A Life of Inches

by Douglas Esper

  Tonight, she wears a darker shade of lipstick than normal, green tinted eye shadow, and highlights in her hair. This new look of hers reminds me of her college era style, when she truly came into her own. I find it beyond sexy, so I pull her back for another kiss.

  She pushes away, cheeks reddening. Molly has grown in many ways, but public displays of affection certainly aren’t one of them.

  Mr. Massey leads me to the bar. We toast each other and survey the scene around us.

  “She’s a lovely gal.”

  I nod in total agreement.

  “I’m glad my guy won’t have to compete with her for dollars tonight.”

  It takes me a moment to realize Mr. Massey represents one of the men to be auctioned. He has been a staple in sports as a mover and shaker for years, so I’m sure he has some high-profile guys on his management roster.

  “So, if I bid a lot on your man, does that grease the wheels to help me get the job?”

  I feel tension and carbonated bubbles tickle my throat. “Sorry, I’m just anxious and—”

  “Relax,” Mr. Massey says, reassuring me with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Lincoln likes you and they understand what you bring to the table.”

  I nod, my jaw clenched.

  “All right,” he says in a conspiratorial tone, glancing around the room. “I’ve been in your shoes, and I know you’re dying for some info. That about right?”

  I nod.

  “Management is dragging their feet in Nebraska. I don’t know when they’re going to make a decision. However, it looks like they want someone with more coaching experience than you can offer.”

  My head lowers to meet my drink, which I down in one gulp. I knew meeting with team officials it was a long shot without much coaching experience to boast. I was hoping Mr. Massey could talk them into giving me a chance. I motion to the bartender with my empty glass and a grimace, wishing the drink had alcohol.

  “Whoa, hear me out before you drink the bar dry.”

  I crunch a cube of ice.

  “Listen, I think this might be for the best.”

  “Oh?”

  Carlton Massey leans in a little closer as if preparing to divulge state secrets. “As early as the winter meetings, the Twins are going to announce that their Double-A Flint affiliate manager got promoted. They’ll need a replacement. I’d like you to throw your hat in the ring. The job could be a quick springboard, because you’ll be working with a good group of guys.”

  Too excited to speak, I process the offer by blinking so fast it causes a strobe effect. To manage at the Double-A level, this soon, would put my career on a fast track to the big leagues.

  Carlton jabs an elbow into my ribs. “There’s no doubt Molly will find you attractive in a Stones cap.”

  As I agree, the lights dim a few times.

  Appearing onstage, Molly steps up to the microphone. “All right, folks, we’re going to get rolling here in a few minutes. Please, if you’re one of our bachelors, make your way backstage for your numbered badges.”

  She pauses to listen to someone out of sight, nods, and then returns her attention to the crowd. “So, how we feeling tonight?”

  The female-dominated crowd begins a polite, conservative applause that by the end of the night will dissolve into a wild catcall of money, power, and alcohol-fueled confidence.

  “That’s a good start, but I’m going to need more energy from you, ladies. Let’s remember that last year we had three men place high bids to keep us from enjoying ourselves, so can I count on you to raise the stakes this year?”

  This time the crowd roars.

  “All right then, let’s get some drinks, break out those wallets, and meet some single men.”

  Though my strategy includes keeping my wallet secured in my double-breasted suit coat pocket and I’m off the market to all single men, I could get talked into another drink. Maybe I’ll get crazy and try a ginger ale.

  Molly walks offstage as the crowd applauds.

  Mr. Massey asks, “So, will Molly stay here during the season?”

  I shake my head. “We’ve talked about a long-distance relationship, but it just wouldn’t work. When she is out doing these events and I’m wrapped up in the season, we just wouldn’t have the time or energy to make it work. Now that she’s back to focusing on local city campaigns, she can move wherever I go and find candidates to line up around the block for a chance to work with her.”

  He nods. “Good deal. I miss my family more every time I leave town.”

  We clink our glasses together, and I say, “Well, maybe it’s time Molly and I got started on a family of our own.”

  The lights dim again.

  Molly appears onstage, holding a small stack of index cards. “Listen up ladies, it’s going to take a strong bid to win our first bachelor of the night. I’ve already placed my absentee bid with the auctioneer.” She winks toward a table with some of the wealthiest women in Ohio.

  A large projector screen lowers behind Molly, as multi-colored lights, flash, strobe and pulse along with thumping music.

  My agent points as the screen lights up, revealing the Chief Wahoo logo the Indians have used for decades. “Here comes my guy, right out of the gates.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Molly announces, her voice booming around the hall. “Please, give a warm welcome to former Cleveland Indian and current soap opera heartthrob, Jeremy Wilder.”

  I whistle in excitement and surprise, at the sight of one of my favorite players of all time. Sure, I’ve met Jeremy before, when Woodie won a contest back in high school, but tonight he could be my date. Woodie just might lose my thirty-dollar bid.

  By the time we leave, I’ve decided it’s time to start shopping for a diamond ring in earnest, for Molly, not for Jeremy. With a new chapter in my life set to begin, I want to make sure Molly can share it with me.

  Chapter Twenty

  May 14, 2007

  Though it took a few months longer than my agent thought it would, I landed the job up in Flint, Michigan. The first thing I did after accepting it was to buy an engagement ring. Tonight, during dinner, I’m asking Molly to marry me. The team can wait for me to arrive until tomorrow.

  As I drive to the restaurant, I’m struggling to keep my eyes on the road and off the ring. I swerve to the left and off the rumble strips lining the highway.

  I call Claire, Molly’s assistant, to make sure all the plans for tonight are still in place. Before Claire can even say hello, I ask, “Did she leave yet?”

  Claire groans. “Yeah, you spazz. She took off a few hours ago after she got some urgent call from California.”

  “Are things that bad?”

  “Don’t get me started. Molly’s been grinding, burning the candle at both ends just to stay on top of things. I thought Molly stole me from her mom so I wouldn’t have to deal with the senator’s never-ending workday, but now it’s like déjà vu all over again.”

  I think back to the affair Molly’s mother carried on at her office. “I hope it’s not exactly the same as working for Senator De Leon.”

  Claire says, “Just do me a favor and get her mind off politics tonight, will you?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  I’ve made reservations for a fancy restaurant in the newest hot neighborhood in Cleveland. With traffic playing another round of hurry up and wait, I should have just enough time to beat Molly there. The proposal will be simple and straight to the point. For once in my life, I want a night devoid of games and drama.

  The engagement ring screams modesty for two reasons. First off, I’m a manager for a minor league baseball team and the centerpiece diamond alone cost more than my salary suggests I spend. Second, and more importantly, it’s the perfect choice for Molly. Sure, the diamond won’t turn heads, but it sits on a custom crafted platinum band with roses engraved around it.

  Tonight my parents celebrate their anniversary, which will make asking her to join my family a little more special, even if my father still wo
n’t speak to me. My mom and, though I never thought I’d see the day, even Molly’s mother have both given their blessings. I’ve faced off against some of the best hitters of our time, so I ought to be able to ask one simple question of the woman I love.

  Entering the elegantly lit restaurant, I follow the host to a semi-private table. I order a bottle of wine, and start tapping my fingers. In the dugout, when I get nervous, I fill my mouth with a handful of sunflower seeds, but somehow I don’t think it will be appreciated if I start spitting shells on the spotless waxed marble floor.

  By the time I’ve mastered playing ‘When the Levee Breaks’ on my table drum, Molly finds our table.

  “Sorry I’m late. I—”

  “Claire told me today was bonkers.”

  Her hair looks damp and hastily put in place. She must’ve hit the gym and showered there, because her neck bears a couple red splotches from the combination of scalding hot water and the harsh towels they provide.

  Molly digs in her purse. She seems erratic, distracted. “Well, yes, things are blowing up, but I’ve been through this enough times to handle the chaos. I don’t know, my stomach is upset and I feel drained.”

  Unbuttoning her coat, Molly reveals an uncharacteristically flashy pink top with ruffles running from her neck to her midriff. Never good with compliments, I fumble for words to give this moment justice.

  Finally putting her purse aside and giving me her full attention, she beats me to the punch. “You clean up nice for a ball player.”

  To put in perspective just how enchanting I find Molly, I’ve known her over twenty years and yet I still can’t help staring when she flashes her unfiltered smile.

  Buttering up Molly with some buttered bread, I ask, “Care for a glass wine?”

  She nods, worry-lines crease her forehead. “Can they bring us each a bottle?”

  I motion to the waiter. “Sir, we’re going to need some guidance. I need a red, as dry as they come. What would you recommend?”

  When I first decided where to pop the question, I wrote a practice proposal out, but the vibe wasn’t right. In the end, I decided to say what I felt and let the chips fall where they may. After dinner, we’re headed to Molly’s mother’s house to share in the good news. My mother will also be there, waiting to congratulate her future daughter-in-law. The absence of both our fathers will be awkward and bittersweet.

  Unable to impress her with my knowledge of the elections she is aiding, I shoot for political humor instead. “I’d tell you your outfit is beautiful, but who knows if you got it from a legal source, or from some lobbyist trying to earn favor.”

  She rolls her eyes, but her grin appears playful.

  I clear my throat and loosen my tie. “I took the liberty of ordering in advance.”

  A surprised expression crosses her face. “I didn’t realize you knew how to say chicken fingers in French.”

  The waiter heads toward our table with our first course, saving Molly from a good comeback. Inside the soup tray hides the ring. I stand up to meet the waiter by Molly’s side as he lowers the steaming tray in front of her.

  Anticipation boils over as the waiter lifts the cap off. “For years, Molly...”

  I trail off as steam warms my reddening face, the thick scent of garlic announcing the hearty soup du jour. I stutter an awkward comment about the food and sit back down.

  Another waiter approaches our table, and it clicks. They must’ve switched the trays. If I’m right, this waiter is about to unveil an engagement ring right in front of me. Panic takes over and I move to save the situation.

  Alarmed by my sudden movement, Molly also pops out of her seat just as the second waiter arrives. She knocks into him. Horror-stricken, I watch as the lid flies off the tray, flinging the ring into the air. My instincts, mixed with quick reflexes, kick in. Pushing past the wait staff, I dive toward the flying platinum band.

  I follow the course of the ring right into my outstretched palm, which closes around it like a lazy pop-fly that died in strong lake effect winds. With a grunt, I crash onto the marble floor and slide a few feet as several curious patrons glance my way. Flashing my trademark sheepish grin, I stand and, displaying the ring out for the world to see, I make my move.

  Molly can now see what I’m holding, but it’s clear by her expression that she hasn’t quite put two and two together, yet. An unexpected crowd gathers around us, but not even a parade crashing through the restaurant can stop me from saying what I came here to say.

  “Molly,” I begin, kneeling in front of her and stretching the ring toward her hand. “I can’t offer you the world. I can only offer you myself, which I do, right here and now. I accepted the job in Flint this morning and I can’t imagine leaving without you. Molly, I love you with a passion I never thought possible. Will you be my wife?”

  Gasps and sighs erupt from the onlookers. The first waiter seems to be choking up with emotion, but now that I’ve said what I came to say, I’m calm as a clam.

  With Molly in my life for good, we can grow together and start a family together and follow our common dreams as one. While apart, we have both carved out lives of our own, so together we will reach new heights as—

  “No, Ryan. No.”

  My stunned gaze latches onto a necklace stretching for its life around the neck of a large woman seated at the table behind Molly. It’s a string of white pearls worth more than I’ll make this year. As Molly’s words silence the crowd, I can’t take my eyes off it. Doing so and making any eye contact with Molly would shatter me into a thousand pieces. As the shocked silence lingers, my knees begin to ache and the desire to throw the ring as far away from me as possible grows stronger. Before I drop my gaze from the overweight woman’s neck, I wonder if my jeweler will trade in this ring for a pretty pearl necklace. Doubt it.

  Molly sets her hands on my inner elbows and helps me stand. Silence returns. I can’t feel my legs beneath me.

  “Ryan.” Molly’s serene voice can usually calm me down during my angriest moments, but my blood pressure skyrockets with each word spoken. “I planned to tell you tonight that I accepted a position in San Francisco. This week, the San Fran Chronicle is running a column alleging some terrible things that will make life difficult for the city’s mayor. They need me there to help get her campaign back on track as soon as possible. I’m leaving first thing in the morning, so I wanted to talk to you about us. “

  I don’t speak. I can’t speak.

  “I thought I was clear when we started this whole thing that as long as you’re traveling all over the country with your team, I can’t be tied down and stuck waiting for you. I have a life, too. A life that I put on hold for a while for us to be together—but once again, you’ve made baseball your first priority. These elections could decide so much in our nation that I can’t sit idly by and watch the wrong people take office.”

  My words come out in a whisper I don’t even recognize. “Are you expecting me to buy this bullshit you’re shoveling right now?”

  Anxious, the waiter tries to step between us and speak, but I’m not having it. I give a look of warning so severe he stops dead in his tracks.

  I continue, a little louder. “Are you trying to tell me that I left you with no choice? You show up at my home, with no notice, after years of rejection, and I accept you without a second thought. And now that you have some opportunity to forward your career out west, you’re going to try and blame my job for affecting our relationship?”

  Incredulity fuels each word as I make every effort to hold off the anger seeping into my body. To my left stands an off-white pillar, covered by several fake vines, that I may need to lean on for balance if I can’t catch my breath.

  Another waiter, hairier and bolder than the first, steps in between us. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place for this.”

  Looking around at the stunned faces, I try to comprehend what’s happening.

  Molly is talking, but in my shame and confusion I miss the first few sentences. “�
�a good man, but right now I need to do this thing in California. Our country needs the right leadership, and like it or not I’m a part of the future of America. You have baseball again, so what do you need me hanging around for anyway?”

  “Hanging around? Is that what we’ve been doing? Molly, I love you. Why can’t we just be enough?”

  Molly appears pale, shaken, which given the circumstances isn’t a big surprise, but she also looks uncomfortable and overwhelmed. Why I should care how she feels as she pushes away is beyond me, but I still don’t understand why she’s doing this.

  “You’re living in a dream world, Ryan. Neither of us is ready to give up on our lives yet. Ryan, you and I are a great couple, but I’m never going to be a housewife, content to wait all day for you to get home. I have goals, ambitions and beliefs that I have too much conviction in to just sit back and let them die, just like you.”

  “And if I leave baseball to come with you?”

  Molly sighs. “Ryan, I’m not asking you to quit baseball. I’m asking you to quit on us. Let me go. If we’re meant to be, it’ll happen.”

  From a table nearby, a mustached gentleman exclaims “Jesus” under his breath. His wife smacks his shoulder and gives him an admonishing glance from underneath her feathery hat.

  I look down at my hand to assess why it hurts. Turns out, I’m squeezing the ring I bought to bond myself to the woman I love forever. It never even crossed my mind that she wouldn’t say yes.

  “Go then,” I croak.

  As I exit the restaurant, I hear Molly calling my name, but I don’t turn. What else can I say?

  I knew going into our relationship that Molly had issues with commitment and that I was a naïve fool to think she would never get the urge to pursue her career again on a national level. I guess I was just too happy to see the writing on the wall. I’ll never give up on Molly, but I do have to admit that, for an instant, I was scared she would ask me to walk away from baseball. Does the game still hold so much power over me that I’d hesitate to drop it for true love?

  If I have to pose myself that question, it seems to be answer enough.