34. Nathan

For the next few days, thunderstorms rolled through Honey Creek. After a Saturday practice, I ran out to my car to avoid getting drenched in the rain. I hopped into my vehicle quickly and put the car into drive. The rain was coming down hard, making me take the roads a little slower than normal. As I was driving, I noticed a boy walking on the side of the road with a duffel bag over his head.

The closer I grew, the faster I realized it was one of my guys. I pulled the car over to the curb, rolled down my window, and shouted, “Cameron. What are you doing?!”

He turned toward me, soaked head to toe, and shook some water away from his blond hair. “Hey, Coach P. My dad forgot to pick me up. I was just walking home.”

I put my car in park, leaned over to the passenger door, and swung it open. “Get in.”

He hurried over and hopped inside, dropping his duffel bag into his lap as he slammed the door shut. I rolled the window up for him as he buckled his seat belt. “Thanks, Coach P.”

“No problem.”

“Normally, when he forgets to get me, it’s not raining that bad, so the walk doesn’t suck so much.”

“Does he forget you a lot?”

Cameron went quiet for a second before shrugging. “He’s had a lot on his plate since my mom passed away last year.”

“Oh…I had no clue, Cameron. I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It sucks.” He cleared his throat and raked a hand through his wet hair. “I’m good, though. Not a big deal. I live about ten minutes from here. I’m on the outside of town.” He gave me his address, and I plugged it into my GPS.

“I’ve seen your dad at the games,” I mentioned. “He shows up to all of them.”

Cameron huffed. “If you consider that showing up.”

I tried to push out a smile, but reality wouldn’t allow it. Cameron’s father was a drunk. He was always the loudest one in the stands, shouting out rude commentary toward his son whenever he was up to bat. He had a lot of damn nerve acting the way he had in public. It wasn’t shocking that Cameron had stage fright when it came to the game when the person who was supposed to be his biggest cheerleader was his biggest villain in the stands.

“My dad used to heavily drink, too, you know. He’d show up to my baseball games and embarrass the living shit out of me.”

“Yeah? How did you deal with it?”

“Tried my best to ignore it. Focused on the game in front of me and not on my wasted, unstable parent.”

“Did he ever get himself together?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Unfortunately, he passed away from alcoholism. The drinks finally caught up to him. He didn’t even get to see me play in my first big league game. Even though he was the reason I got into baseball.”

“Yeah? My dad is why I play, too. When I was younger, it was the one thing we connected to each other with.”

“Same with me and my dad. I was his oldest, and he tried to make me into his puppet. I had no problem with it, though, because I thought my father was the coolest person in the world. When he was sober, at least. When our family farm started to go to shit, he put a lot more pressure on me to perform better, to get the big contract to help take care of my family.”

“I get that kind of pressure, too.”

“Yeah. I figured.” I glanced over at him before looking back at the road. “Can I give you some advice I wish someone would’ve given me when I was your age?”

“Sure.”

“It’s not your responsibility to parent your parents. It’s your job to be a kid as long as possible.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, I know that, too.”

As we approached his house, I noticed Cameron’s dad standing at the door of his car, fumbling with his car keys.

The amount of embarrassment that crept over Cameron’s face took me back to my own childhood. I knew that feeling. The humiliation of others seeing your father drunk and stumbling.

I pulled into the driveway and put my car in park.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know,” Cameron stated softly. “Not before my mom died.”

I placed a hand against his shoulder. “Then maybe he’ll figure it out and turn the ship around. There’s always hope if we’re still breathing.”

He gave me a lazy smile and nodded. “Yeah. He’ll get there. I know it. Thanks, Coach P,” Cameron said before he hurriedly got out of my car and tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder. He headed over to his dad, patted him on the back, and the realization that Cameron had made it home was shown all over his father’s face.

His father dropped the keys again. Cameron picked up the keys and then placed a hand on his father’s back. Adam reacted harshly and shoved Cameron as he tried to get his keys. Cameron went stumbling backward, hitting the ground hard.

I flew out of my car and shouted, “Hey! Take it easy!”

“What the fuck do you want?” Adam slurred, his words dripping with confusion. He looked so drunk that he didn’t even realize we were there.

“Get back in my car, Cam,” I ordered.

“I’m sorry, Coach P,” Cameron said as he pushed himself up to a standing position.

“It’s fine. You’ll stay with me tonight. Keep his keys,” I told him. “He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight. I’ll get him back inside.”

Cameron looked at his father, then at me. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.”

I dragged Adam back inside the house. He didn’t make it easy, but I was much stronger than him. I plopped him down on the couch, and he muttered slightly before he lay down and passed out.

I headed back to my car and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Coach. I’m sorry again about that…” Cameron stated.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

I’d been Cameron before. I used to apologize to my teammates for my dad’s outbursts at games. I used to be ashamed when he’d get locked up for DUIs, and everyone in town would talk about it. I used to give the same waves of heartbreak to my own coaches.

No kid should’ve had to deal with that kind of situation at home. It was clear from the small interaction who was parenting who.

I just hoped Cameron’s father could figure it out in time before leaving his son with too many dark memories.