by Anthology
“So, where were you when the Cubs won the World Series?” I ask her as a way to get my mind off of sex. Not that that’s easy.
“With my dad,” she says and smiles. “He was a nervous wreck watching that game. We had made plans to watch it together and I got off work late that day.”
“Where do you work?”
“I’m a waitress at Charlie Trotter’s whenever I can pick up a shift and make some extra cash.” I nod and she continues, “I was late getting out of work and hit every red light on the way home. I ran into the house expecting my dad to immediately catch me up on what I’d missed, but instead he had the game paused on the DVR. A half hour late and he waited for me to begin watching.” Her eyes become a little glassy and I get it. A diehard fan like that, pausing and not watching game seven in real time, well talk about restraint. “It’s such a small thing, but I’ll never forget it. He cared more about his promise to me, than the game. Not that I questioned that, but it’s a small act of love that at the time I didn’t really appreciate until after he was gone.”
Her comment makes me think of my pops and thoughts of him begin running through my mind. I know exactly what she means.
“Anyway, we watched the game together. Cheered and yelled at the TV like all the players could hear us. And when they won, the look on my dad’s face…well I’ll never forget it. My dad wasn’t an emotional man as far as displaying them publicly. I can count on one hand how many times I ever saw him cry, but when the Cubs won? He cried.”
“Well, it was a very emotional moment. They came back from having lost and the odds were definitely against them, and overcame the curse, if you believe in that stuff, and it was such a long time in coming, I can definitely understand why he found it emotional.”
She looks at me for a moment, her eyes running over my face, and a slow smile appears. “You totally cried when they won too, didn’t you?”
I clear my throat and push my chest out just a little. Because I’m a man. A manly man. “Crying doesn’t make me less of a man. It makes me caring and sensitive.”
“Did you have to look that up on the Internet to make yourself feel better?”
“No. I bought a self-help book titled, Real Men Do Cry and More Things They Do.”
She begins to laugh and I join her. I like the sound of her laugh. It’s finally our turn in line and we both order a polish sausage with kraut and another beer. I’m again impressed. I kind of thought she would order one of their apple chicken sausages, but no, her choice was basic, traditional. Walking over to the condiment table, we load up our buns and then walk over to the railing to watch the game. I need to see the score and figure out what’s going on since the crowd made quite a racket while we were talking and waiting. I mean, I was willing to stay with her and didn’t want to rudely and blatantly turn around and look at the TV while she was talking about her dad. But I must keep track of the game.
We stand and watch the game for a few minutes while we eat. While she wipes her mouth and reapplies lip junk, I grab my phone out of my pocket, mostly out of habit I guess, and notice I have a few missed calls from my dad. He didn’t leave a voicemail, but I immediately call him back. “Dad, hey, you called?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to get hold of you because I knew you were here and wanted your opinion on a couple things, but I can’t talk right now. We’re getting ready to do a quick presentation between innings of the World Series trophy to the fans. I’ll get in touch with you later, okay?”
“Okay, talk to you later.” I hang up the phone, and pause for a moment, as my mind spins. It’s not uncommon for my dad to ask my opinion about various things in the park, that’s not what has me thinking—it’s the trophy presentation. “Ruby, come on. I have an idea, but we have to move right now.”
She nods. “Let’s go.”
I grab her hand, because it’s easier, yeah that’s why, and start maneuvering through the crowd. We are on one side of the field, and need to be, of course, on the other. After a lot of excuse me’s, and many near collisions, we arrive at the entrance where my dad should appear to commence the halftime presentation. This is the closest field entrance from the executive offices.
Placing my hands on my knees I take a moment to catch my breath and see Ruby doing the same. Smiling at her, I explain, “My dad told me that they are getting ready to do a trophy presentation to the fans.” I can’t say anything else because right then, a crowd of a few men and security surrounding the trophy comes into the area and it’s chaos. Frantically, I search the crowd of people looking for my dad until I find him in the middle talking to Mike. “Dad! Dad!” His head swivels in my direction, and he smiles.
“Jensen, hi. I’m glad you’re here. Come onto the field with us,” he says before I can even ask.
“Can I bring a friend with me?” I ask gesturing to Ruby. My dad looks at me a mixture of curiosity and knowing in his eyes.
“Sure, that’s fine, but let’s go.”
I turn and gesture to Ruby, and she takes hold of my hand and smiles ear to ear. “Oh my god,” she whispers, excitement evident in her voice.
“Be ready,” I whisper back, “And please, don’t let anyone see.”
She nods, and we begin making our way down the tunnel that goes right onto the field. Just as we come out of the tunnel and the sunshine hits our faces, I turn and look at Ruby, a smile on my face, happy that I’m able to help her make this happen. My smile immediately falls when I see the look on her face. “Jensen,” she whispers. “Oh no.”
Inning Five
“What’s wrong?” I ask her while simultaneously moving quickly with everyone else to the center of the field.
“I don’t have the ashes!” she whispers, but the words are so unexpected it’s as if she yelled them.
“What do you mean you don’t have them? Where are they?”
“I don’t know!” She frantically pats her pockets, and opens the small bag that’s across her body and goes through that too. She looks at me, her eyes wide and panicked. “I must have set them down or something, because they aren’t here.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper and frustration tenses my jaw as I run my hand through my hair. My dad glances at me and the excitement in his eyes turns to momentary confusion and his brow furrows. I smile quickly at him, and he turns away, his attention needed elsewhere, but not without glancing at me one more time. “Well, we can’t just walk off the field, so go with the flow for the time being and then we will retrace our steps, okay?”
“Okay.” Ruby nods.
“Relax.” I take her hand and squeeze it. “We’ll find them.”
She nods and smiles at me. “You will never know how appreciative I am, Jensen.” I nod, but can’t help but hope that she’s going to prove it later.
The presentation of the trophy begins with the commissioner of baseball saying a few words before handing the microphone to my dad. Mike stands next to him proudly holding the huge trophy, and they each say a few words about how fortunate they are to own the greatest team in all of baseball, and commend the great players and outstanding coaches and managers. They rev up the crowd and the entire team comes out, a few of them saying a few words to the crowd, since it seems all eyes are on them. The trophy is passed from player to player, each kissing it or stroking it as they hold it for a moment. When the trophy gets to the Cubs General Manager he holds it up high for the fans to see and the stadium goes crazy. Standing in the middle of the field watching everyone’s reaction is something I’ll never forget. I glance at Ruby and see that she’s feeling the same thing. She looks over at me, and smiles widely.
After the GM provides a few final words to the crowd, the ceremony is over and we are quickly escorted off the field so the game can continue. Just as I start to grab Ruby so we can go find her father’s ashes, my father calls my name, “Jensen!”
Turning, I move to him and he puts an arm across my shoulders, “Cool, huh, son?”
I smile, “Yeah, Dad. It’s really coo
l. Thanks for letting me go out there, but I’ve got a question. Why did that just happen in the middle of the game? Why not before, or at the seventh inning stretch, or after?”
“We’ve had stuff every single inning, haven’t you been paying attention? It’s the first game back since we won the World Series, we wanted to be…unconventional.”
“Well, all right then, today has definitely been that,” I reply, not talking about the game because I clearly haven’t been paying attention at all.
“Now, why don’t you grab that pretty girl you’re with and come in the suite for a few and drink some champagne with us? I’ll even make sure I have a car bring you back to your place afterwards so you can indulge a bit.” I smile and nod. There’s no harm in a few drinks, well…a few more…what have I had already? Five? Six? Anyway, if I said no, he would find it strange and I don’t want to answer any questions.
“Thanks, Dad, that sounds great. I’ll go grab Ruby.”
He nods and someone else quickly captures his attention.
“My dad asked us to come to the suite and participate in a champagne celebration with them. We need to at least make an appearance, but it will be crowded so we can have a drink and go. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. I understand.”
“Okay. I know you want to go find the ashes. We will.”
“I know.”
We follow the group to the suites and Ruby whistles to herself when we walk inside. It’s quite lavish with a spectacular view of the field and large screen TVs strategically placed in case anyone wants to watch something a bit more up close. Even I’m impressed with the particularly sweet spread of food and drinks available today. We take one look at each other, smile, fill our plates with some food, and then head over to the drinks. We set our plates down, and I pour us each a quick shot of tequila, hand her the glass then raise it, “Because we deserve a reward for our epic try. It was a great effort. And here’s to our search for the ashes. And, perhaps, we need something because we couldn’t pull it off.”
“I’ll definitely drink to that. All of that.”
We throw the shots back and I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment from the burn. Then I grab us each a glass of champagne and we move to the corner of the room where seats are open at a small table. We each eat and catch up on the game. Inning five now and the Cubs are up three to zero, so that’s good at least.
“It’s like one big party in here,” Ruby comments while looking around at everyone.
“It started during our great season last year and they’ve been on a roll ever since. The World Series win—and hopes for a repeat—has certainly only escalated things.”
“Really?” Ruby asks with a little laugh.
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny. They’ve been really celebrating during the off-season. I mean, I guess I can’t really blame them considering it was 108 years coming.”
“That’s how long since they won before, right?”
“Right, they won in 1908, and they appeared in seven World Series’ games since then, but never won.”
“Wow, I didn’t know they were in the World Series seven other times.”
“Probably because the most recent was in 1945.”
She laughs, “Well you’re right. I don’t blame them for celebrating either.”
“Right?” And we laugh and each finish our food and champagne. “Ready?” I ask her looking around for my dad, but not seeing him anywhere. It’s the perfect time to head out.
“Ready.”
It was too good to be true. Just as we reach the door, I’m stopped. “Leaving already?”
Turning to smile at my dad, I nod. “Yes, Ruby is here with her sister and we are heading back to our seats.”
“Are you enjoying yourself, Ruby?” my father asks her kindly.
“Yes, sir. Thank you for the champagne and food.”
“You’re welcome. You a big Cubs fan, Ruby?” my dad asks and I barely keep myself from sighing out loud.
“No, sir. I prefer the White Sox.”
It may just be my imagination, but it isn’t only my father that stills at that proclamation. The thing is, in Chicago, you can’t be a Chicago Cubs fan and a White Sox fan. It just isn’t done. It’s either one team, or the other. Everyone knows that. Everyone. My dad’s face reddens and I start to wonder how the hell I’m going to diffuse whatever insult is going to come out of his mouth when Ruby laughs. “Gotcha. Of course I love the Cubs!”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Favorite player?”
“That’s easy, I have an eye for your starting third basemen, KB—Kris Bryant.”
Not ready to believe her yet, he asks, “When and why do we fly a white flag with a blue ‘W’ on it?”
“After a win, the ‘W’ stands for win.”
My dad nods. “Last one, who is our most beloved Cubs broadcaster?”
“I’m a Cubs fan, and a Bud man. I hope you are too,” Ruby says quoting Harry Caray’s famous Budweiser commercial line and it makes my dad and I laugh.
“All right, I can’t doubt you after that!”
“My dad made sure we were Cubs fans. He wouldn’t have allowed anything but.”
“Sounds like a good man,” my dad says. “Please excuse me, it was nice to meet you Ruby. You’re welcome to the suite with Jensen any time. Jensen, I’ll have a car here for you before the game ends so it’s here whenever you’re ready. You know where it will be waiting. We can come back and get your car tomorrow.”
“Dad, you don’t have to—”
“No arguments, I insist.” He gives my back a hearty pat and walks off.
Looking at Ruby I grab her hand, which is becoming familiar now, and we walk out of the room. “Well played in there,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she giggles and sways just a little. I laugh back. We’ve both had a hell of a lot to drink and I’m definitely feeling the effects—though luckily, just a little—for now.
“Okay, we’ve got to go find those missing ashes before someone walks off with them or something. Wouldn’t that be a strange surprise?”
Her eyes widen and she appears to sober for an instant before she cracks up laughing, “Oh god, can you imagine if they thought it was like pepper or something like that?”
“That’s disgusting,” I reply and we both laugh. “All right, let’s go.” And we head off to retrace our steps and I pray to god we find them because even though we may be laughing, I know Ruby would be really upset if we didn’t. And that would suck, and it would also mean my chances of getting laid would disappear. Priorities.
Inning Six
Ruby does a quick check of the restroom where she stopped after we ate, but doesn’t find the ashes there. “They have to be where we ordered our food, or where we ate,” I tell her.
We walk up to a long table with bar seats where we sat to eat our dogs and the jar isn’t there. Next, we look at the counter where we placed our orders and there’s nothing. “Oh god, they aren’t here.”
We stand and stare at each other for a minute until I point. “The condiments table.” I put mustard and relish on my polish and she opted for ketchup and mustard. We each run over to the table and find the small jar of ashes among the bottles of salt and pepper. I try not to think too hard about that, from the look on Ruby’s face, she’s doing the same thing. Our joke from earlier doesn’t seem so funny now.
“How did they end up here?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I don’t even remember having them in my hand. I don’t know why I would have. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.”
“At least we found them.”
“What now?” Ruby asks.
“I don’t know. That was definitely our best opportunity and we missed it,” I tell her honestly.
“I think I need another drink,” Ruby says with a sigh, and given the fact I have a ride home, I agree. “Why the hell not?”
We each order a beer and Ruby buys mine, insisting she owes me for all of my help. “Let’s go sit back in our
seats while we try to come up with something else.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
We make our way back down to the seats, and as soon as we sit down TJ and Opal ask excitedly, “Did you do it?”
“We saw you on the field! You did it, right?”
“Not exactly,” Ruby says with a grimace.
“What do you mean?” Opal asks confused.
“When we got down on the field I realized…I realized I didn’t have the ashes on me.”
“You didn’t have them?” Opal repeats, disbelieving.
“No. I…well…I temporarily lost them, but don’t worry,” Ruby pats her pocket, “they are safe and sound again.”
“Well shit, man. That was the perfect opportunity. What are you going to do now?” TJ asks and I look at him in annoyance.
“Why don’t you tell me, TJ?”
“Fuck, man, sorry. You don’t have to get pissed.”
I’m not really pissed I guess, but he shows up with these girls, and yes while I owe him some thanks for introducing me to Ruby, he drops this problem in my lap. While I drink my beer, then drink another that TJ orders for me most likely out of guilt, I half-heartedly watch the game. Ruby is drunk. Her laughter and giggles start coming more frequently and more loudly. She’s also becoming touchier. Her hand easily finds its way to my thigh, around my shoulders, my knee; she even massaged my neck a bit ago telling me I looked stressed.
“Jensen,” she whispers while her lips are pressed against my ear, “it’s okay. We tried and I really appreciate it, so much,” she says drawing out the “o” sound in so. Her hand trails up the inside of my thigh and she touches the front of my pants quickly then pulls away with a wicked smile.
