Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Handwritten

My mom came up to Oakland for the Brewers at Athletics series. I was happy to see her, but she didn't seem very impressed with me as we shopped for Eloise at Target.

"How are you going to fix this?" she asked me as she examined some bibs. "How cute," she muttered under her breath.

I looked down at my feet to avoid her disappointed gaze. "She won't respond to me right now, but I'll be persistent. She'll come around." I didn't know if she actually would. I didn't know if I deserved forgiveness, but I wanted it. I missed her. I loved her. I needed her . . .

"I talked to her yesterday. She's still at her parents' house, I guess. She's traveling later to visit some cousins," my mom informed me.

"Traveling? She isn't supposed to travel."

"Just to Chicago. She has some family there, and she wants to spend some time with them before Eloise arrives and throws you both for a loop."

"Did she say anything about me?" I asked.

My mom sighed. "She said that she doesn't know what she's supposed to do now."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means she's considering taking a step back, and, honestly Christian, I understand her feelings. You essentially blamed her for you not being the consecutive frontrunner for MVP. That's complete nonsense. She moved to Milwaukee for you. She comes to all your home games regardless of how she's feeling. She respects your travel schedule and your independence. She has had some selfish moments, sure, but she has never ever blamed you for ruining her life like you essentially did to her. And she's the one carrying your baby. What have you sacrificed apart from bachelorhood?"

"Mom, I know I fucked up. I'll fix it. I love her, and I'll fix it." I had to.

"You throw 'love' around a lot, but you need to work on showing it to her."

***

We didn't get back to Milwaukee until late on August 8th. I hadn't heard from Annie in over a week. I knew she was physically okay because Hannah and my mom filled me in, but she avoided all my attempts at contact. I secretly hoped she'd be in our bed when I got back to our apartment.

She wasn't.

Instead, the only sign of her was a handwritten note she left on the kitchen counter. Everything else was gone. Marco and Polo. Her clothes. Her toiletries. Her books. Her shoes. She left all of Eloise's things in the spare bedroom. That was something, right? There was still a chance.

I brought the letter with me into our bedroom. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and emotionally braced myself for her words.

Dear Christian,

I'm sorry we couldn't make things work. I think we both gave it our best shots, but we're just not right for one another. Maybe if one of us wasn't "famous." Maybe if one of us was less emotional. Maybe if one of us was less stubborn. I can't expect you to change if I can't do it myself.

I'm hoping we can raise our daughter as friends. I know friendship may be difficult and take some time to build, and the romance may be hard to brush off because it feels incredible when we're on, but I think Eloise can influence us to be our actual best.

I'm staying with my parents until the off season. I don't want you to miss out on the first few weeks of her life. I know you'll be an amazing dad. I've known that since the evening I dropped the bomb that you were going to be a father. You came back for us. I felt so lucky to be on this adventure with someone who decided to care. I still feel lucky.

I love you, Christian, and I am so thankful for all the things you have given me.

Love always,

Annie

I wasn't going to accept this. I crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it in the trash.