“You should probably get some cardio,” she suggested.
I really am a ‘stupid boy’ sometimes. I had no clue what she meant until she began to take her clothes off. Thank God for older women to show us the way.
I suddenly had a question pop into my head.
“Hey, how long before I can sleep with Pam?” I asked.
“You’re seriously asking me about having sex with another woman when I just took my clothes off?”
“When you put it that way … I just thought … never mind,” I stammered.
She lay down next to me, spread her legs, and pointed.
“Make mama happy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After we we’d had our fun, Peggy smacked my butt.
“That’s what I call cardio,” she said with a big smile.
I got up to take my shower. When I came back, Peggy and Duke were gone. Some activities put a smile on your face, and this was one. Then I realized something: she never told me when Pam would be ready for sex. I think she got distracted.
◊◊◊
When I ran downstairs to breakfast, Megan gave me a smirk. I guess Mom caught it.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked.
I opened the refrigerator to decide what to make and left Megan to explain herself.
“What did you do, David?” Mom asked my back as I rummaged through the fridge to find what I wanted.
“I have no idea. Megan was the one giving me the look. Ask her.”
I peeked under my arm and saw Megan lean over to my mom and whisper something to her.
“They do that all the time,” Mom said.
“Who does what all the time?” Dad asked as he came into the kitchen.
“David and Peggy had sex this morning,” Mom announced.
“Oh. What are you making for breakfast?” Dad asked.
“I thought I’d make a frittata,” I answered.
Megan sat in stunned silence. I guess the announcement that one of her brothers had just had sex would have been news in her house. She wasn’t used to how open my family was.
“Don’t forget to get the egg-to-dairy ratio correct,” Dad warned.
“I’ve got this,” I said to let my dad know not to be so bossy.
He was the king of frittatas. He made them for dinner when he was tired. A frittata was a great catch-all for leftovers. One of the tricks was to make sure all the ingredients you added were fully cooked before you combined them with the egg mixture.
We had a cast-iron skillet that was perfect for making them in. Dad told me the pan had been his grandmother’s and had been passed down to him. I’d decided on ham, potatoes, onions, and mushrooms, with cheddar cheese. The egg-to-dairy ratio was twelve eggs to half a cup of dairy, which could be whole milk, sour cream, yogurt, or crème fraîche. All were great options. I found a container of sour cream, so that was my pick.
I cooked the ham, potatoes, and onions until they were almost done, then added the mushrooms. To the eggs, I added the sour cream, cracked black pepper, and dill weed. I mixed it all up and then added the cheddar cheese. I poured the egg and cheese mixture over what was in the skillet. To top it off, I sprinkled Parmesan to add a sharp hit of salty, nutty flavor.
I put my frittata into a 350-degree oven and set the timer for twenty minutes. Dad watched me like a hawk.
“Remember, a good frittata should have the texture of custard: trembling and barely set,” Dad reminded me.
“Maybe you should watch it,” I shot back.
“You really should. We all remember the last time David made one. It turned out like an old kitchen sponge,” Mom said.
I just threw up my hands and made myself some tea. By the time it was ready, Peggy had joined us.
“Oh good, you made it,” Peggy said to my dad as he took it out of the oven.
You make one mistake!
◊◊◊
For once, the seedings had held. St. Joe was number one, and we were number two. Since they joined our conference, they’d had the best baseball program. They actually fielded three teams during the year. When it came time for postseason play, they pulled together sort of their all-star team.
I judged St. Joe to be the better team, as far as skill set goes. I thought our only advantage was that we’d played as a team all year. That was important in certain situations. You knew what your teammate would do and acted accordingly.
Today, Brock Callahan was pitching. We all hoped he could do as well as his brother. We were having an unseasonably warm day. On the way to school, they said it was 78 degrees. When you were used to the mid-60s, that felt hot during warm-ups. I just leaned my head back and soaked in the sun. I understood why people fled the Midwest during the winter months for more balmy climes. In only a few weeks, I would be in Cuba, where it would be even warmer. It felt good to let the heat help loosen up my muscles.
“What’re you thinking?” Jim asked me to bring me back from my sun worship.
“That you’re going to be sweating your ass off in Alabama in a few weeks. When are you heading out?”
“In about a month. I’ve enrolled in summer school to get a couple of classes under my belt,” he said as he looked around. “I’m going to miss it here.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I can’t believe I only have one year left.”
“It’ll be over before you know it,” Jim said.
“You must be nervous. Everything will be new.”
“Suzanne said I’ll love it,” he said, referring to his older sister. “I’ve been talking to a few of the new recruits and getting to know them. It won’t be like I won’t know anyone.”
“Are you excited about going?” I asked.
He gave me a tight smile.
“My dad told me it was part of growing up. I’ve been in the same bedroom all my life. My mom and dad have been there for me. I miss my sister, but she seems happy at Northwestern. It’ll be fine.”
“We’ll miss you. My uncle tells me not to be in such a hurry to grow up. I agree with him. Go and enjoy the heck out of it. All too soon, you’ll have to grow up and get a nine-to-five. I don’t want you to look back and think you didn’t have some fun.”
Jim scoffed at me.
“Says the man who’s constantly working. When are you going to take your own advice?”
I shook my head. He was right. I missed the days when the highlight was going for a bike ride, going swimming, or playing video games. It had been at least three months since I logged onto my gaming account. I just didn’t seem to have the time.
“You know what the saddest part is about that? I have to plan downtime.”
“That’s hardly a surprise; your life is crazy. I hear people say they wished they were you, but I’ve watched you. I don’t think I have it in me to do what you do. What I do know is that watching you makes me work harder,” Jim said.
“I have no doubt you’ll work hard. Just don’t let it consume you.”
Coach Haskins called us in to let St. Joe have the field.
◊◊◊
Because St. Joe was the number one seed, they were technically the home team, even though the game was played on our field. We’d had to offer them almost half the tickets to the game for the High School Athletic Association to agree to this arrangement. Most Regional games were played on local high school baseball fields. Because of the number of people that attended our games, the HSAA wanted all the Regionals to be held at Lincoln. That was because we had the largest seating capacity of any high school in the state.
Next week, for Sectionals, all the games would be played on neutral sites. Somehow, our athletic director, working with the Booster Club, had arranged for our field to be a host site. State was another hosting stadium, as were two other universities. State would eventually host the championship final four.
Something I didn’t like about how our state did high school playoffs was it was one and done. To win state, you had to win eight straight games. In baseball, that was an almost unheard-of feat. That was why even the College World Series was a double-elimination system. The major leagues did have a play-in game, but then after that, they changed to a best-of-five or best-of-seven format.