The Boy of Summer

29 - Passed Ball

Pass Ball: A catcher is charged with a passed ball (abbreviated PB) when he fails to hold or control a legally pitched ball which, in the opinion of the official scorer, should have been held or controlled with ordinary effort, and which permits a runner or runners to advance at least one base; and/or permits the batter to advance to first base, if it's a third strike.

Present day...

Kenzie sat on the sofa looking at her shoes. Why did she choose those shoes? The heel was too high. She should have worn a lower heel. Walking on the grass would have been impossible if she didn't have Brandon to lean on. Poor Brandon, he was holding her hand, but she couldn't feel it. She was numb.

All around her, people were whispering. She looked up when she heard Maisy's voice. She didn't hear what she said except, "Jetty". She watched as he scooped her into his arms. The brooding look on his face reflected her mood. She wanted to look away, but his eyes caught hers. Both were locked in years of shared history and pain.

She didn't want to think about how good he looked in his suit. Had she ever seen him in one before? Brandon was whispering in her ear, she had to focus to understand him.

"Are you going to be okay? I really need to go see Paul."

"Go." She whispered back.

"I'm sorry, Kenzie." He kissed her lips and spoke to Betsy on the way out.

She asked herself, what is Fentanyl and why did it kill her? Then she felt guilt as she thought, it's a wonder she lasted as long as she had.

Poor Maise was without a mother. Betsy had been raising her and would continue, but not alone, never alone. Slowly, she stood and wondered why she wore such high heels.

Maise drew her over or was it Jett — perhaps both. "Hey," he said.

She reached out and touched Maisy's back. Maisy asked, "Kenzie, why are you so sad?"

"I miss your Mommy, sweetie."

Did she miss her? She missed the girl, she was and the dream of the woman she could be. She hated the woman she had become. She hated her when she screwed those three guys and when she was a shit mother and when she broke her promise and when she gave Kenzie the slip at the party. Yet she still felt sad. Maybe her sadness was for Betsy and Maisy. Maybe it was because she hated her best friend.

Jett whispered, "Where did he go?"

Kenzie replied, "To see his friend. He's recovered and mourning and I don't really care."

"Are you staying next door?"

"I don't want to, but I might have to."

"Let me take you home when you're ready. I'm not sure anyone understands what we're feeling, but us."

If she didn't want to be in the security of her own apartment, she would have refused, but she nodded.

Maisy asked, "Kenzie, can I have a cookie?"

She smiled because Maisy didn't deserve her frown. "Of course. Let's go see what kind there are."

"The spread wasn't large, but they catered it with sandwiches, salads and sweets."

Jett had arranged for it. Betsy had told her when they were planning the funeral.

Betsy looked at Kenzie. "I must have imagined this moment a thousand times, and you were always beside me. I thought I was preparing myself, but you can never prepare to bury your child."

Kenzie was sad for Betsy, but the grieving mother was composed. She was talking to her bank colleagues, and she looked more at peace than the turbulence swirling inside of Kenzie.

She watched as Maisy chose two cookies. No one would tell her not to eat too many. She felt a hand on her back and turned to see her father. She knew it wasn't Jett, because his touch was always hot.

"You okay, Kenzie?"

"Yeah. Just sad."

"I loved her too. I called you two K and K."

She smiled. "Like M&M."

"Too bad your brother couldn't come."

Kenzie nodded but knew Ben didn't care about Kim and hadn't for a long time. A sports commentator on talk radio was probably talking about Jett's bereavement leave. Speculation was probably swirling. He didn't look like he cared as she looked over as Maisy fed him part of her cookie. She shook her head to erase the memory of him feeding her the bottle.

Damn you, Kimmy!

Kenzie went into the kitchen and kicked off her shoes. She started cleaning up. She needed to keep busy.

As she turned towards the fridge, she saw a picture that had been there for as long as she could remember. Two girls were arm and arm with big smiles. They were about a year older than Maisy. Kenzie held a bat and Kimmy the ball. They were happy and innocent and didn't even know drugs existed.

The tears started and wouldn't stop. She leaned over the sink sobbing. Betsy found her and gathered her into her arms. Embracing in the kitchen, they cried together. Kenzie was too numb to identify her feelings. The tears came and then as if magic dried up.

Betsy said, "Thank you."

As she walked away, Kenzie wondered what she was thanking her for — cleaning the kitchen or crying together.

Kenzie put her shoes back on to return to the mourners. Movement in her backyard caught her eye. She stepped out the back door to see her father and Jett both with their suit coats off and sleeves rolled up. Her father was pitching and Jett was catching. Maisy was the batter.

She made contact and whacked the ball. The men were cheering. Maisy was smiling. Kenzie had survived without a mother, because she had love and baseball. Somehow Maisy would too, because she had lots of love.