When the waitress comes back, we place our orders, and an awkward silence falls between us. I fiddle with my napkin while my mom sips on her coffee.
“You don’t have much to say?”
“Just thinking,” I tell her.
“About what?”
Cooper and how he made me feel last night.
“Work. The new calf was born a few nights ago, and he’s about to make his grand debut to the visitors.”
“And that concerns you?”
No, not really, but I can’t tell her what’s actually on my mind, so I fake it. “It’s always a risk, putting a newborn out in the open, but the Board of Trustees want him seen. I’m nervous is all, for him.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” she asks, completely unaware that I had to change my job around to accommodate the cancer taking over her body.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I say, just as the waitress brings our pie over. “Thank you,” I tell her as she puts down the delicious concoction in front of me. My stomach growls with anticipation, and my mother laughs.
“Didn’t you eat lunch?”
“Yes, but I firmly believe that your stomach holds a special place just for dessert. Because while I ate a late lunch, I’m starving for dessert.”
I take the first bite, and the warmth of the apple pie mixing with the cold of the ice cream feels like heaven inside my mouth.
“Why did you take a late lunch?”
“Um…” I look up at the sound of rowdy laughter and smile. It’s good that they’re enjoying each other’s time and making the best of it. I’m still concerned with Cooper, though, and how he’s coping with what happened today. “I wanted to listen to the game.”
“I see.”
I wish I had the confidence to ask her exactly what the issue is. Shouldn’t my happiness be on the forefront of her mind? It shouldn’t matter if the guy that I like is white, black, or yellow, drives a truck, lives in the slums, or plays baseball. She should be happy that I found someone that I want to spend my time with.
“Are you ready to tell me your story?” I ask her. It’s probably not the best time to say something, but I want to know.
“What story?” She doesn’t look up when she answers, and I can’t tell if she’s being coy or not.
“Your aversion to athletes? It started long before I started dating Mark and grew exponentially when he cheated on me. But not all athletes are like that.”
She sets her fork down and wipes her mouth on her napkin. “There are better people in the world that I’d like to see you with.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. You have a specific hatred toward athletes, and I want to know why. I deserve to know why.”
I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to respond. She doesn’t at first, instead choosing to take another bite of her pie.
“Mom?”
She sighs and sets her fork down again. “I’ve known a few in my life, and none of them turned out be admirable. It’s not uncommon for a mother to want someone different for her daughter. Date a doctor or a businessman. Date someone who comes home to you every night and doesn’t spend half his time on the road where temptation will get the best of him.”
“Who is it that you dated? Is it my father that made you this way?”
“No, it’s not. Now finish your ice cream before it melts.”
She returns to eating, but the eerie feeling I have in the pit of my stomach leads me to think that my father is someone famous, or was. I’ve never known him, not even his name, and she’s never hidden the fact that he left before I was born. Deep down I know I have to get the information from her before it’s too late. If he’s out there, I at least want to know who he is.
It seems that the young rookie has a temper! We’ve all seen it in baseball, especially during the regular season when tempers flare, but never during spring training.
What is Cooper Bailey thinking?