Walking toward the fence, I rested my arms on the top, my bat dangling from one hand.

“Ma’am!” I called out and waited until a frazzled woman with two babies in her arms came out to their porch. “Sorry to bother you. Do you think Roman could practice some swings with me? I can come over there.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Ramsey?” she asked as one of the babies tugged at her brown hair. “I don’t want him to be an imposition.”

“It’s no problem. I need to practice, and I heard he has quite the throwing arm.”

The woman sighed with a growing smile as she glanced at her son. “That would be great. Thank you. His dad should be home soon. He got called out to an emergency.”

“Cop?”

“Firefighter.”

“That’s some hard work.”

She nodded, then looked to her son. “All right, Roman. Please listen to Mr. Ramsey and be on your best behavior.”

The young boy dashed over to his mom, wrapping himself around her legs. She looked down at him with so much love I felt like I was imposing on the moment.

“All right, kid. Go grab your bat and a ball.”

***

I gave Aspen a pass on dating lessons the next day, since I knew her family was launching the harvest of the corn. The large trucks for transport had been seen all over town. I still didn’t know how they maneuvered the vehicles around the ninety-degree turn that gave most people difficulty in normal cars. But the drivers were skilled—that I knew for sure.

I messaged her that night, just to check in, though I wanted nothing more than to see her face. She had quickly become someone I looked forward to seeing.

Me: How did things go today?

Cricket: Good. Tiring. I’m ready for a bath.

Me: Can I come wash your back?

Cricket: <deadpan emoji>

Me: I met with Coach Rudicell at the high school today. The kids seemed excited.

Cricket: I bet they were. They look up to you.

There was a long pause in the texts where bubbles would pop up and then disappear. After ten minutes, I finally caved and sent one first.

Me: Can I see you tomorrow?

Cricket: It’s my turn to pick up sandwiches for lunch. You can take me, if you want.

Me: Sounds like a plan. Pick you up at 11?

Cricket: Sure. I’m heading to bed. Exhausted.

Me: Night, cricket.

Cricket: Are you ever going to tell me why you gave me that ridiculous nickname?

Me: Maybe one day, but that day isn’t today.

Cricket: G’night, Owen.

Now here I was the next morning as I laid in bed, scrolling through our messages one more time, the sun casting the entire bedroom in a yellowish hue. I’d always enjoyed talking with Aspen, even when it was something cruel she was spewing at me. It was the only time I ever saw her with a backbone.

Dinner Sunday night was eye-opening. Though she continued to chime in on conversations, Aspen was usually ignored. I was sure they weren’t doing it on purpose, but by the end of dinner, Aspen’s face was one of dejection. It wasn’t until she asked her father something directly that anyone paid her any mind.

I’d never experienced living in the shadows of anyone. Not only because I was an only child, but I’d always been a leader. My personality surpassed others’. I wasn’t being egotistical; it’s just how things were.

It also helped me understand why Aspen was so willing to take the role her family assigned her. She was paid so little attention that if things failed, there was a chance they’d barely notice until it was catastrophic.

Tossing my phone aside, I made my way toward the bathroom for a shower. Just as I stepped out of the warm spray, a knock sounded on the front door. Quickly, I wrapped a towel around my waist and went to answer. My mom stood on the other side with a cardboard box in her hands.

“Hey, Mom,” I said as she stood across from me, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I ushered her inside and gestured for her to take a seat while I changed into some clothes. I hoped she didn’t plan on staying long. I wanted to get as much time with Aspen as I could. I also had a stop to make on the way to Sunny Brook Farms.

In the five minutes it took me to change, Mom hadn’t moved an inch on the sofa. Her eyes were trained on the images hanging on the opposite wall. Seeing her with her shoulders hunched, I realized how small and frail she truly was. Nothing like the mother I remembered when I was little. Even though she’d been going through her own hell, she still did her best to fight my father off whenever he focused his anger on me.

“Would you like a drink? Water?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you though.”

I grabbed myself a glass, because I was purposely prolonging whatever brought my mom here. I surmised it was related to the ongoing drama with the house and my father.

“What’s in the box?” I asked as I took the empty seat next to her. My large frame sank into the cushion, nearly causing Mom to slide into me.

“Just a few things from the old house I thought you might want. Trophies, certificates, pictures.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I grabbed the box and flipped one pane open to explore inside. The first item I grabbed was my trophy from winning the National Championship when I was a senior in high school.

“I’ve been working with the kid next door, Roman. He’s pretty good.”

Mom nodded and gnawed on her bottom lip, but she didn’t reply.

“I know this isn’t the only reason you came by.”

“You’re right. You’ve always been very perceptive.”

“Well, might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with. That’s what you used to tell me.”

Mom pushed up from the couch and stood, then walked toward the sliding glass doors leading to the back deck and yard. Her back was to me as she said, “You know, you were born at twenty-eight weeks. The tiniest little thing. I was so worried about you, thinking I’d done something wrong. Every day was a challenge. Every day, I was worried when I visited you that they’d have something heartbreaking to tell me.