The Perfect Game

“Yo,” Melissa answered, rowdy cheers screaming in the background.

“Melis?” I choked out.

“Cass? What’s wrong? Shit, I can’t hear anything. Hold on a sec, ’K?” She didn’t really ask. “Excuse me. I said excuse me, move please. Ugh. Cass? Cassie, can you hear me?”

The noise faded into the background with each word she said. “Oh my God, Melissa. I saw Jack tonight. He saw me. It was horrible.” The words tumbled from my lips.

“What do you mean? Slow down and tell me everything.”

“I finally agreed to go out with Joey from work. He’s super nice, by the way, but anyway. I guess he overheard me talking to someone about how I was good friends with a baseball player in college and how that player was on the Diamondbacks. Well, Joey thought it would be sweet to surprise me—”

“Oh no, he didn’t. This guy needs a Cassie 101 lesson,” she interrupted.

“Anyway, so he won’t tell me where we’re going and then we pull up at the baseball stadium because they’re playing Jack’s team and Jack was warming up and I lost it, Melissa. I fucking lost it.” I covered my eyes with one hand.

“Go on.”

“So I practically ran from my seat and Joey screamed my name. I mean, he shouted it so loud I think the people in space heard!”

“Oh my God.” Melissa sounded horrified.

“I turned around and Jack was just staring at me with this look on his face.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“I’ve never seen that look on his face before. I think he hates me.” I sobbed into the phone, wishing she was next to me.

“He doesn’t hate you. Stop saying that,” she chastised, her voice irritated.

“You didn’t see his face or his eyes. What do I do? Should I text him? Should I do nothing?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m so tired of doing nothing when it comes to him. For the last six months, I’ve just accepted that he hasn’t tried to talk to me. But the whole time I’m sitting here going insane trying to figure out why. I know I could end all my suffering by picking up the phone and talking to him. But do I do that? No, because that’s what a normal, sane person would do. And clearly, I’m neither.”

“I think you should text him. Or call. But you’re right. You should say something. This has got to stop between you two. Either work it out, or give each other closure and move the hell on.”

The word closure caused my insides to twist again. “I don’t want closure. I don’t want to move on.”

“I know you don’t,” she agreed calmly, “but this thing between the two of you…whatever it is…I know it’s not good for you. I don’t give a fuck if it’s good for him.”

“Okay, well, I think I’ll call him while he’s still playing and leave him a voice mail.”

“Wimp.”

“I know, but that way the ball’s in his court.”

“Let me know what happens. Love you.” She made a kissy sound into the phone before hanging up, and I dialed Jack’s number.

Straight to voice mail. “Hey, Jack, it’s me…Cassie. I just wanted to apologize for the craziness at the game tonight. It’s sort of a long story, but I…” I paused, my chest deflating. “I just miss you.”

He didn’t call back.

*****

Two weeks passed since the game which Melissa and I now referred to as “the incident” whenever it was discussed.

My doorman’s kind and raspy voice blared through the speaker box in my apartment. “Miss Andrews, there’s a package down here for you. Do you want me to bring it up, or would you like to come get it?”

“Can you bring it up, Fred? I’d really appreciate it.” I released the button before quickly pressing it again. “Unless you’re busy, then I can come down. Whatever is more convenient for you, Fred. Thanks.”

“Okay, Miss Andrews. I’ll be up soon.”

I plopped back onto my couch and continued to watch TV until the doorbell rang. I opened it to see Fred, dressed in his dark gray work suit and black bow tie. He was all smiles as he warned, “Careful, Miss Andrews, it’s really heavy.” He heaved the package into my arms.

“Holy crap, Fred, what the heck is this? Someone sending me weights? I’m sorry you had to carry this all the way up. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Miss Andrews. It’s my job,” he said with a warm smile that made me want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze.

I closed the door as he left, lugging the incredibly heavy package back onto the couch with me. I tore through the brown paper wrapping to reveal an old shoebox with a note on top.

I can’t live without your Touch. You’ll see that I’ve provided enough money to pay for at least twenty years or so.

I lifted the lid to reveal the entire contents of the box filled with quarters. My heart raced as my mind tried to figure out if this meant what I thought it did. I glanced toward the corner of my living room where the original mason jar filled with Cassie’s Quarters sat on a shelf. Confused, I reached for my cell to call Melissa when my doorbell rang again.

I tossed my cell on top of the quarters and shoved off the couch to answer the door. I cocked my head when I noticed Fred standing there, holding another box in his arms. “Fred?”

“Sorry I didn’t call. I just figured I’d bring this one up too.” He held the package out and I grabbed it, relieved that it didn’t weigh three hundred pounds like the first one.

Confusion sprinted marathons through my head. “Was this with the original package?”

“No, miss, it arrived separately.” Fred gave me a big smile.

“Okay. Thanks again,” I said before closing the door and returning to my seat on the couch.

I tore through the same brown paper wrapping to reveal another box with a note on top.

Your Passion is inspiring. I can’t live without the way you use it to see the world.

I opened the lid to reveal four individually framed photos that I had taken for the magazine’s website over the last few months. One of them was from when I’d first gotten here. He’d chosen some of my favorites of the scenes I’d shot of the city, the people I’d captured, and the way a building caught the light of the sunset. He’d been following my work the whole time.

The bell ringing caused me to jump from my current revelation. I peered from around the door to see Fred standing there yet again, another package in tow. “Fred, what’s going on?”

“I’m not really sure, Miss Andrews. They just keep arriving.” He shrugged.

“Okay. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t be. It’s kind of fun!” He laughed.

“Who keeps bringing them?” I asked, wondering if Jack was here before I realized that his team played in Houston this week.

“Some young kid,” he offered.

“Weird.”

“Weird indeed.” He nodded before turning away.

I took two steps toward the table closest to the door and sat, peeling the wrapping back.

Your Mind is filled with tests and goals and reasons why you should always say no. But I can’t live without you and here are reasons why you should say yes.

I removed a framed eight-by-ten photo of my rules typed in a girlish font that I wondered who helped him pick out.

Cassie’s Rules for a Happy Life:

#1 – Don’t Lie

#2 – Don’t Cheat

#3 – Don’t Make Promises You Can’t Keep

#4 – Don’t Say Things You Don’t Mean

Attached underneath rule number four was a handwritten note taped to the glass.

I know I’ve broken your rules and I don’t deserve a second chance, but I promise you that I’ll never break them again. I think it was Ghandi who said, “Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” I hope you have the strength to forgive me.

#1 – I lied because I was terrified of losing you. I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s the only reason I have for being untruthful. I’ll never lie to you again.

#2 – This one kills me more than I can put into words. I have no excuse for my behavior that night but I can only tell you that I’ll never even look at another girl again if that’s what it takes. I’ll never drink another drop. Just tell me what I have to do to get you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to forget, just forgive.

#3 – I promise to spend the rest of my life making you happy if you’ll let me.

#4 – I told you once that you were my game changer. I meant it then and it still holds true now. There’s no getting over you.

Tears dropped from my eyes as my heart caught in my throat. All my emotions jumbled together as I tried to sort them out but failed.

Another quick ring of the bell and I didn’t even attempt to wipe my eyes before I answered it. “Hi, Fred,” I said, the tears still rolling down.

“Good tears or bad tears?” His tired eyes widened at the sight of me.

“Good tears.” I snickered.

“Whew!” he exclaimed as he playfully wiped the non-existent sweat from his brow. “Here’s the latest.” He handed me a large manila envelope.

“Thanks again.” I reached for it before closing the door, already undoing the small fastener on the back.

Eye-rolling is bad for you, Kitten, and here are the reasons why.

I laughed out loud as I turned through the pages filled with ridiculous pictures of people and pets rolling their eyes. He attached a few completely made-up articles about “The Unknown Dangers of Eye-Rolling!”

I rolled my eyes as the doorbell rang for the last time. “Fred. I feel like I should just leave my door open for the rest of the night,” I teased.

“This is the last one, Miss Andrews,” he said, handing me the last brown paper-wrapped box.

I breathed in deeply before giving Fred a quick hug. “Thank you for not getting irritated by all of this, Fred.”

“It’s been fun. Have a good night.” He closed the door for me as I settled into the couch next to the box of quarters.

I unwrapped the box more slowly, knowing that it would be the last. There was an envelope taped to the top of the box that said Read Me First. With my emotions in overdrive, I ripped open the envelope, reaching for the paper inside.

Kitten,

Letting go of someone who owns your heart is hard. Sometimes holding on to that person is even harder. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, but you are.

It’s not that I can’t live without you; it’s that I don’t want to. There’s a difference. We all make choices in life and I choose you.

My heart belongs to you. And I’m not asking for it back, even if you don’t want it anymore. I’m just asking for the chance to have yours again. I promise I’ll be more careful with it this time.

Love Always,

Jack

I opened the box, the tears blurring my vision almost completely as I looked inside. The box was empty, except for a lone envelope that sat taped to the bottom with the words Read Me Last written in black Sharpie marker.