Chapter 19

With less than twenty-four hours before the big day, I’m both relieved that it’s almost over and nauseous I still have to put the actual event on. I take my break at an empty booth in the back of Sassie’s, double-checking I have the appropriate paperwork for every team registered with my notebook, folders, and binder. I didn’t know I needed medical releases for each player until Aunt Joanie told me a few days ago. And now that the local news is covering it, I need media releases as well.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

Buried in my work, I’m startled when Gary appears next to me.

“Taking a break,” I tell him, going back to the checklist of names to cross-reference against the paperwork.

“Your break was over ten minutes ago,” he says, and I blink at him. He frowns at me in return. “It’s ten after two.”

“Okay.” I peer around the vacant tables. “The place is empty.”

“It is not.” He nods to a couple of tables at the front of the restaurant where people are seated.

“They aren’t my tables.”

“Your break’s over. You should be working, not doing this.” He flaps the edge of my binder up.

“Please don’t touch my stuff,” I say, righting the papers he’s shifted.

He ignores me. “We need the utensils and napkins refilled.”

“Come on, Gary. I have a lot to do.”

“I’m really getting sick and tired of your BS.”

I put my pen down to give him my full attention. “My BS?”

“Yes,” he says, a little less bold. “You could have a little more enthusiasm about being here.”

“You’re right, I could.”

My easy capitulation takes the wind out of his sails, and he exhales audibly. He holds his hands out to me, his jaw moving up and down, probably searching for something to say, but I don’t let him get that far. “Except this is a breastaurant with girls walking around in short skirts and knee-highs, the food is subpar, and the patrons are drunk guys with roaming hands. This isn’t exactly a Michelin-star restaurant. I’m here for a paycheck, not the enthusiasm.”

I gather up my stuff, leaving him stuttering after me as I head to the back to fold utensils up in the napkins. The rest of the girls who work here are barely legal or wasting their early twenties trying to make it into Sassie’s Lassies’ calendar. They may be afraid of standing up to Gary, but I’m not. He’s a simpering try-hard, who gets off on having the title manager on his name tag and showing the young girls how tough he is, along with those “biceps” he’s been “working on.”

Gross.

He has his eye on me for the rest of the shift, and I can almost perceive the reproachful words form in front of him, but I don’t let him corner me to release them. Instead, I focus on getting out of here and finishing up what I need to for the tournament.

When I do finally return home, I spend the rest of the night packing up my car with donated snacks and beverages to sell at the concession stand, triple-checking I have the paper tickets for the 50/50 drawing, along with each team’s paperwork, all the permits, and throwing together a first aid kit. It’s only a plastic bag of a couple of Band-Aids, Q-tips, and a tampon, but it’ll have to do.

My nerves don’t let me sleep, and I’m up and dressed with the sun. Shockingly, so is my father. We dance around each other in the kitchen as we make coffee, and after all the shuffling, pouring, and stirring is done, silence falls between us.

Ray and Dad never had these awkward moments. They always got along. I’m not sure why. It’s not like they had a ton in common. Maybe it was because they both had the XY chromosomes, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, Dad and I are missing it.

When he moves to another room, I scrub my hands over my face. I should talk to him. I should tell him I need a father, not like the little girl in the “Butterfly Kisses” song way, but in the You’re my dad, act like it way. Then again, I should drag my mother to the doctor’s office instead of playing into her mood swings, but I don’t do that either.

This is the new status quo, and it’s my fault. I’m not forcing a relationship, because it’s easier to let it go. The road less traveled and such.

I toss back the rest of my coffee and head over to the field. It’s oddly satisfying to systematically check everything off my list as I set up the registration table, tie balloons to the fence, and hang the signs. I arrange the snacks in the concession stands, even putting the candy in size order. When Aunt Joanie shows up, I put her in charge of the registrations. Juan, the rental guy, sets up the microphone and sound system as people begin to arrive, and in a matter of minutes, my calm state ratchets up to chaos.

More people are here than I thought would be. They sit in the stands, linger on the fields, and warm up, throwing balls back and forth. A bunch of guys from RJ’s high school baseball team greet one another warmly, his coworkers and students mingle, and even more faces I don’t recognize continue to pour through the fence.

I spot Vince out of the corner of my eye, dressed to play in what looks like his old high school baseball jersey and hat. The sight of him, wearing that, without my brother next to him is momentarily earth-shattering. Of course I knew I was doing this for Ray, but being here today is yet another reminder he isn’t.

Vince strolls over to me, holding Gracie’s leash in his hand as she lopes next to him, and I smile past my melancholy. “Hey, pretty girl,” I say, kneeling down to kiss Gracie’s face. “I missed you.”

She licks my face and hand, and I nuzzle her.

“Didn’t miss me?” When I tip my head up to Vince, he smiles like he’s joking, but his rough voice gives him away. “I figured you guys would like some time to hang out since you haven’t seen each other in a while,” he says, referring to Gracie.

I want to apologize for making it weird between us. I can’t help it, I want to say. He said he didn’t mind my mess, but he doesn’t know the extent of my life in disarray. I don’t even fully understand the extent of it. It’s not you, I should tell him. It’s me. Really.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say instead.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He hands the leash to me, checking out the size of the crowd. “You got a really good turnout.”

I stand up, shielding my eyes with sunglasses. “Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t sound too happy.” He fixes the bill of his baseball hat and tilts his head, doing his usual wary inspection of me.

“I’m tired,” I say, which could be the description of my life since February 14th. “I did it all by myself.” I gesture to him. “I mean, you helped, which is amazing. You’re amazing. But this took over my whole life, and for what?”

At that moment, Mr. Alvarado shows up, calling my name. He’s grinning brightly, with a hop in his step. “Cassandra, this is great!” When I meet his handshake, he uses it to pull me in for a hug. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”

“It is,” I agree, folding my arms over my chest.

“I’m ecstatic we were able to put this together,” he says, and I roll my head over to Vince. He grunts out a laugh. Mr. Alvarado didn’t put any of this together.

“Yep.” I motion to the parking lot, where my dad’s car pulls up. “My parents are here. Gotta go.”

I leave Alvarado and Vince behind while Gracie and I not-so-subtly sneak off. My parents are wearing the tournament T-shirts I got them, and they’re both smiling.

I never thought I’d see that again.

Mom brings her hands to her lips. “Wow, Cassie.”

“I’m impressed,” Dad tells me with his hands on his hips. He’s got sunglasses on, but I can tell he’s crying from the way he sniffs and clears his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you with it.”

Genuine disbelief has my jaw hanging open. At this conversation, and because he’s suggesting he would’ve somehow helped me.

“You did good,” he tells me. “RJ would be proud.”

A jumble of emotions clogs my throat, and I can’t separate any of my words into coherent sentences. This is my chance. I can lay it all out. Ask him why he hasn’t been coming home, tell him he’s a jerk, demand he face what’s happened to our family.

But I don’t.

I say, “Thank you.”

Because I’m a coward.

He pats my shoulder, in a “good game” kind of way. He’s not exactly emotional, let alone physically effusive, so this contact—even small—is a step in the right direction for mending our rocky relationship. I can work on telling him the truth later.

Maybe this tournament did help my family in some small way. Miracle of miracles.

Mom follows him with watery eyes to the concession stand where they buy waters, and my sudden goodwill toward my dad evaporates when he rolls his eyes at my now-weeping mother after one of RJ’s coworkers hugs her.

And I want to scream.

But I can’t. I’ve got a tournament to run.

I tuck my topsy-turvy mood aside as I check the time. Signaling to Juan to lower the volume of the music, I take hold of the microphone. “Hey…hello…” Heads swivel in my direction, and I try again. “Hi, everybody. Over here.” I wave my arm in the air, and my stomach churns when everything goes quiet, all eyes on me. I reach for the top of Gracie’s head, her fur reassuring under my fingertips. “My name is Cass, and Raymond was my older brother. I want to thank everyone for coming today. Seeing so many people here, hearing you speak about Ray, knowing what he meant to you all, makes losing him a little bit easier.”

These words are an absolute lie, but the crowd eats it up. Nothing makes losing him easier.

“Since Ray loved baseball, there’s no better way to honor his memory than to play a couple innings in his name. Let’s have a little fun today.”

A round of applause begins, and I move to put the microphone down, but Mr. Alvarado swoops in out of nowhere to snatch it from my hand. “Thank you, Cass,” he says and then sweeps his arm out in front of him, “and thank you all for coming. My name is Victor Alvarado, and I’m the principal of Edison Middle School. Go Leopards!”

That sparks a few woots and claps from the crowd, and I roll my neck to release the tension.

“RJ was a beloved teacher at Edison, and we were all devastated when we heard the news of his sudden passing.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose.

“His fellow teachers and some of his students are proud to be here to represent him on this beautiful day, and we cannot thank everyone enough for their generous participation in this event to raise money for our school.”

With my hand on my temple, I turn to my left, where the news camera crew is filming all of this. Mr. Alvarado’s big grin, the cheering crowd, the perfect blue sky, and I think it would make a feel-good ending to some movie, one where everyone learns to celebrate life or some bullshit.

I’m sick of Alvarado’s self-congratulatory speech and search for an escape. I spot my parents not too far away and make my way to them, keeping Gracie close at my heels.

“Do you want to say anything?” I ask them. Might as well, since the speeches have already gone off the rails.

“No,” Dad says.

Mom’s voice squeaks from behind her fist still pressed to her lips. “I think, maybe, I’d like to.”

“You would?” My eyes practically bug out of my head.

Dad is just as stunned. “Donna, really?” he admonishes.

“Well,” she starts, dabbing at her eyes, “it’s nice all these people came here for Raymond. It’s so wonderful,” she says, breaking down into more tears.

I rub her back, pleased for once she’s acknowledging all of this—the fundraiser, the grief, the death of her son, accepting it, almost.

“For Christ’s sake, you can’t talk to people when you’re a blubbering mess.”

My father makes her cry even more, and I throw my arms out to the sides. “Really?”

He peers over my shoulder as if he’s making sure my outburst isn’t causing a scene. I don’t care if I am. “I thought when Ray died, you’d find it in your heart to be a little nicer to everyone, but you can’t even do that, can you? You’re such a…” I pause, various derogatory names flashing in my mind, not sure if I can or should use them to describe my dad. Then again, the truth has to come out some time. “You’re such a prick.”

“Cassandra,” my mom says through her tears. “Don’t talk like that.”

“What?” I tighten my hold on Gracie’s leash and ground my feet under me. Guess the pressure of the tournament has pushed me to the brink, and there’s no turning back now. “You might be okay with him treating you like this, but I’m not.”

My father’s face goes red. “First of all, lower your voice. Second?—”

“Second, nothing,” I say, pushing his finger out of my face. “I know I’ve never been your favorite. I wasn’t easy like Ray. I didn’t fit into your picture-perfect idea of a speak-when-spoken-to little girl. I get it. But ever since he died, you act like your only child died. Thing is, I’m still here. I’m trying to show you both that I’m here. I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried to keep this family together, and I’m exhausted from carrying the weight for you. I did all of this,” I say, motioning behind me. “And all you can do—” I point to my dad “—is be an asshole, and all you—” I point to my mom “—do is defend him. I’m done with it.”

I spin around, blinking back the tears rapidly forming behind my eyelids and jog off, wanting a moment of quiet away from the circus, but a familiar figure stops me.

“Cassandra.”

“Nell.” My brother’s girlfriend.

Zeus save me.