After your mother died, I couldn’t sit in those bleachers. I tried once and turned around before I reached the gate.
You probably thought I didn’t care.
I did.
I came to three games.
I parked beyond the outfield fence where you couldn’t see me.
I watched Ben hit a double in one. I watched him strike out twice in another and throw his helmet in the dugout. He gets that temper from you.
I should have walked closer.
I didn’t know how.
I’m sorry.
For illustrative purposes only
Aaron stared across the empty field.
“He was here?”
Claire nodded through tears.
Aaron laughed once, but the sound broke apart.
Then he cried.
“Three games.”
Noah sat beside him.
After a while, Aaron said, “All those years, I thought he chose everybody else over us.”
Noah looked toward the field.
“Maybe he didn’t know how to come back.”
Aaron looked down at the glove.
“That’s not the same as trying.”
“No.”
Aaron seemed surprised by the answer.
Noah continued.
“But I think maybe this was him admitting it.”
Aaron nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
The third Saturday belonged to Noah.
The note contained only four words.
My house. Porch chair.
Mr. Vance’s house felt strange without him.
The porch seemed emptier than the entire property.
Noah sat in the faded wooden chair.
Nothing happened.
He looked at me.
“This is awkward.”
“Check underneath.”
