Cherry Blossom Baseball Page 12

  Michiko pulled down her uncle’s baseball cap, making sure it was on good and tight. It was a bit large for her, but she was thankful for that, with all the hair stuffed inside. As she walked past the coach, he gave her a hard slap on the back, and she fell forward toward the bench. Billy jumped up in surprise when he saw her stumble toward him.

  Michiko threw him a warning glance, and he sat back down with a thud.

  Bobby put the ball into his mitt, raised it to his chin, and gave her a hard look.

  She let his first ball go by. Too low, she thought and swung her bat to show him where she wanted the ball.

  The next ball barely missed her ear as it whizzed past her head, but she didn’t swing. What is he thinking? she wondered as the catcher tossed the ball back. If he makes me walk, it only looks bad for him. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Eddie. Coach Ward, standing beside him, was writing on his clipboard.

  On the next pitch, Michiko sent the ball soaring out into the field. She dashed to first base. There she took a deep breath and turned to see the play. So far, so good. Someone fumbled it in the field. She ran again. At second, Eddie gave her a thumbs-up.

  The next batter swung wildly at the first two balls. He hit it far enough for her to make it to third base.

  The catcher raised his facemask and laughed when the next batter was out at first, but he missed the ball on its return. As he watched it roll away, Michiko stole home. The boys on the bench all stood up in surprise.

  Mr. Ward wrote on his clipboard again.

  The second time Michiko got up to bat, she swung so hard, she had to catch herself from falling over. She fouled the next ball and her heart sank. She swung at the third in panic.

  ‘“Yer out,” the umpire called out.

  She heard the catcher snicker under his mask.

  Her grandfather’s voice came into her head as she walked to the field. Accomplishments remain with oneself. She knew they were all thinking that she was no good.

  Michiko spent the next couple of hours in centre field under the hot summer sun. She tipped her head back and forth but didn’t dare take off her hat to shake her hair free. Her feet, encased in her leather farm boots, felt like they were baking in an oven.

  The bat cracked. Michiko looked up and walked backward, keeping her eye on the tiny white blur as it got closer and closer. She was directly under it when the white ball seemed to disappear in the sun’s brightness. She squinted, opened her glove, and heard the ball drop. When she looked down, it was in her mitt.

  The kids on the bench roared in approval.

  Her hopes were high until the coach moved her off the field back on to the bench.

  Something cold hit her shoulder and she looked around. Eddie stood beside her with a large grin. “Catch this,” he said. “You need a cool down.” He threw another piece of ice at her. Michiko caught it and rubbed it across the back of her neck.

  Donald went up to bat again and hit the ball high. As Michiko shaded her eyes against the sun, she saw a blur flying toward her face, but before she could get out of the way, she felt the ball’s hard crushing blow as she slid to the ground.

  The first thing she saw when she tried to open her eye was Eddie’s furrowed brow. Coach Ward stood behind him. “You okay?”

  Michiko sat up, but the world swam. She put her hand to her face, clenching her teeth together. Her forehead and right cheek pounded, but she didn’t dare cry.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get knocked out,” Eddie said, taking her by the elbow to help her stand. He let her catch her breath and then led her to the parking lot.

  “What happened?” Mary asked, racing to their side when she saw them.

  Carolyn followed. “I told you she would get hurt.”

  Eddie opened the door of his father’s big black sedan. “I’ll take you home.”

  Michiko’s headache and the bright summer sun reduced her world to such a small space, she could hardly see to get in the car.

  “We’re supposed to be going for ice cream,” Carolyn whined. “Why can’t she just wait for Billy’s father to come back?”

  Mary shot her a look of disgust. “First we are going to take her home,” she said, “and then my father’s going to go to her house and take a look. You can stay here.”

  Eddie leaned in, removed Michiko’s hand from her red, swollen eye and gave her a handkerchief of cold ice. He was so close, she could smell his spearmint gum. “My dad’s a doctor,” he whispered. “Everything will be fine.”

  Not trusting herself to speak, Michiko could only nod, and even that brought pain. She slumped back against the seat, holding the handkerchief against her eye.

  Dr. Adams, a tall, plain-faced man with dark hair and the scent of aftershave, folded his stethoscope into his deep, dark, square-bottomed bag and said, “I’ve given her a full check-up. She’s in perfect health. No damage to the eye, but she will have a nasty bruise. A few days off school will allow for the swelling to go down.”

  Sam saw him to the door as Eiko administered another cold compress.

  Just as Michiko drifted off to sleep, she felt a rough hand at her chin. “I probably didn’t even make the team,” she mumbled to her father.

  “You’ll get on the team,” Sam responded, patting her head. “You got my arm. But you sure gonna have a shiner,” he added. “Good thing Sadie isn’t here. She’d laugh a lot at you.”

  Michiko felt the sting of her tears. If only she knew where Sadie was.

  “What happened to you?” the librarian asked as she stared at Michiko’s rainbow-coloured face when they returned their books on Saturday.

  “I got hit with a ball,” Michiko said, pulling the bill of her baseball cap lower.

  Annie pressed her small hands to the sides of her face and frowned. “Does it hurt a lot?”

  “Not too bad,” Michiko replied.

  “Baseball is stupid,” Annie said, crossing her arms and turning to the window.

  “Better get used to it,” Billy said, throwing his cap on to the table. “We’re going to play every single day of spring break.”

  Michiko waited a long time for Billy to turn up for their usual game of catch. The sharp odour of cow manure filled her nostrils as she biked up his laneway to see what was keeping him. She found him on the steps of the long front porch, which sagged like an old couch, with his head in his hands. His dirt-streaked cheeks made her think he’d been crying. She waited a few moments before she spoke. “Aren’t we going to practise?”

  “Nope,” he said, his head still in his hands. “Annie threw my baseball in the lake. She had to go to her room until my mom decides how to punish her.” He stood up and kicked the porch. “But that doesn’t bring my ball back.”

  Michiko sat in silence, studying the ground. She noticed a bottle cap and nudged it with her toe to see what it said. She reached down, picked it up, and put it in her pocket.

  “What are you going to use that for?” Billy asked, raising his head.

  “Hiro collects bottle caps,” she said. “I don’t think he has an Orange Crush.”

  Billy stood up. “Come on,” he said as they walked behind the cow barn to a large, red metal box. “My dad fixed up this old cooler because he was tired of walking to the house for a cold drink.” He pulled the handle on the front panel and removed a tin trough. “Help yourself,” he said. “We’ve got thousands.”

  “Thousands?” Michiko repeated in awe.

  Billy took the trough to the wooden box beside the machine. “See?” he said as he dumped the bottle caps on top of the already rusting pile. “It’s not always soda pop,” he explained. “My dad puts in whatever he feels like drinking.”

  Michiko picked out a bottle cap and gave it a toss in the air. Her eyes widened with an idea. She turned and scuffed out four lines in the dirt yard with the heel of her boot. “Single, double, triple, and home run,” she told Billy. “Go get your bat.”

  Billy grinned. “First we need a strike zone,” he said, pick
ing up a stick and dipping it in the scummy water around the cow trough. He marked a muddy square on the wall of the barn.

  It took them a few moments of practice to get the caps skimming through the air using a sidearm toss, until their game of bottle-cap baseball began, and Billy knew exactly who was going to have to pick them all up.

  Michiko rode through the dandelion-dotted orchard along the tiny path that led directly to shore. The bicycle squeaked as she pedalled through the fishy smell of the water’s edge. The surface of Lake Ontario was a blanket of fine wrinkles.

  She jumped off to walk the bicycle, along the narrow stretch of beach where the sand was too soft to manage, until she reached the parking lot beside the harbour. There she remounted and headed for the school.

  Billy rode up the sweep of gravel that led to the school, leaning forward like a dog on a hunt for a rabbit.

  “Where did you get the bike?” Michiko asked. His was much newer than hers.

  “My dad picked it up at an auction. It’s a reward for that A on my report card.”

  Billy ran his finger down the team list posted on the glass of the school’s front door. “I made the team,” he yelled and did a victory dance in front of the window.

  Michiko approached the list with caution. Striking out at a tryout was nothing to be proud of, but Eddie had told her not to give it another thought. She ran her finger down the list. There it was, her third name since leaving Vancouver. “So did I,” she said with a grin. “Or at least Mitch did,” and she did a couple of cartwheels across the grass, her long, dark pigtails smacking her in the face.

  They walked across the grass to the trees on the hill and lay on the grass with their legs crossed. “I can’t wait to see Carolyn’s face when she finds out you’re a ball player.”

  “You can’t tell her,” Michiko said, sitting up. “She’ll try to stop me from playing.”

  Billy grimaced. “You’re right,” he said. “She is such a troublemaker.”

  “Don’t say anything to anyone,” Michiko cautioned, “not even Annie.”

  “But Annie will know if you talk about going to the games.”

  “Just tell her I’m your coach.” Michiko rubbed the spot above her eye where the ball had hit her. “Tell her I only want to watch — because I got hit.”

  Billy nodded. Then he picked up his bike.

  Michiko paused to stuff her pigtails underneath her cap.

  “You better get rid of all that hair,” Billy said when she picked up her handlebars.

  Michiko put a hand to the back of her head. “I’ll have to think about that,” she said as she pushed off. In her house, cutting one’s hair above the ear was considered shocking and rebellious. She’d just have to tie it up really tight.

  “I’ll race you to the Esso station,” Billy said.

  SADIE

  The excitement of making the team turned Michiko’s legs into pumping pistons. She pedalled hard to beat Billy to the gas station, and she did. After a breather, she rode home, picked up the mail, and headed for Mr. Downey’s back door. “I’m back,” she called out to her mother, but got no answer. Hannah wasn’t in her playpen, and there was no sign of Hiro either. She placed Mr. Downey’s mail on the kitchen table beside a new Eaton’s catalogue. That’s funny, she thought. He must have taken it from the mailbox himself.

  Michiko peeked down the hallway but saw no one. Mrs. Downey’s toaster sat on the counter. She couldn’t resist pushing down the lever and peeking inside the silver box to see the wiggly wire elements turn ruby red. Then she closed the side door and walked to the clothesline beside the vegetable garden. But there was no sign of her mother there, either.

  Mrs. Palumbo stood in her shapeless print housedress with her hands on her hips, waiting for the watering can to fill. She looked up and scowled in Michiko’s direction, but Michiko could no longer contain herself. She had to tell someone her news. She ran up to Mrs. Palumbo, grabbed her hands, and swung them back and forth.

  “Mrs. Palumbo,” she said, “I made the team. Isn’t that great? I made the team.”

  The woman furrowed her brow, making the knot of her back hairnet rise above the crevice on her forehead.

  Michiko dropped the woman’s hands and took the stance of holding a bat in front of the puzzled old lady. “Baseball, Mrs. Palumbo.” She swung her bat and put her hand to her forehead as she watched her imaginary ball soar into the stands. “I made the baseball team.”

  Mrs. Palumbo’s watery, pale blue eyes lit up in comprehension. “Si,” she said, “base-a-ball.” Then she took a stance herself and pretended to whack a ball with a bat. She pointed her finger and traced her imaginary ball across the sky. “Home-a-run.”

  “That’s right,” Michiko said as she tapped her chest. “I’m going to hit a lot of home runs.” Michiko could picture a small shelf of trophies like her Uncle Kaz’s.

  To her surprise, Mrs. Palumbo’s whole face transformed. She smiled so wide, the straight lines at the corners of her mouth disappeared. She raised her gnarled hands and patted her chest. “Mi filio,” she said, “Antonio, base-a-ball.” Then, as if she suddenly remembered something sad, her smile dropped and she turned to haul the can into the garden.

  Michiko went back to retrieve her bike. She thought about the Eaton’s catalogue. Maybe she could make enough money picking strawberries to buy a pair of running shoes. She pushed her bike toward the shed just as her mother’s angry voice rose from the open front window.

  “Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away. Isn’t that what you told me yourself?”

  Michiko froze.

  “I am not talking about it anymore,” a voice Michiko could barely hear replied. “Besides, it wasn’t as if I was really married.”

  “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Eiko screeched so loud that Michiko gripped her handlebars.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” the soft voice said. “There was no formal consent, no go-between conference, gifts, or dowry accepted.”

  “So now you decide to be Japanese. All your life you fight your heritage, and now you’ve decided to embrace it completely. What have you become, a ronin? Wandering the countryside without your shogun master? You were married by a minister in a church. Are you telling me that doesn’t count!”

  It was Aunt Sadie! But it didn’t sound as if her mother was too happy about it. Michiko laid her bike on the grass and tiptoed to the kitchen door. Sadie’s purse, a green snakeskin box that had a gold triangle-shaped clasp, sat on the table.

  “Mom,” Michiko called out. “Guess what! I made the team!” She let the screen door slam as she went inside, something she wasn’t supposed to do. “Hey, Hiro,” she called out. “Are you going to watch me play?”

  When her mother entered the kitchen, Michiko pretended not to notice her flushed face.

  “Don’t be so noisy,” she said. “Hiro and Hannah are with your father.” Her mother filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “Go and find them. Tell your father we’ll have tea.”

  “Is that Michiko?” the voice in the living room said.

  Michiko looked at her mother and raised her eyebrows.

  Eiko rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes,” she said. “It is your Aunt Sadie, unexpected, unannounced, and unprepared.”

  Sadie gave Michiko a hug and then held her at arms’ length as if she needed to see what was different. But instead of warmth, Michiko got a feeling of boniness. Aunt Sadie had always been fashionably slim, but she’d never felt like a skeleton before. This was definitely not the lady who wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without lipstick. She had small lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. Not only was her lipstick missing, it was as if she had given up her flowery scent altogether.

  Eiko forced her face into a smile. “A letter came from Kaz,” she said. “Edna sent it.”

  Sadie said nothing. She paid a great deal of attention to her hands, adjusting her gold wedding band. Then she turned to look out the window and gave a tinny l
augh, the kind that sounded like there were tears behind it. “That’s nice,” she said.

  Eiko removed the letter from the pocket of her apron and slid it across the table.

  Sadie turned it face down.

  That evening, Michiko watched her aunt sweep Hiro off his feet to say goodnight. He squirmed in her arms until she lowered him to the floor. Then she leaned over the crib to kiss Hannah. Sadie took a deep breath. “How I miss that baby smell,” she said with a deep sigh.

  After her homework, Michiko tiptoed into the kitchen with their spare blanket and pillow. Sadie was to sleep on the couch in their living room. She had offered to give up her bed, but her mother shook her head. Michiko watched her aunt pull off her earrings and place them on her handkerchief beside Kaz’s letter.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?” Michiko asked.

  “I don’t have to,” Sadie said. “I know what it says.” She rose from her chair and went to the stove. She held the envelope to the burner, and then she carried it to the sink to watch the flames consume it.

  Michiko watched in horrified silence.

  Sadie turned to her and gave her a tired smile. “Good night,” she whispered.

  The next morning, the distant murmur of the radio punctuated by her father’s cheers told her he was celebrating the highlights of yesterday’s ball game. Her aunt’s voice came from her mother’s bedroom across the hall as she sang to Hannah. The banging coming from the other side of her wall meant Hiro was playing with his cat.

  When Michiko came into the kitchen, Sadie was sitting at the kitchen table in her mother’s wine-coloured dressing robe with Hannah on her lap. Michiko studied her aunt’s face in the bright daylight. She had dark circles under her eyes and did not bubble over with her usual fun. Her feet were bare.

  Michiko remembered the time her aunt had stopped by their house wearing a red satin dress and glittering necklace. Sadie had let Michiko try on her black patent high heels, and Michiko couldn’t stop turning them one way and another to admire their shine.