This is a well-needed break from sneak peeks.
I was scrolling through my list of ideas for this story and after being to two baseball games in the span of a month, I was excited to write this chapter.
Photo #94: Batter Up!
If Eadlyn was to be asked to describe her parents, she would use words like courageous, intelligent, determined, and all those synonyms. An adjective that she would never use is athletic. Her parents were not sporty whatsoever since they had subjectively better things to do with their time.
That wasn't to say her parents were terrible at sports, not at all. Her parents were just not good at sports. There's a complete difference.
Sports are a big deal in Illéa, as they are in almost any country. There was one time when her father was asked to pitch the first ball of the season. Eadlyn heard it was a success and based on this photo of her father in the middle of the baseball diamond, she would be persuaded into believing so. That gets Eadlyn thinking, maybe her parents have some athleticism in their bodies after all and if so, does that mean she inherited any?
-o-
In the cockpit stands Maxon, wearing jeans and shifting his weight from one leg to the next. His arms are crossed over the baseball jersey he's wearing for Illéa's home team. Ahead, he sees the baseball diamond being cleaned up for the upcoming game which is minutes away and when the clock's done ticking, he will be in the center, expected to give the first pitch of the first game of the season.
He feels nervous about this. In the spur of the moment, when this was offered, he said yes. It wasn't until the publicity of the event did Maxon realize that he wasn't up for this. He never really did any type of sports growing up nor was his dad the playing-catch type of father. He can't do this and he should've probably backed out but now hearing the cheering crowds and blasting music, there is no turning back.
"You look pale."
Maxon shakes back into reality when he hears America's voice. He looks at his newlywed wife who has her hair in two braids with a baseball cap on her head. She's wearing a jersey similar to his and skinny jeans with sneakers. In her arms is a variety of concession foods served in the stadium such as cotton candy, nachos, hamburgers, hot dogs, fries, various types of candies and gummies, a soda, and so much more. How she managed to carry all those in her small arms without staining her clothes or spilling anything made him feel grateful to wife her. Maybe she should be the one throwing the first pitch instead of him.
"What?" Maxon asks.
"You look pale," America repeats, placing her food on the bench. She picks up the fries and hands his some. "Eat something."
Maxon passes. America insists for him to eat something and he takes a nacho smothered in cheese ans jalepeño peppers. Then, he takes a seat on the bench beside the food.
"I can't do this," Maxon says. "I can't throw a ball."
America picks at her cotton candy. "Don't worry, Maxon. If this fails, not only will I still love you but there will be another thing you're unable to do."
"That seriously doesn't help."
"It wasn't supposed to. You're throwing a ball, not performing rocket science."
America stands in front of Maxon as he puts his head in his hands. She runs her fingers through his hair as a way to calm him down.
"America," Maxon starts, "this is the first pitch of the season and I'm the king. Don't you know how embarrassing it would be to fail at pitching?"
"I think it'd be hilariously embarrassing," America admits.
Maxon glares at her. America puts some gummy worms into his mouth and he knaws on them while keeping a straight face despite the overpowering sourness.
"Hear me out," America continues. "If you do fail at this first pitch, at least they will all be grateful that you're their king and not an actual player on the team."
America waits for Maxon to agree with her because she did have a point. Maxon just stares at her non-responsively. America takes more food and puts it in his mouth.
"You are lucky I didn't marry you for your motivational speeches," Maxon tells her.
"You are lucky I didn't marry you for your athletics," America responds.
She rests her hands on his shoulders. Maxon looks up and smiles at her. America cups his face, pressing her thumbs on the corner of his smile. Maxon takes her hands into his before standing up. He holds America's waist as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.
"I am lucky I did marry you," Maxon tells her.
"You really are," America responds.
Maxon takes a breath through her laughing as he gives her a quick kiss.
"I'm proud of you," America tells him. "I believe in you and I have no doubt in me that you will ace this." She pokes his chest. "How's that for motivational?"
Maxon taps her nose. "Perfect."
"Good, now, go show me your athleticism." She starts clapping for him. "My husband is throwing the first pitch of the season!"
Maxon grins at her as he's called onto the diamond. America continues cheering and that's when Maxon realizes that he's got this and if possible, he will knock this right out of the park. When he stands in place and has the baseball in his hand, he holds it there for a bit just to get used to how it feels despite him throwing it in a few moments.
Maxon takes a breath as he grips on the ball. He's still scared since so many eyes are watching him not only in the stadium but even at home. The only eyes he cares about right now are America's because she's his motivation, the umpire's because that's who he's throwing the ball to, and his own because he needs to see where the ball has to go.
As the cheers grow, Maxon feels the adrenaline filling in his body. He can really do this. It was a fight or flight situation but he sees it as both. He had to fight through his fear and make the ball fly. Maxon throws the ball and when it soars into the umpire's hand.
Illéa roars into excitement and Maxon sighs out of relief.
Does Illéa even have baseball? I don't know but just go with it.
Stay Tuned - When a baby is on the way, it's a good time to start getting crafty.
