Hope's Last Chance

by Jennifer Foor

  We have a child, a life, a mortgage, but most importantly a commitment. When we married everyone assumed I’d be the one who had regrets, yet they were wrong. When I looked into my husband’s eyes I knew he was the one for me. There has never been a doubt in my mind, not until this very moment, when I’m having to question his faithfulness.

  I may be young, but I’m not stupid. The two women he showed up with expected to spend the night with my husband, and I feared finding out what he must have said or done to make them think that.

  As time slips away from me, my imagination goes into overdrive. I’m consumed with disgraceful thoughts that cripple me from being able to settle myself. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but when I hear him at the door his voice is constant and collected. “Hope.” The doorknob jingles. “Could you please let me in?”

  I pretend I can’t hear him, though I can feel the pressure of him being just inches away leaning on the same door my back is against.

  “I’m not talking to you through this door. Don’t force me to break it down.”

  He tries the lock again before his temper takes control. The loud bang of his fist lets me know he’s serious. Need be, he’ll break down the door in order to get to me.

  My sobbing is causing my eyes to be on the brink of temporary blindness, and my heart is pounding so violently that I’m afraid I may pass out. “Please stop this, Chance. Go sleep it off on the couch. I can’t look at you without seeing those sluts with their grabby hands all over you. What did you do with them? Did they promise to fuck your frustrations away? Is that it? I’m not good enough to come home to?”

  “I didn’t fuck those chicks, Hope. I met them as I was rushing out when the game ended. I asked them to get me away from the stadium before the crowds got outside.”

  I’m turned toward the door, prepared to argue with his easy explanation. “You expect me to assume you’re telling the truth?”

  He’s chuckling, as if my words amuse him. “This is stupid. I’m not arguing with you about something I didn’t do.”

  “Where did you go after that? You’re shit faced. You obviously let them take you somewhere.”

  The door handle is once again challenged. “Are you going to open this door or not?”

  “I already told you I’m not, so go away.”

  “You’re making this situation way worse than it has to be.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve done that all on your own. I’m just trying to hold it together. Your actions have consequences, and right now I don’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.”

  “This is fucking bullshit. I should have stayed out. At least they didn’t give me shit. They wanted to comfort me, both of them, is that what you want to hear?”

  I hurry into the master bathroom and shut the door, hoping the space will keep me from hearing him ramble things I never want to hear.

  It’s early morning when I hear the sound of someone opening the bathroom door. I’ve spent the last few hours half asleep in the unfilled bathtub. The shower radio is playing music at a low decibel from across the room. I’d turned it on to drown out my husband in order to be able to compose myself, only to fall victim to my own exhaustion.

  Chance is standing over the tub looking down into my eyes. He’s tired, distraught, and appears to have aged overnight. Stress is taking a toll on him, and I fear it’s way worse than I imagined. “Did you sleep in here?” He asks.

  “Maybe.”

  He extends his hand for me to take, so that he may help me out. At first I refuse the offer, shaking my head and peering in another direction. He’s wearing a pair of jeans without a t-shirt and the sight of his bare chest distracts my unending anger toward him. “I’m fine.”

  “Hope, quit being stubborn.”

  I roll my eyes but allow him the task. As soon as I’m standing in front of him, I feel weak. I want more than anything to be the supportive wife he desperately needs, but I’m devastated, and it’s not going to go away with a simple smile. “How did you get in here?”

  “I put all the keys on the top of the doorframes when the house was built. It took me a while to remember it though. I had too much to drink last night. I woke up face down in our bed.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “You’re hiding from me.” He scratches his thick head of hair. “Why? What did I do? I only vaguely remember details.”

  I shake my head. He can’t play stupid with me. “Don’t act as if you can’t remember everything, Chance.”

  “The last thing I remember is catching a ride with two chicks who offered to get me out of the parking lot before the media could tackle me with their bullshit questions I didn’t want to answer. My cell phone ended up dying, so I couldn’t reach you until I charged it, but my charger was still in my bag in my locker. I blew out of there so fucking fast I left my shit behind. What time did I get home?”

  “Hours after the game. Enough time to cheat on me and ruin our marriage,” I blatantly offer.

  “What?” He shakes his head. “No. Bullshit.”

  “You were drunk. You’re always drunk, Chance. I’m tired of pretending it will get better. It’s gotten worse, and now I don’t know if I can even be near you without having doubts about our relationship. You’ve changed. You’re absent even when you’re home. Faith doesn’t need to be around you when you’re intoxicated, and frankly I don’t want to be either.”

  “Hope, you don’t understand. I can’t get my head out of my ass. My stats are plummeting. I can’t catch a break. My job is on the line. I’m stressed out.”

  I wave my hands in the air. “I don’t care about the game. Don’t you get that? I’m sick of it. Baseball is tearing our family apart and you’re too selfish to even see it.” I’m darting into the bedroom so I can change and go pick up our daughter. Halfway into pulling on a pair of pants I feel his presence behind me, though I refuse to look.

  “The game you hate so much pays the bills. It puts food on the table.”

  I fasten my button before spinning around to respond. “I’d rather starve than to depend on a lifestyle that destroys everything we ever stood for.”

  Without regard for what he might say or do, I grab a change of clothes and rush out of the room.

  He follows behind. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to be with our daughter.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No!” I’m adamant. “You won’t. I need to be away from you, from this.” My hands wave around between us. “I can’t live like this, Chance. Something has to change, and if it’s not going to be you than I have to be the one to make the hard choices.”

  “What does that mean?” He questions while following me out to my vehicle.

  I’m inside the driver’s seat when he props the door open to get my answer.

  “It means I need time to think. You’ve become an alcoholic. You’re priorities are a fucking mess, and I’m not about to allow our little girl to be a part of your demise. I’m going to stay with Dad and Buffy for a few days. Maybe you’ll have time to think about what’s important in your life.”

  “A few days? I’ll be back on the road by then. You can’t keep Faith from me. I’m coming with you. I’m not going to let your anger ruin my time home. We need to talk. I have things I want to tell you.”

  As soon as he starts to head to the passenger side I throw the car into reverse and speed down the driveway. He chases me nearly half a block before stopping and bending over to catch his breath. In that amount of time I’m weeping, all my hopes and dreams suddenly crashing against a brick wall that feels indestructible.

  Chapter 6

  I let my wife get down the road before deciding what needs to be done. I’m strapped with time and can’t afford for Hope to hear the news from another source, like the radio. It’s important I get all the facts and do my best to make other arrangements if I’m left without a job.

  Since Hope and I have the s
ame model of phone, I run in the house and grab her charger. I change my clothes and brush my teeth before rushing back out the door to chase her down.

  My phone powers on and in comes a ton of messages from family and friends. I ignore them and call my coach. I need answers, and prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to earn me any brownie points with saving my ass.

  Hope is right. My priorities aren’t in order¸ and until I get my life on track, I can forget about reconciliation.

  My coach, Bud, answers on the third ring. He’s short from the beginning, probably because I never showed up for him to ream me a new ass after the game. “Do you have any idea how many hoops I’ve had to jump through to keep your ass employed?”

  I sigh heavily while continuing to drive. The speaker to my radio is amplifying his voice, making me wince each time words come from his mouth.

  “Bud, there’s not an explanation for why I had to jet yesterday. I was pissed off and wanted to avoid the media.”

  “Chance, it’s not just about yesterday, son. You’ve been out of control this entire season. I’ve done my best to keep you in the lineup, even going as far as putting you as the designator hitter, but I’m sorry to say I’ve run out of options.”

  “What does that mean exactly? Am I fired? What happens to my contract? Will I be given severance?”

  “Son, I don’t know about the money situation. You’ll have to talk to the human resources department for the organization, but I’m afraid you’ll no longer be on the roster for the Orioles, at least not for the rest of this season.”

  “I figured as much.” I’m silent, rendered speechless even though I knew it was coming.

  “The minors aren’t the end, Chance. A lot of players have come back from slumps, some even setting new records. I’m sorry to see you go, because I know you’re a hell of a ball player, but this is business and the owners have a lot of money invested to wager it on a player who isn’t able to produce. Take advantage of the minor league. You’ll be able to focus on your skills instead of team management. My advice is to get out there and give it your best. I can’t help you figure out the issue, but I hope you do. You have potential. Don’t ever doubt it, and most certainly don’t be a stranger. You know we’re all going to miss you in the dugout. If you play your cards right you’ll be back with us by next season.”

  “Do you know where they’re sending me?”

  “No. I’ve requested that they keep you within our system, but it depends on the rosters of each team and where you’re needed the most.”

  This crushes my pride. I’m destroyed. I’ve been pushed aside before in a life that seems so foreign now. Hope helped me back from the darkness, but now even she’s giving up on me.

  “Who will be taking my spot?”

  “Alvarez for tomorrow’s game. I’m not sure going forward. The orders came from upper management. I wasn’t told anymore information.”

  “Thanks for the head’s up.”

  “You need to come into the office and go over some legal matters. They’ll fill you in on the money aspect and changes you’ll need to make to your current contract, as well as future placement.”

  “I’ll be in today, later on. I’m on my way to pick up my daughter right now, so it might be a few hours.”

  “I’ll let them know to expect you today. Good luck, son.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  After we hang up there’s a knot in my stomach that makes everything I drank the day before come back to the surface of my throat. I’m ill just imagining the fact that, not only do I have to explain my actions from the previous night, but also somehow break the news to Hope that we’re going to have to move to either Rochester New York or Norfolk Virginia. The shit is about to hit the fan, so I know hunting her down is the only option I have left. I need to look into her eyes when I break her heart.

  Hope has set down roots here in Maryland. She’s made friends, and so has our daughter. Faith plays with the neighborhood children at the park. She’s spent almost her entire life in the home we live in now. Uprooting her isn’t going to be easy, especially if my wife has any say in it. If I’m sure about one thing, it’s that my wife hates change. She’s pretty forthcoming when it comes to solidity. This will definitely send her over the edge, if I haven’t done a bang up job of that already.

  There are a million things running through my mind as I speed down the interstate. I’m not aware of how fast I was going until I see the police lights in the rear view mirror. My fists slam on the steering wheel as I pull over and await the officer’s approach.

  My license and registration, as well as the insurance card are in my hand waiting for him. I push the button and watch the window lower in order to be able to communicate with him. He’s speaking as he looks at my credentials. “Are you aware of the speed limit on this here road, Mr., uh, Chance Avery.” He’s quiet as he waits for my response.

  “Yes, sir. I know it’s fifty five. I’m sorry. My wife and I had an argument and she took off to her parents. I’m just trying to track her down in order to apologize.” I realize I’m giving more information than he wanted, but I find it’s necessary to give a reason for my speeding.

  “Chance Avery. That’s right. You’re the baseball player, right? I just heard on ESPN radio that you’re being sent down to the minors. You really can’t catch a break today can you?”

  I make a gesture with my hands to signal I’m out of ideas on how to improve things. “It seems that way.”

  He hands me back the materials I provided him with. “You’re obviously having a shitty day. I’ve followed your baseball career so far. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure you’ll be back in no time.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that, officer.”

  “Slow down, Mr. Avery. You can’t fix your problems if you’re dead.”

  He’s right, but sometimes I think being dead would be better than facing all my failures and bettering my life. It would be much less work.

  By the time I pull up behind Hope’s vehicle, I’m in shock. I’ve screwed up royally and my fear of losing her is causing me to hyperventilate. Bile continues rising to my throat as I make my way to the front door, and I have to take a second to conjure up the nerve to actually face my family after I know she’s probably told them I screwed around on her, even when I haven’t.

  I don’t blame Hope if she did. She’s close to my sister, and in a lot of ways she knows Buffy took care of me when our mother died. She’s always been there for me, so naturally Hope would want Buffy to take her side instead of mine. Together they’ll join forces in order to provoke a change in me. It’s time I stopped fighting them. Obviously I’m in a bad place.

  With my hand on the doorknob, I take a few deep breaths and prepare to face them, and my little girl that I know will finally put a smile on my sullen face.

  Chapter 7

  My father’s home is big enough that I won’t be in the way if I need to camp out there for a few days. My drive took longer than expected because I needed to stop and get gas. As soon as I arrive with a glowing face full of tears, Buffy escorts me inside and pulls me into a much needed hug. She gets it. If anyone does it’s her. She knows her brother better than anyone in this world. She knows he’s battled with demons which lead him down a road of alcoholism. “Tell me what happened?”

  “It’s the drinking. The baseball career. It’s everything. I don’t think I can take it anymore. Last night was the final straw. He’s become someone I don’t recognize. He left the stadium with two bimbos instead of waiting for me. The three of them showed up at our house hours later completely trashed. They had their hands all over him. It’s too much to talk about. I can’t.” It’s enough of the story to let Buffy know why I’m a wreck.

  She’s shaking her head. “What has gotten into him? I don’t get it. He’s worked so hard for this and now he’s throwing it all away. He played like shit again last night. Your father and I had to turn it off before the seven inning. I can’t imagine w
hat it was like for you to watch, and then afterwards. You know chance doesn’t do well with failure. I can’t speak for him hanging out with other women, but the brother I know wouldn’t ruin his marriage by hooking up with random fans. He’s in a bad place, that’s for sure.” She takes me into her arms. “Come here. I think you need this.” Her embrace causes me to tear up. I’m about to lose it, and she’s willing to listen to every single account of my experience.

  Before I'm able to get into more detail about the ordeal, I hear a sound that brightens my mood. Faith is running in my direction. She's wearing a new bright yellow dress that I can only assume Buffy has picked and purchased for her. Every time she visits they have gifts to spoil her. Her chestnut brown ringlets of curls are pulled into pigtails and as she manages to run in my direction they bounce around. When she's close enough, her bright blue eyes shine against the ray of sunlight coming in from an adjacent window. Her smile is exactly the kind of therapy I need to be able to take a step back from my current troubles and appreciate the valuable treasures I find with being a mother.

  "Hey, sweet pea. Mommy missed you so much." My throat burns as I muster up the words. It’s difficult looking at her and not seeing my husband. I know she’s about to ask where he is. I’ve spent the last several days preparing her for his homecoming. She knew she was going to stay with her grandparents while I picked up her father and brought him home. We’d colored a picture for him and hung it on the refrigerator so he would see it.

  I’m not going to have the opportunity to make excuses, because a familiar voice coming from the opening front door tells me I haven’t done a good job getting space from him.

  Faith’s eyes light up as she sees her father crouch down and address her. “There’s my sunshine. Come here and give Daddy a hug.”

  I feel my arms being freed as she darts for him as fast as her little legs are able to carry. As angry as I am, nothing compares to seeing them in such a loving embrace. No matter what my husband has done to me and our marriage, he’d never love Faith any less. For a second I wonder if she’s enough to keep us together. Am I able to forgive him for his indiscretions if he’s lying to me? Can we get past something like this because most major league baseball players are unable to keep their dick in their pants? I’ve heard the stories. I can count a few marriages that have failed from teammates he’s involved himself with. Should I turn a blind eye because I’m too afraid to lose the life we’re building together?