Page 155 of The Path to Loving Him
“You don’t have to thank me, Gabby. It’s really my pleasure. I’m just grateful I get to be a part of it.”
“Bennett loves you. Always has. You were one of the few coaches who had a huge impact on the way he played the sport. He was always good, but he developed under your teaching.”
“That means a lot, thank you.”
“It’s the truth.” She picks up another fry. “And I know he probably would have given you the extra ticket.”
That makes me laugh. “And that means even more.”
She joins me in her laughter, her face alight with so much joy that I feel like I haven’t seen in a while, maybe not ever. It makes me wonder how much of our ups and downs have affected her. I hate to think that I might have depressed her or put her in a bad mood in any way because that smile deserves to be seen by the world. It’s the type of smile that could make anyone’s day better . . . brighter. I know for damn sure it’s making mine.
But not wanting to get into any of that, I say, “What’s your favorite memory of Bennett playing the game?”
“Besides what we just witnessed?” she asks.
“Yes, besides that, before he called you and told you he was moving up.”
She brings her cup up to her mouth, staring out at the field as she thinks about it. “You know, there have been quite a few moments. Some accomplishments like his first home run over the fence, his first time batting for the cycle, his first stolen base, things like that will always sit in my memories. Still, I think one of my most prized moments was when he was in high school and had a terrible game, four errors at third, three strikeouts, just a really poor showing.
“Instead of getting down on himself, getting pissed and throwing his gear or just giving up for the day, he spent thatnight with a lamp from the living room lighting up the front of the apartment building we were living in, throwing balls against the pitchback, over and over again. Focused. Improving. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the player he was that day and that he was so much better. At that moment, I knew he’d make it because he persevered.”
“I remember that game,” I say as I turn my cup on the table, reminiscing on a shit game. “I remember the look in his eyes after that game. Normally, any other player would have looked defeated.” I shake my head. “Not Bennett. He was determined. He was ready for more.”
“He’s always been ready for more. He’s always been hungry. He wants to prove to everyone around him that he deserves to be where he is because of the hard work he’s put in.”
“He deserves it for sure.”
“I just hope he has a good game. I don’t need him to get a hit. I just hope he has contact with the ball. Solid contact.”
“Same,” I agree. “And if he happens to make a killer play at third, then that would be a bonus.”
She chuckles. “Just any play works.” She picks up another fry and dips it in the ketchup this time. “Can I ask you a question that might be sensitive?”
“Yeah, ask away.”
“Did you ever get called up?”
How did I know that was coming?
I shake my head. “I left before I had the chance.”
“What do you mean, you left?”
“I dropped out. I didn’t like being away from my family. My sisters were stuck with my dad, and well . . . he was an abusive asshole. He never touched them, but the fear that he might lived with me every day. It made it hard for me to focus. I was constantly calling Cassidy to make sure everyone was okay, and then I just . . . I couldn’t take it anymore, and I quit baseball.”
“I . . . I had no clue.”
“Not a lot of people do, actually. I never made it public. A lot of people just think that I didn’t have what it takes to make it, and maybe I didn’t because my head wasn’t in the game like it should have been. But I couldn’t chase a dream, knowing that my sisters were possibly suffering at the hands of my father.”
“Ryland,” she says, reaching out and taking my hand.
“It’s fine. I don’t regret it. I was able to get my teaching degree, and now I get to coach. I love my life, even when I feel the challenges of it heavy in my chest. I’d have made the same decision over and over again because my sisters . . . and Mac, for that matter, they’re my world.”
“I know that feeling,” she says. “The sacrifice you make to help your siblings. I truly understand your decision, and I commend it. I’d have done the same thing for Bennett.”
“You did something similar, didn’t you? You gave up a lot for him to have a better life?”
“Not sure I gave up a lot.”
