These days, I don’t get to see my family very often. So when the boss called me in to his office yesterday, I didn’t expect him to give me a whole week off for Thanksgiving—but that’s exactly what he did.
I haven’t really been home to see my parents much at all since I went off for college. I was so busy with baseball and keeping up with my studies that I only got down to see them for a week at Christmas and a few weeks over the summer every year. Then I got this job. This will be my first time down to see them since I officially started work about a month ago…
My flight leaves at 3:30 this afternoon, so I better finish packing and say goodbye to Marvin.
Marvin starts tearing up when I say “bye” to him, and it takes me a while to get him to understand that I’m only going to be gone for a week. He doesn’t really have a family to go home to, though, so I don’t know if he really understands any of this.
I finally manage to calm him down (some), and I’m off to the airport. I pack lightly, only bringing one suitcase and my backpack, so I don’t even have to worry about checking any bags or anything. I stop at Starbucks to get a drink, then go to the bathroom (hoping that I won’t have to go on the flight) before proceeding to the gate. I get lucky and am assigned one of the first numbers in the first group to board; since this is a Southwest flight, that’s especially important, as it means I’ll be able to pretty much pick wherever I want to sit. When boarding time finally comes, I decide to sit in row 7 (seven is my lucky number, after all) and put my suitcase up in the overhead bin, sitting down in the window seat to the right of the aisle (my right, that is). I end up sleeping through the whole flight, only waking up when our plane’s landing gear makes contact with the concrete runway.
It’s a quick exit for me as I only have to grab my suitcase from the overhead compartment and go down to the pick-up area, where Josh Adams is waiting for me.
Josh has been my best friend since I moved from Oklahoma City to Foxborough at the age of 3, but we went to different colleges (he went to Vermont, I went to Florida), and this’ll be the first time we see each other since graduation (college graduation, that is). Josh is like a brother to me, and riding in his blue Civic is nothing out of the ordinary, especially since I never had a car and Josh was “stuck” giving me rides most of our junior and senior years.
It’s about a fifty-minute drive from the Logan Airport to Foxborough, and we manage to make it to the house (the house that I bought my parents after I got this job) before 6:30. My parents are already eating when I get there, so Josh and I decide to go grab a bite to eat at KFC. When we get back, it’s eight o’clock and my mom is putting Xander to bed.
Xander is my little brother. My parents divorced when I was three, but they got back together a few years back, remarried, and had another boy, who they decided to let me name. Xander is four years old, and based on the things in his room, he really likes Legos, teddy bears, airplanes, and baseball.
Baseball. Of course he likes baseball. He probably grew up hearing tales of my exploits on the field. Three no-hitters in my senior year of high school. Fifteen strikeouts in my collegiate debut. A fastball that sat around 91-93 but could hit 96 or even 97 if I really wanted to get it up there. And then, That Game.
My sophomore year was just starting, and I had gotten off to a good start with seven innings of one-run ball in my first game. In my second start, I got the first batter to strike out on three pitches. Then I got an 0-2 count on the second batter. I looked in for the sign. The catcher flashed two fingers, then three, then two, then one, then three. 2-3-2-1-3. That’s 11, so one, fastball. I came set, stepped back, turned, brought my arm back, released the ball, and fell onto the ground in excruciating pain. A torn UCL in my right arm. I was out for the season and would need surgery.
The surgery went so badly that it ended my baseball career. And, in fact, I wasn’t even able to throw a ball until the start of my senior year. From late February of one year to mid-July of the next, I didn’t so much as pick up a baseball, nor did I watch a single game of the sport I had fallen in love with. Then, on July 18, I finally did it. It happened in my dorm room that I shared with another pitcher, Wilton Ray. Wilton had actually taken my spot in the rotation when I got hurt, and had progressed to become the team’s regular Friday starter, the spot I had filled before the injury and the highest honor a coaching staff can give a pitcher in college baseball. We kept a baseball in the room at all times, and that day, I decided to try out my arm. I picked up the ball, told Wilton to stand about 20 feet away, and threw the ball for the first time since That Game. It was then that I came to understand that my baseball career was over.
Fin. I think that’s Latin or French for “the end”, as in the end of my baseball career and the start of my search for another pastime. I dabbled in a number of activities before finally coming back to a hobby I had loved in high school: skateboarding. My board was at home, though, so I borrowed a friend’s board for a while. I ended up breaking my board later that year, and have since replaced it twice. Maybe one day I can teach Xander to skate…
I get to sleep in my old room, although only my bed, desk, and nighttable remain. All of my other stuff has been moved either to our storage locker or the attic. I unpack my suitcase and change into the black lounge pants that I wear every night to bed. I hug my parents good-night and climb into the sturdy wooden bed. I fall asleep almost immediately.
The next morning, I sleep in and don’t wake up until 9:45. I shower and change into a T-shirt and jeans. I then eat a bowl of Frosted Flakes and a banana for breakfast, trying not to overstuff myself before lunch. Just as I finish brushing my teeth, our family shows up. My uncles Matt and James and my aunts Lori and Sharon, as well as my cousin Dakota, are all in attendance. We immediately get our annual game of football going—touch, of course. The teams are me, Dakota, and my dad against everyone else (Aunt Lori prefers not to play, though, and Xander’s too young, so it’s a 4 on 3 game). The game is always a lot of fun, and we don’t keep score, so the game just ends whenever we feel like it. Usually, Mom goes inside to work on the food about halfway through, and we’re left with a 3-on-3 game until everyone else decides to go in. This game is no different, and by 12:45, we’re all back inside, sitting around the long dinner table and saying grace.
My plate is piled high with all sorts of food: the usual carved turkey and spiral ham, along with candied yams (my favorite), stuffing, corn, mashed potatoes, and some rolls and cranberry dressing. After we eat, everyone pretty much just flops down in the living room to “watch football”, which in our house means “kinda watch the first quarter of the game and then fall asleep”.
Once everyone wakes up again, we have leftovers for dinner and start to watch the Bears-Packers game. At about eight o’clock, my parents announce that they’re going to put Xander to bed, and everyone else decides that it’s best to leave and head back to the hotel they’re staying in.
I’m tired, so I decide to hit the hay not long after that, and I wake up the next morning rejuvenated. I spend most of the morning hanging out with Xander; we decide to build one of the Lego sets he had gotten for his birthday, and end up having a lot of fun (and completing the set, a police-station scene, in record time). After lunch, the family shows up again, and we hang out all afternoon. The nine of us go out to dinner at a local hamburger place, and when we get back, we say our good-byes to the family, as they’re flying back to Florida tomorrow morning.
The next day is Saturday, and we decide to go to the mall. We go into Build-a-Bear, and Xander gets a stuffed black bear. We also stop in the toy store, but they’re going out of business, and the resulting clearance meant they hardly had anything on the shelves. It’s actually kind of depressing. I can remember going into that toy store all the time as a kid and being super excited about getting a new toy to play with. And now they’re closing…for good…
We also stop in Gymboree, but Xander doesn’t see anything he liked in there. Our final stop is at the food court for lunch; Xander and I both want Subway, and we both get turkey sandwiches—his a three-inch “kids’ sub” and mine a six-inch sub. He gets apple slices and chocolate milk with his, and I get chips and a Coke. Xander begs me for a sip of Coke, and after the tenth “please”, I finally cave and let him have some—a decision I would come to regret.
Xander bounces off the walls all afternoon, and I think we’re quite lucky that he doesn’t do any damage to the house (or himself). He finally crashes around four o’clock, falling asleep on the couch for about an hour, at which point my dad scolds me for giving him a taste of the sugary concoction. Sorry, Dad…I forgot just how hopped up little kids can get off of sugar…
We go to McDonald’s for dinner, and I take Xander into the play area after we finish our meals. It’s about thirty minutes before my parents finally tell us we have to go home. Xander starts crying, but I manage to calm him down on the ride home. “You’re going to be a great father one day,” my dad says. “What do you mean, going to be?” I tease. I think my dad almost had a heart attack right then and there, but I assured him that I was just kidding. Xander looked really confused the whole time; he doesn’t really seem to understand much of what’s going on around him.
My dad lets me bathe Xander and help him put on his pajamas, and after they put him to bed, the three of us stay up watching episodes of Seinfeld on DVD until midnight. My mom finally decides to go to bed just as the clock strikes twelve, and my dad follows suit. I go upstairs with them and get ready for bed, but stay up texting Marvin, who’s keeping me updated on the Black Dog situation. The latest word is that there’s been another fire at the lingerie shop next door, and Marvin relays a message from Ben citing that cliché quote about “it’s not how hard you fall…” and promising to be back in business ASAP. I finally fell asleep around one o’clock.
The next morning, I go to church with my parents and Xander, and a lot of people are surprised—and happy—to see me. Some of them ask me what I’m doing now, others already know and congratulate me, still others who know try to give me advice. Let me just go call Cleveland’s GM and see if he’ll trade LeBron for Patty Mills, Walter Tavares, and a couple draft picks…Yeah, right. Not happening, buddy.
After the service, we go home for lunch—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, a Sunday afternoon ritual in our household for as long as I can remember. After we eat, us guys watch football all afternoon in the living room while my mom reads upstairs. Xander falls asleep in my lap after the first game and doesn’t wake up until dinnertime. We order pizza for dinner—another Sunday ritual—and play a game of Candy Land afterwards. Xander schools us all and celebrates by dabbing, a move he learned from his favorite football player, Cam Newton.
I take a quick nap around ten o’clock, but make sure to get up in time for the start of Ethika’s big Cyber Monday sale. Everything on their website is priced at ten dollars, down from the usual price of around twenty-five bucks, and when the clock strikes twelve, I’m prepared, with two dozen pairs of my favorite boxer briefs in my cart and ready for checkout. My collection just grew enormously, I think as I finish checking out and fall asleep for good, wearing (fittingly) a pair of Ethikas.
I sleep in until noon, and when I wake up, Xander’s really in the mood for a game of catch, so I happily trot out to the backyard and toss a baseball with him for a little while. It feels awesome to be throwing a baseball again, even if it’s just twenty-foot underhand lobs to my kid brother…
After that, we eat a late lunch, and then Xander’s friend Mason shows up for a playdate. The two of them play together all afternoon, giving me a lot of time to work on those player evaluations. Mason leaves before dinner, and we have hot dogs and macaroni and cheese for dinner, the latter being Xander’s favorite food. After dinner, Xander tells me that he wants some help tomorrow morning, but he won’t tell me what he needs help with until then. I fall asleep around nine-thirty after reading a few pages of some random book I found on my nightstand—a murder mystery, it appears.
I wake up bright and early the next morning, and have plenty of time to help Xander. It turns out that he wanted me to help him spike up his hair and put on some temporary tattoos; I ask him if this is allowed at his school and he says yes. I then remember that I don’t even know what school he goes to and ask him; he tells me that he goes to a private preschool nearby. After his blonde hair is all spiky and his arms all inked up, I help him get dressed—he tells me that he’ll have to wear a school uniform if he stays at the school next year, but for now he gets to wear whatever he wants—and we go down to breakfast. After we eat, I hug Xander good-bye as he leaves to take the bus to school; I finish packing my bags and leave with Josh not long thereafter, hugging my parents as I stumble out the front door, faceplanting on the front porch. “Smooth,” Josh says as I climb into the passenger seat of his car.
I have a smooth flight back, and Marvin is relieved to see that I’m still in one piece when I finally arrive back at our apartment.
Now about those evaluations…I better share them with everyone…
_________________ Olive - she/they // NAPOLI FOR MVP // post count doesn't matter
yeah that log's dead too- i mean on hiatus (yes that one too) (seriously all of them now lol) (haha unless...?)
"All people are good for something. The important thing is finding what." - Tom
BrewersFuzz wrote: PEDs wrote: i think we banned him cause he was an idiot glad i never got banned for that
Second Member of the 10,000 Post Cult
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