Panic starts to rise within me.
I can’t let this be the reason I earn my third and final strike. And I won’t let reminders of my past keep me from moving on.
So with more confidence than I actually feel, I say, “I can do it. I can go to a game with Anna. It’s, of course, a part of my job. So it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He doesn’t seem convinced as he says, “I was going to say that if it’s too much for you to come to a game, I would never force you. Wouldn’t use it against you as a way to fire you. I promise.”
The kindness in his eyes takes me by surprise. I keep a hand on the counter to remind myself to stay upright.
My immediate reaction to his offer is to take the out. Use this strike-free zone to avoid willingly walking back into that world at all costs.
But I don’t want to hide anymore. Don’t want to feel like I should be banished for actions that were not my own.
Besides, I’ve survived the worst of it.
The online trolls, the unflattering paparazzi pictures, the whispers behind my back from those I thought were my friends.
And all while I was a naïve twenty-year-old girl figuring out how to be a woman in this confusing and at times cruel world.
I am no longer Izzy, the girl who had treacherous blond highlights to match the hair of the girlfriends of my ex’s teammates. I no longer go by a nickname that leans into the whitewashing of my identity, even though when I picked it, I had no idea that was what I was doing.
I am now Isa. Someone who stands in her power. Even if it’s in the safety of my bedroom most of the time.
I have learned, through many wine nights with my mother and Bethzaida, along with some professional help from my therapist when their advice seemed a bit on the unconventional side, that I am not the culmination of circumstances that surround me.
Even though I know these things to be true, I also know I’ve shielded myself from having certain experiences in my attempt to keep my head and heart safe from the level of destruction it once faced.
Relationships, close female friendships, and, silly as it may sound, even baseball.
Something that was so intertwined in my identity as a kid felt like it was taken away from me. All the games I used to attend as a preteen with my dad. Or the games we would watch at home while trying to convince Mami to make us a “stadium hotdog.” She refused each time, saying “eso no es comida.”That’s not food. Instead, she would make us a Dominican feast, as if toremind us of whatreal foodshould taste like. Each time, my father and I would snicker, as if our intention wasn’t to get her to cook for us.
I miss watching Anthony play and attending the games with Denise. After everything came crashing down, all those game nights at their home came to an abrupt end as well.
And I, not knowing how to navigate certain relationships while extracting the baseball aspect out of them, took the coward’s way out and ran.
I don’t know if it’s my new living environment, having a renewed vigor for the work I’m accomplishing on my own, or even the positive voice of an always chipper Anna in my head telling me I can do anything I put my mind to, but with a newfound determination, I take a deep breath as I address Mateo again. “I can do this. Actually, no. Iwantto do this. It’s been too long, and I think it’s time I get back to my baseball roots.” I smile. This time, it’s a genuine one.
He slowly nods as he takes a step back, taking with him the warmth I didn’t realize was enveloping me. “All right. I’ll have my assistant text you all the information you need. Hank will drive you guys there and will have all the passes you’ll need to access the family area. Anna’s been to more than a couple of games, so I’m sure you’ll need no better tour guide.” He smiles softly.
I swear, if you want to see the sweetest smile known to man, just mention his daughter to this guy. Doesn’t matter where or when. If Anna is near or mentioned, you are one of the lucky ones to get to experience the gentlest expressions that Mateo Martinez reserves for his daughter.
And with her in mind, I check the time and see that it’s time for me to head out and pick her up for the day. I grab my purse from the counter and make my way to the foyer. “I’m off to get Anna. We’ll be going to her ballet class after, and then we’ll probablygrab some food before we head home,” I say as I slip on my Converses.
“Hmm. Is she actually going to ballet, or will you be making another one of your, how did you put it? Oh right, ‘executive decisions’?” He looks at me pointedly as he leans back on the kitchen island, as if he’s in some kind of at-home photoshoot, while I hop around like a madwoman who doesn’t know how to sit while putting on her shoes.
“Hardy har har. That was one time,Martinez.”
“Getting real comfortable with my last name there,Morales.”
“Cause we’re a team, and don’t you forget it,” I singsong as he shakes his head.
I’m about to call for the elevator when he shouts, “Hey, Isa?”
“Yeah?” I spin to face him.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
My eyes widen as his sparkle with amusement.
