I parked beyond the outfield fence where you couldn’t see me.
I should have walked closer.
I watched Ben hit a double in one. I watched him strike out twice in another and throw his helmet in the dugout. He gets that temper from you.
I should have walked closer.
I didn’t know how.
I’m sorry.
Aaron stopped reading.
Claire nodded through tears.
He stared across the empty field.
“He was here?”
Claire nodded through tears.
Aaron laughed once.
Then he cried harder.
“Three games.”
Aaron looked down at the glove.
Noah sat beside him.
Aaron looked at him.
“All those years, I thought he chose everybody else over us.”
Noah said, “Maybe he didn’t know how to come back.”
Aaron looked down at the glove.
“That’s not the same as trying.”
“No.”
The third Saturday belonged to Noah.
That surprised him.
Noah continued.
“But I think maybe this was him admitting it.”
Aaron nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
The third Saturday belonged to Noah.
Mr. Vance’s house felt strange without him.
The note said:
My house. Porch chair.
That was all.
Mr. Vance’s house felt strange without him.
Noah sat in the faded wooden chair.
Nothing happened.
He leaned forward and felt along the frame.
He looked at me.
“This is awkward.”
“Check underneath.”
He leaned forward and felt along the frame.
His fingers touched tape.
A small black notebook was fixed beneath the seat.
Almost every page had a date.
Noah opened it.
Almost every page had a date.
Saturdays.
