A soft ball between the eyes

“You gave me a what?”  My immediate reaction was caught before it left my mouth.  I could feel the corners of my mouth tighten from the smile that had frozen on my face.  I was looking at the card on my lap, trying to force my in-congruent smile to stay in place while I considered the gift Sara had given me:  A softball registration with the Coogers. 

I still hadn’t looked up at her, and I flipped the card over searching for a Comedy Inc Copyright sign, desperate for a reprieve from the joyous ‘thank you’ that she was waiting for.  I closed my eyes and tried to fain a tear to bide some more time while I found the perfect response.  None came.

It was time.  I folded the card and placed it back into its envelope all while I held my gaze at my lap.  I placed the card on the table, looked up at her and said, “this has got to top the list for least expected gift, Sara.  And as it has taken me by surprise I need to put some thought into the whole shock of what it means.”  She looked hurt, which was sadder than normal because the outrageous smile she had on her face as she had handed me the card was still there – just melting slightly.

“Oh Sara, I think it’s a great present, I’m just shocked.  Softball!  I don’t think you’ve even seen me play bowls!  The whole thing could take on a different meaning if perhaps you have joined too! Have you? Because then it means we get to shop for matching outfits! Perhaps there’s drinks after and before the game?  That would be hysterical…, but I’m looking at you and realizing that these were not the reasons you gave me this gift, so I’ll shut my mouth, say ‘thank you’ and look forward to the start of the season.”

She looked at me while I winced through extracting my foot from my mouth – actually pushing it further in, regaining her composure better than I was, and said simply, “you’re going to love this Jilly,” and moved away from the table we were at to pour herself a very large drink no doubt. 

I took the envelope and put it in the pocket of my jeans for safe keeping and moved to the outside veranda to finish my bourbon.  I was slightly flushed now, but not as embarrassed as I had felt inside raving on about Sara’s present.  I waited for the night air to chill me enough to move inside again and find Sara.

Sara was laughing with some friends on the corner lounge, and I was relieved.  She hadn’t been mulling over my pathetic reaction, she had gotten on with the party.  So typical Sara, which is what I admired about her – one of the things; she was intent on having a good time no matter where she was or what was happening.  I swear if she was stranded on a desert island, she’d be weaving baskets and making coconut cream pie before the ship had sunk in the horizon.

Remembering this about her made me consider the gift in the light of which it had been given:  She had put a lot of thought into it, obviously – a six month stint in those unforgiving tights and being active was not something anyone would have given to me lightly.  We had gone to the odd game on Saturdays when the big leagues came to town, but I didn’t even remember cheering for anyone – I wondered if I had even watched the game?  Sara must have.  I bet I’d made a passing comment that that beautiful woman had caught and placed in the filing cabinet memory of hers to index later under “weird birthday presents for Jilly”.  God love her.  She really was a thoughtful friend, and I was a rude, ungrateful friend.  I had better tell her that some day!

I took my usual liberties and squeezed between Jake and Sara so I could hug her tight and say, “thank you”, without too much more fuss.  The deep and meaningful conversation could wait till everyone had left and Sara and I were alone in the post party chaos.  She squeezed me back and repeated her omen, “you really will love this, Jilly! And you were right on the money when you asked if I was joining too.  Would I seriously send you off to the Coogers alone?”  She wasn’t waiting for an answer and had turned to Susan on her left side to finish a sentence I had interrupted.  This time I didn’t need to push a tear up from the depths of selfishness where I keep them, I felt my eyes brim and grabbed my drink off the table to gulp before anyone had noticed that traitorous shine down both my cheeks.

I shoved myself up again, excusing myself past Jake with a bit more sedation than when I sat down and moved myself to the kitchen: the haven in any party.  I had had my fill of alcohol for the evening, no point drinking further or it could get ugly and/or silly.  I made a cup of tea, the remedy for any churning mind.  People came and went as I boiled the kettle, wishing me well, kissing me and telling me they loved my house and asking for refills for the dwindling snack supply. 

But I was already stepping up to the plate with a bat in my hand, facing off to the poor woman who had to throw a ball in my direction…  I was going to swing that club with force and ability.  I was going to hit homers at least every second swing.  I was going to be cheered and congratulated after every game for having saved them at the last yet again!  What a clever gift she had given me.  It had to be the best one I had received.  She really knew me well Sara!

Of course, I had given her some inkling when we’d gone to watch all those games with her.

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