Wild Pitch (7 page)

“Oh, Mom,” he said, stuck for anything more to say.

“Do you know his name?” she demanded. “Such terrible behavior should be reported to the police, and I’ve got a mind to do
it.”

“Forget it, Mom,” he said calmly. “I think he was just trying to scare me. He wouldn’t dare run me down.”

She looked at him worriedly. “Suppose he does it again?”

He took hold of her hands. They felt cold and damp. “Take it easy, Mom. Okay? Don’t worry. Once I see Monahan and explain
things to her everything will be straightened out. I’m sure it will.”

“But you’ve just been to the hospital, and you didn’t go to see her,” his mother said, looking him straight in the eye.

He went to the table and sat down, and remembered back a few years ago when she was in the hospital.

“Mom, I remember that Dad used to visit you sometimes in the mornings when you had your operation. Do you suppose I’d be able
to see Monahan sometime in the morning, too?”

The concern slowly left her eyes. “It won’t hurt to try.”

He smiled, as if he’d just discovered an ace up his sleeve. “I’ll go tomorrow morning,” he said, enthusiastic. “Like you say,
it won’t hurt to try.”

After breakfast the next morning he got to thinking about his proposed visit to Phyllis Monahan and
decided against taking flowers to her. He was fed up picking flowers and then not being able to see her for one crazy reason
or another. He would rather not take anything, just in case he wouldn’t be able to see her again this time. But he felt that
a gift, no matter how simple, would be good.

“I’m going to try to visit Phyllis Monahan in the hospital this morning, Rox,” he said to his sister. “I hate to carry something
in, but I feel I should. What do you think?”

They were in the kitchen, and she was putting fingernail polish on her nails.

“I think you should, too.”

“Got any suggestions? And don’t mention flowers. I’ve been batting zero with them.”

She laughed. “Take her a box of chocolates. I know where you can get the best for less.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he said. “Okay. That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

It was ten minutes of eleven when he rode his bike to his parents’ gift shop and picked up a box of chocolates. His mother,
who was working this morning, was easily convinced that the candy was for a good cause and therefore wouldn’t charge him for
it. (He knew she wouldn’t have charged him even if he’d wanted it for himself, as long as he didn’t make a habit of it.)

She wrapped it up for him, and he carried it to the hospital, arriving there at about ten after eleven.

The receptionist greeted him with a smile, and when he politely told her that he would like to see Miss Phyllis Monahan she
politely informed him that he couldn’t, because visiting hours were from two to four in the afternoons and seven to nine in
the evenings.

His mouth sagged and he blinked a couple of times while he searched for words that might change her mind.

He looked down at the nicely wrapped box of chocolates in his hand and felt a tightening in his belly. What could he say to
this sweet old lady anyway that could make her break that rule for just this one time? That he knew it was broken before?
And that breaking it wasn’t such a terrible infraction as she might want people to think?

He heard a soft voice and looked up to see the telephone operator leaning over to speak to the receptionist. A smile was on
the telephone operator’s face. Suddenly there was one on the receptionist’s, too.

Then the telephone operator moved back and the receptionist focused her attention on Eddie. Her blue eyes twinkled behind
her glasses.

“It’s all right. You may go. She’s in room three-fifteen.”

“Thank you,” said Eddie.

He flashed her a smile, then went through the open door and down the white-walled corridor that seemed a half a mile long.
He was conscious of his heels clicking on the hard, vinyl floor and tried not to put all his weight on his heels.

He went around the corner, found the elevator, and took it to the third floor. He saw arrows on a wall indicating the room
numbers, and turned down the corridor to his right. Phyllis Monahan’s room was the eighth one down on the left-hand side.

Her door was open. He paused briefly on the threshold and looked in. She lay in bed, with a bandage on her head. She was looking
up at something on the wall opposite her, and from the sound Eddie assumed it was a television program.

He stood there, wondering whether to knock on the door or walk in and announce himself. He was nervous and tense. How was
she going to react when she saw him?

Then he heard another voice—a woman’s—and the bands in his stomach grew tighter.

Monahan had a visitor. Who was it? Her mother?

Why hadn’t the receptionist said something about
her? Didn’t she know? Well, maybe she didn’t. It wasn’t her business to know every visitor that entered the hospital.

Eddie took a step to the side and saw her. She was an older woman who didn’t resemble Phyllis.

Suddenly their eyes met, and instant recognition flared in hers.

“Well!” she declared.

Eddie paled.

He saw Phyllis look away from the television set, glance momentarily at the woman, and shift her attention to him.

Her eyes widened.

“Eddie Rhodes?” she said. “Aren’t you Eddie Rhodes?”

“Yes,” he said.

He stepped into the room. It was warm and smelled
faintly of disinfectant.

“How you doing?” he asked nervously.

She looked at him curiously, her eyes dropping briefly to the box he was holding.

“Fine. But I never thought I’d see you here. What’ve you got there?”

He smiled. “A present.”

“A present for me? Or is it a flag of truce?”

“Maybe both,” he said tensely, and handed it to her.

“Thank you. Oh, wow.”

He forced a grin. “I was afraid you’d think I had hit you on purpose, and I didn’t. It was a wild pitch. An accident.”

She looked at the woman by the window.

“Mom, this is Eddie Rhodes,” she said. “My mother, Eddie.”

Eddie met the woman’s eyes. They were brown, wide, and cold.

“I know,” she replied stiffly before Eddie could speak. “I recognized him the minute he stepped into the room.”

Her voice chilled him, and Eddie felt like turning around and walking out. But an inner voice compelled him to stay—at least
for a little while longer.

“Hi, Mrs. Monahan,” he said quietly.

“You’re the one who almost ran into me with your bike,” Phyllis broke in. “You, and another kid.”

“Yes,” he said, then frowned, slightly piqued. “Look, you don’t think I did that on purpose, too, do you?”

She tightened her lips.

“I don’t know. But you seem to cause the most peculiar accidents and they all happen to me.”

He shook his head. “I know. But they
were
accidents. Especially hitting you on the head. I’m pretty wild at times. It’s not the first time I’ve thrown a pitch like
that.”

“Then you shouldn’t pitch!” Mrs. Monahan snapped angrily.

Both Eddie and Phyllis looked around at her. She had gotten off her chair, and was standing there; her eyes glittered.

“If you know you’re a wild pitcher, you shouldn’t be pitching. You should know better, and your coach
should know better,” she said hotly. “What if she hadn’t been wearing that helmet? That ball might’ve killed her. You’re lucky,
young man, that it wasn’t worse than it was, or I’d see to it that—”

“Mom, please,” Phyllis interrupted.

Eddie’s heart thumped like a machine. “I think I’ll leave,” he said, and started for the door.

“No, wait!” Phyllis called to him.

He paused and looked at her and saw her turn to her mother. “Mom, do you mind if … if we talked alone for a minute?” she asked
calmly.

Mrs. Monahan frowned.

“What can you talk about?”

“Please, Mom?”

Her mother glared at her, then at Eddie. “This is ridiculous,” she exclaimed, and stormed out of the room. He could hear her
hard heels click against the tiled floor as she went down the corridor.

Phyllis motioned to him. “Come closer so we won’t have to talk so loudly,” she said.

He stepped up closer to the bed, feeling a sense of guilt because she had asked her mother to leave the room. He was nervous,
and looked around at the flock of get-well cards scotch-taped to the wall behind her, and a stack of letters on the table
beside her.

“You can’t blame my mother,” Phyllis said softly. “Both she and my dad were very worried about me. I was in a coma for a whole
day, you know.”

“All I know is that you were in intensive care for a couple of days.”

She searched his eyes. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve been wanting to see you, but there was always someone here. That’s why I came this morning.”

“You mean it? You’ve been trying to see me?”

He nodded. “Would I lie about that?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t. I’m no jerk. And I mean it when I say I didn’t hit you on purpose.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked, opening her eyes again. “Will you crank up this end of the bed? There’s a crank there
on the end.”

“Sure.”

He found the crank, wound it a few times, and got her up to where she sat comfortably.

“Thanks,” she said. She looked at the box. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“What a beautiful wrapping job!”

“My mother did it.”

“I hate to ruin it. But—do you mind?”

“No. I’d like you to. If you don’t like what’s in it, I’ll take it home and eat it myself.”

“Candy!” she said, tearing off the wrapper. “Chocolates?”

“Right. Worst thing for teeth you can eat.”

“Hmmmm!” she smiled, delighted.

Once she had the outside wrapper off she tore off the cellophane wrapper, then opened the box. “Oh, wow!” she cried. “Yummyyummyyummy!
Can I sample one now?”

“They’re yours. Sample them all if you want to. No. Better not. Save some for your mother.”

She smiled at him, then picked out a chocolate-coated cherry and bit off half of it.

Eddie watched her, feeling good that he had brought her a gift she appreciated. Thank you, Roxie.

“What about your head?” he asked, looking at the bandage she had wrapped around it. “How soon can you play baseball again?
Did the doctor say?”

She looked at the other piece of the chocolate. “He said it might be a long time. It was quite a bang, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” He watched her plunk the piece into her mouth and start chewing it. “Did he say you would be able to play again
this year?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Why not?”

“I was afraid to.”

He frowned. “Because he might say you shouldn’t?”

She searched for another piece of candy, then suddenly held out the box to him.

“Boy, am I dumb. I guess I left my manners home. Here, take one.”

“No, thanks.” He was anxious to know more about her condition, how serious the injury was. “Are you afraid he might say you
shouldn’t?”

“I guess so.”

He went over to the wall and read a few of the cards. Some were serious, some humorous. One large card with a picture of a
sick dog holding a thermometer in its mouth was signed “Love, from Mingo.”

Eddie looked at Phyllis. “Mingo? Is that Chinese?” She laughed. “No! That’s his name. He’s my cousin.”

Eddie frowned. “A big kid? Dark hair? Kind of wild?”

“That could be him. You know him?”

“Know him? He’s been after me ever since I hit you. I thought he was going to run me down with his car the other day. You
sure he’s not a case for the guys in the white coats?”

She smiled. “He told me he was going to get you
one of these days, but I told him to lay off. He hasn’t bothered you any more, has he?”

“No. But I thought that’s because he hasn’t seen me on the streets. I saw him here in the lounge yesterday. Him and a girl.”

She frowned at him. “You were here yesterday?”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you come to see me? Did he scare you away?”

He chuckled wryly. “Well, when I saw him and the girl sitting there, I knew they were waiting for somebody to come back from
seeing you so they’d be able to go. I didn’t think I had a chance, so I left.”

“That was Sally, his girl friend. They didn’t tell me they saw you.”

“I figured that when you didn’t mention it earlier.”

She shook her head disgustedly. “Mingo acts as though he’s my older brother sometimes. He’s even forbidden me to see certain
movies after he’s seen them. My parents think that’s all right, but I think I’ve reached the age to make up my own mind about
such matters. How about you?”

Eddie shrugged. “Tip and I—you know Tip.”

“Yes. Your friend.”

“Right. He and I see a couple of movies a month. Those that kids our age can see. Action pictures mostly.”

“I love them, too,” she said.

She ate another chocolate, then closed the box and set it on the table.

“Those were delicious,” she said, beaming. “Did I say thanks? If not—thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Well, I’m really glad I came this morning.”

She tilted her head. “I am, too. I was afraid you’d be the type of guy I’d hate for the rest of my life.”

“I was afraid of that. That’s why I came.”

She looked deeply into his eyes.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“So am I.”

“You look older.”

“I know. That’s why my dad wanted me to be a first baseman.”

His forehead creased. “Was it his idea that you play baseball?”

She shook her head.

“No. It was mine. I’ve played ever since I could lift a bat. Dad was a baseball player, and I’m an only child, so as I grew
older we played together an awful lot. Lately, though, he hasn’t had much time. He’s got a different job.”

She shrugged, as if she didn’t care about pursuing the topic.