The pitcher ran to get the loose ball as Yuri rounded second. He came up throwing, but Yuri beat the tag. We were now up 2–0.
State complained that I wasn’t allowed to run over the catcher. They were right, of course, but I hadn’t made it obvious what I was doing; I’d reached for the bag. There was also a rule that a fielder couldn’t block the basepath. The umpire pulled in his colleagues, and they talked it over. They decided to let the call stand.
Bryan was up next. He, too, laid down a bunt. Yuri was held at third, but Bryan was able to safely reach first. Jim was now up. He hit one over the head of the first baseman. Because Bryan was running on contact, he was able to score from first. Jim had a stand-up double. We were now up 4–0, and that was how the inning ended when Brock struck out.
State did manage to score three times to make the final 4–3. They were gracious in defeat. Baseball is a funny game. Any given day, you can be beaten; it just wasn’t their day. With our extra pocket money, we celebrated by going to Monical’s for pizza. We invited the State players to join us, and some of them did. They were good guys, even if they did eat a lot of pizza.
◊◊◊ Monday April 11
I got my picnic table to paint; Wolf showed it to me before school. They’d painted the top and seats orange and the supports blue like I’d asked. My idea was to paint our bulldog logo in the center of the table. Stacy said she would pencil it in for me; it made it sort of like paint-by-numbers, which I could handle. When we were done, Wolf would have the shop class seal it to protect the design.
As I walked into the building, I found Pam leaning against the wall in the hall, holding her back. She looked about ready to pop. The doctor had said she would have our baby either this week or the next.
“You need me to rub your back?” I asked.
She looked up and nodded. Pam made happy moaning noises as I massaged her lower back.
“This baby better come soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“How’s our boy doing?”
“I think he’s trying to kick his way out,” she said. She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand to her side so I could feel him kicking.
“Whoa, he’ll probably be a soccer player.”
“Or a swimmer,” Pam said.
One of the reasons Pam and Lacy had moved into their condo was that it had a pool. Pam planned to have our child in the water at an early age. She loved to swim, and I was sure our son would share that love.
We’d also hashed out what we were going to name him. Pam had a friend who had died named Jacob, Jake for short. His nickname had been ‘Otter’ because of his love of water. I added Jeffrey as a middle name to honor my best friend, who had also died while swimming. We were torn as to whether we would call him JJ or Jake. Pam also suggested we call him Ott, short for Otter. She said otters were fast, clever, loveable, and sneaky. Her explanation put a smile on my face. Other suggestions were Coby or Jeb as a nickname for Jacob. I liked Jake, but Pam pointed out that Greg’s youngest was Nate. She was afraid they would get confused. I finally made the call: Coby.
Something we’d decided for sure was his last name would be Dawson and not hyphenated with Pam’s last name. I was willing to do it, but Pam decided he didn’t need two last names.
She and Peggy had finished preparing a bedroom for Little David and our son. We’d set up another bed in the kid’s playroom for when Pam spent the night. I’d also put together another crib in my apartment. I doubted they would let the boys spend the night with me, but was prepared if they did. Dad just shook his head at me. I don’t think he was telling me everything.
◊◊◊
Today was my day to host another lunch-buddy table. I’d agreed to do it once a week. The other hosts were Johan, Jan, Zoe, and Brit. I was happy to see that my table held a mix of people who I didn’t know very well and who didn’t hang out together. It was working out like we intended, in that people met each other and possibly found new friends.
Ms. Jaroslav, our guidance consoler, had given us techniques to facilitate as hosts. The goal was to get people talking to each other. The hard part was drawing out some of the shyer ones. Ms. Jaroslav planned to follow up with the participants and get feedback.
◊◊◊
After baseball practice, I was at the dojo getting the crap beat out of me by Coach Hope. I think he enjoyed teaching me to box. Actually, it was me learning to fight in cramped spaces where I couldn’t move. It forced me to stand toe-to-toe with Coach and punch. Cassidy had taught me to use my superior athletic skills to move in a way to avoid most blows. When I’d been forced to face off with the boxer in the tight confines of the airplane, it highlighted my need to be able to deal with close quarters. I wouldn’t always be able to dance out of danger, as Coach Hope called it.
