Take Me Out To The Ball Game

We were driving on a trip one day when he got the call. I didn’t know what it was about but sensed the smallest amount of…something. If there was one thing at which he truly excelled, it was masking emotion; face fixed, voice monotone, movement restrained, and words scarce. The call was the standard, purely informational, checking in, giving instructions, with his contributions limited to ok, uh huh, yep. He hung up and said his wife had been given tickets for the World Series and had booked flights. I told him that was great. A few minutes went by and he didn't say anything else. I asked him if he was going and he said no, she was taking their son. Another minute of silence. Now I knew what the something was I had detected on the call. Well, did she ask if you wanted to go, I asked, already knowing the answer. Nope, he said. Another moment of silence. Was there any mention of going along and maybe buying a ticket, or you have plenty of connections, I’m sure you could make some calls and come up with one. Yeah, I probably could, he said. There are plenty of tickets online I told him, you never spend anything on yourself, why don’t you call her back and tell her you are going to get one. Right, he said.

What he didn't want to say is that the tickets were from her family and he wasn't invited or welcome. It wasn't even acknowledged between them, they just glossed right through acting as if the situation didn't exist, and that it wasn't hurtful or humiliating for him.

We drove along silently for a while. I knew he was hurt. It was all but imperceptible to anyone but me, and it took me years to see beneath the layers of defense built over the course of a lifetime. Usually he would mask over it, make light and act as if there wasn’t anything wrong with the whole situation. That’s what they did, pretended, amidst the constant flow of hurts and slights. But not this time. This time he acknowledged the hurt and disrespect he felt. He had been wanting to go visit his father for months and said she kept giving him a hard time about spending the money, he needed to book it way ahead of time, he shouldn’t book the discount airline because if he had to cancel a flight they have no other flights, he had to spend more to rent a car so why couldn’t his 80 year old father come and get him, and on and on. I don’t want to go with her anyway, he said.

Have you ever been to the World Series? I asked. Nope, he said, the hurt hung in the air. Why don’t we go, when it goes to the other city, I said. I have already been looking into it, and it would be so much fun. I don’t think so, he said. Well, call one of your friends. No, he said, I would never hear the end of it. But I’ll tell you what, I am going to see my father.

I’m sorry you are missing out on this, I told him, once again trying to heal the hurt in his life that came from somewhere else. I was a tiny bit happy because it meant we could spend the night together. We had a great day, went to dinner and had a wonderful time. I did my best to keep him happy and cheerful. We had a toast, he got serious and told me he how happy he was to be with me, that everything is so easy and fun when we are together, and there was no place, and no one he would rather be with. We went back to my house, laid on the couch, laughed, kissed and watched the game. He was going to spend the night but I knew he would be worried about waking up so I told him it was okay, he should go. He was appreciative and as he left held me by the door and told me again how he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the world that night, than in my arms.