The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate
Chapter 3
Owen
“Thank you again, Em,”I tell my sister as I grab my bag from the floor in the kitchen, along with the travel mug of coffee she made for me. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you being here with the kids while I’m gone. I owe you big time.”
“You owe me so big,” she says, not looking up at me as she continues to slice fruit for the kids’ lunches. “You’re basically going to be in debt to me until the day you die.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Well, you’re older, so you’ll definitely go before me.”
“That’s fine, because you know there’s a chance our parents will outlive us and I’m not going to be stuck with those two as centenarians. Can you even imagine?”
The horror in her voice is so thick, which makes me laugh even harder.
“Mom said she’d bail me out next time if I still haven’t found a nanny,” I say, walking over to the basket where we keep Molly’s school papers and making sure there’s nothing in there that needs my attention. The last thing I need is for her to break down on my sister over a paper not being signed.
According to her, it’s not the same if someone else has to sign it.
Shuffling through the stack, I snag a butterfly picture out and fold it up to stick in my bag. It’s cute and purple, but Molly drew a baseball off to the side of it. I love it. Not sure how I missed it before now, but it’s definitely going with me. I’ll show her tonight when we FaceTime.
“Well, hopefully, you’ll find someone between now and then,” Emily says, placing sandwiches and fruit into two lunch bags—one purple and one green. “Any promising candidates?”
Sighing, I shake my head. “No, not yet. Everyone I interviewed last week was either too old or too young. I’m not turning my children and home over to someone who looks like they go to ragers every night. The next thing I know I’ll be getting calls from the cops about frat parties on my lawn. No thank you.”
“Oh, my God. Do you realize how old you sound right now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “When did we become the adults?”
“Good fucking question.”
A sleepy voice from the hallway startles me. “That’s a dollar, Daddy.”
“What are you doing awake already, Molls?”
She yawns and walks into the kitchen with heavy lidded eyes. “I’m not tired anymore.”
Placing my bag on the floor, I go over to her and pick her up, wrapping her in a hug. I should be leaving, but I can’t leave without some proper goodbyes from my girl since she’s awake. “Gonna miss you, Molls. Be good for Aunt Em, okay?”
“I will,” she says, giving me all her weight as she lays her head on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck.
“No tears, right?” I ask, rubbing her back and hoping our talk from a few days ago helps. “If you’re feeling sad, all you have to do is call me. And if I can’t answer right away, I’ll call you back. And if all else fails, you’ve got Roger and he’s full of hugs and kisses just waiting to be cashed in on.”
Roger is the stuffed turtle she got at the aquarium when she was two. He goes everywhere with her and it’s become our ritual that I give him hugs and kisses to keep for her while I’m gone.
Whatever works, man.
“Right, Daddy,” she agrees, still sounding half asleep. “Besides, I don’t cry when Aunt Em is here.”
My sister gives her a soft smile from across the kitchen and then walks over and takes her from me. “That’s right, because Aunt Em loves you to the moon and back and we don’t need stinky, old Daddy when I’m here.”
“Stinky, old Daddy,” Molly repeats, but when she looks at me over Emily’s shoulder, I know she’s still going to miss me. And that’s okay with me. I don’t want her to ever stop missing me, but I do want her to get to a good place where she’s not so sad when I’m gone.
I hate that she’s worried I’m not going to come back.
That's the real root of the tears.
She finally confessed that to me after Marie left.
“Be back in five sleeps,” I tell them both as I make my way to the front door. If I linger any longer, I’ll be late for the bus. “Love you both. And tell Ryan to call me when he wakes up.”
Shutting the door behind me, I see my Uber is already out by the curb.
Thankfully, New Orleans isn’t too busy this early in the morning and the commute to the clubhouse is easy. I drink my coffee and watch the scenery change as we pass through the Garden District and into the French Quarter.
I really love this city.
Out of everywhere I’ve lived since I started playing ball, this is by far my favorite. Which is one more reason for me to make this work. I’d love nothing more than to retire with this team, when the time is right.
An hour later, I’m kicked back in my seat on the bus, dozing off when my phone rings.
“Good morning, buddy.”
“Hi, Daddy.” Ryan’s chipper voice puts an immediate smile on my face. “I’m ready for school and I ate all the pancakes Aunt Em made me. It’s Friday so we get popcorn and a movie. We’re watching Curious George. I love monkeys.”
This is basically how most of my phone calls with Ryan go and I couldn’t love it more. Sinking back into the plush seat, I let him talk until my sister eventually commandeers the phone.
“We’ve gotta run or we’ll be late for school,” she says with a chuckle. “We’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “Thanks again, Em.”
When the line goes dead, I lock my phone and shove it back in my pocket.
“How’s everything?” I hear a groggy voice ask from across the aisle.
Ross Davies.
He’s someone I’ve known since my college days. We started out as competitors but ended up friends. Played on the same team. Went separate ways. And then the twists and turns of life landed us both here in New Orleans. But where he’s an established member of this team, an unspoken captain, and someone everyone looks up to, I’m still trying to find my place.
I don’t begrudge him his success, but I can’t lie that I’m a bit envious.
He’s Ross Fucking Davies.
Exhaling, I finally respond. “It’s just going, man.”
As successful as he is on the field, he’s had his fair share of personal shit to go through the past couple years. His bitch of an ex-wife put him through the wringer and just as he was getting his feet back under him, he found out his not-quite girlfriend, Casey, was pregnant.
They’re married now, with an adorable kid, so it all worked out. But he put in the work to get here.
So, again, I don’t begrudge him the success and happiness, but damn, what I wouldn’t give to be in his shoes—at a great place in my career and have my personal life together.
“If you need any help with the kids while we’re gone, you know Casey is more than willing to step in,” he says quietly. “Whatever you need, man.”
I know he’s right. The entire team has been welcoming, not just to me, but my kids as well. Before Spring Training, Ross had all of us over for a cookout and everyone was great with Molly and Ryan. But it’s hard for me to ask for or accept help. My mom and sister are one thing. They’ve always been there for me, even at my lowest and worst times. When I’m a grumpy asshole, they call me out on it and we all go on. I couldn’t have made it through the past year without them, but I’m ready to be self-sufficient again.
Or as self-sufficient as a single dad who plays professional baseball can be.
“Did you find another nanny?” he asks after a few beats.
“No,” I grunt, sitting back up in my seat and resting my elbows on my knees. “None of the applications have checked out… too old, too young, not enough experience, not good enough referrals. It’s exhausting.”
Ross sits up in his seat, matching my stance, and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I can’t imagine.”
He has a new baby. So I know he gets it—how hard it would be to do that job alone and worry about who was going to take care of his kid when he's gone. At least my kids aren’t babies anymore. That part has made it a little easier—taken a small piece of the worry away—because they can tell me how they’re feeling and if something is wrong.
“At least my sister is with them this week and I can focus on these games,” I admit.
“I know you think you’ve been throwing shit, but you’ve had some solid innings. So, don’t get too deep in your head. Just go out there and throw some heat, enjoy the game.”
I chuckle grimly.
Enjoy the game.
Easier said than done, but I know he’s right.