“Wow, is there an outdoor festival or concert or something going on?” she asks. “The streets are packed.”
“No,” I chuckle. “There is a Rockies game tonight.
“Oh, I don’t really follow basketball,” she shrugs.
My head whips around to looks at her. Did she really just say that the Colorado Rockies were a basketball team? I shake my head and laugh.
“Baseball,” I simply say.
“Same difference,” she says nonchalantly. “They are both played with balls.”
I now remember why I’ve never taken a woman to a ballgame. Unless they can truly appreciate the game, the most fun they have is during the seventh inning stretch when the crowd sings “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” I’m hoping that this brilliant attempt at a fun date, doesn’t completely crash and burn.
I find decent parking near Coors Field and we briskly follow the crowd. I thread my fingers with hers and lead her along the sidewalks, weaving around the people lingering on the path. It feels good to have her tucked into my side. If I have my way, it’s a place she’ll never leave.
It isn’t until I’m handing our tickets to the gate attendant that she puts it together.
“Do they have other events here or are we actually going to the game?” she asks, not exactly thrilled at her prospects for the evening. “You know I know nothing about sports, right?”
My smile widens. Tonight is going to be so much fun. This is her first baseball game and will be a night neither of us will forget. I don’t answer her, instead, I pull her toward our seats before she can change her mind about our evening.
I usually watch the game from my company’s box seats, but tonight, with Campbell in tow, I bought tickets along the third baseline. I want her to experience the game as a true fan would. Mingling with the crowd, the smell of the beer and hotdogs, taking part in the wave, she needs to be immersed in the action.
We find our seats and I immediately flag the guy selling beers.
“I know you’re not much of a drinker but baseball games and a cold one kind of go hand in hand,” I explain as I hand her the plastic bottle of beer. She nods and offers a tight smile, before taking a small, sampling of the ale. I know that is probably the most that she’ll drink of it, but it is still worth the eight bucks even if she just holds it all night.
Her unease at the situation is evident. Campbell likes having the upper hand. She like being prepared for any situation. Baseball is not her cup of tea, and there is no way that she can fake it.
“We are here to have fun together, Cam. I could give two shits whether you know anything about baseball. We are here for the experience of the surroundings, and to enjoy each other’s company, that’s all.”
I place my hand on her knee and gently give it a squeeze until I see her relax and smile. Apparently, that’s all that needs to be said. By the second inning, she is shouting at the umpires, referring to them as zebras…yeah, wrong sport. She is high-fiving all the fans in the general vicinity any time one of “our guys” as she refers to them does something “cool looking.” Any other woman, and I probably would have excused myself to the bathroom and hightailed it out of the stadium, but Campbell has made this night something to remember. Here I thought I would create something special for her, and all the while, she has done that for me.
“Travelling!” she shouts when the player on first attempts to steal second.
“That’s basketball,” I laugh. “It’s called stealing, not travelling,”
“Well damn, we may need to go to a basketball game next, because I sure know a lot of basketball lingo. I’m like the sports whisperer.” She laughs and the sound is so contagious, that I can’t help but join in.
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me until I can nuzzle into her neck. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to, Cam,” I murmur against her delicate skin. “As long as you know you can’t get rid of me.”
The crack of the bat connecting with the ball sends the crowd around us to their feet. A roar of cheers makes it impossible to hear her, but her actions speak louder than anyone around us.
Pulling away from me, she momentarily searches my eyes. Grabbing my t-shirt and twisting the collar in her grip she smashes my body to hers. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says against my lips before she takes complete control and crashes her lips to mine.
If I ever had any doubt that Campbell would follow through on this new journey we have set course on, it evaporated in that moment.
She was mine, and for the first time ever, a woman has been able to say with certainty that I was completely hers.
Campbell
In light of everything that has gone on, Jen’s idea about taking a mini Vegas vacation doesn’t seem so bad, even if it’s a bachelorette party. Everyone has been preparing for the weekend that is supposed to surpass all weekends. I’ve stayed grounded though, wrapped in the reality of the present.
Since Sharon died, Evan has called or texted nearly twice a week, making sure I’m okay. I think more than anything, he just wants to hear a friendly voice that cared for his mom as much as he did. It took a while, but I’ve finally come to terms with her passing. I’ve spent a large amount of time either with Lakin or at the foundation. I’m hopeful each time I’ve been back that I will run into Leah again, but I have yet to see her.
While Lakin gave me the file on Leah the day Sharon died, I haven’t been able to bring myself to look through it. I guess I’m hoping she will tell me her story herself. That, or I fear what I might find will open old wounds. Those wounds have long ago scabbed over, but I’m still waiting for the scars to fade.
I don’t dig into my past often, but somehow this girl with just one meeting has brought it all back.
When I first arrive at the foundation, I walk down the hallway through the administration portion of the building. Vivian’s office door is open, but she isn’t in it. I step inside, take Leah’s file out of my backpack, and lightly lay it across Vivian’s desk. It’s thick, the manila folder barely able to hold the papers within it. Without even looking inside, I know she either has been in the system a long time or has had several placements.
I slowly roll the chair from the desk and slide my body into the seat. I inhale deeply and release every bit of air in my lungs before I flip open the front cover of the folder. If anyone was walking by at that moment, they probably would have heard the sound of my heart cracking into shattered pieces and would have seen all resemblance of bravery spilling out onto the paper.
I attempt to read the first page, but as my eyes scan it, the words blur with tears. The red ink in large print at the bottom, reads loud and clear though:
PARENTAL RIGHTS TERMINATED. AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION.
In the six years she has been in the system, it looks as though Leah has had multiple placements. She bounced from foster home, back to her mother, and then back to foster homes over and over again until last year when her mother’s rights were finally terminated by the court and she was placed in a group facility.
There are no reports of sexual abuse or even physical abuse. She was removed from her mother’s care because of neglect. Documentation outlining a life with drugs in the home, her being left alone for days, weeks at a time, even a lack of food in the house filled the file. There lacks detailed explanations for the multiple placements, nor are there details as to why reunification with her mother did not work after so many years in the system. Those specifics will have to come from the caseworker or Leah herself.
After reading what is available, though, I want, more than ever, to find this girl and help her, if I can. There have been moments when I thought, I could be this girl’s mother; I could take that on. Reality sinks in though, and I know that just isn’t possible. My job has me constantly on the road in and out of bars half of the year, touring with bands. This girl needs a family, a real mom that is present. She needs someone who can help with homework and teenage drama, and that’s just not me.