s trying to carry three gifts too many. Walking up, he leans in adjusting the packages.
“Hey, George,” he says nodding to the familiar Mavericks teamster.
“Brick. How you doin, man?”
“Good. What are you two up to?” he says directing the question to me.
“Your sister and I are taking a few kids to a play and dinner. I think she and your wife talked about it on the phone last night.”
“Oh, that’s right. Listen, if it goes well we should talk about maybe taking it to the next step.”
“Meaning what?”
“You want to pick a cause you connect with. Early on in your career,” he nods his head. “We can talk about it next week.”
I roll the idea around for just a few beats. “Great. Let’s do it.”
But my real interest lies in who’s walking up to the car. She pulled my attention as soon as she walked out the door.
