Caleb laughed.
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try.”
“How do you know?”
“I know your kind.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that pushes a little boy out of the road and wakes up asking whether he survived.”
She put on her coat.
“I’ve been doing this for forty years. That kind is rare.”
Caleb looked at the lunchbox.
“Dorothy?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for staying in your seat.”
She smiled.
“Harold always told me to sit down long enough to see what’s really happening before deciding what to do.”
She looked back toward the section.
“So I sat.”
“I saw.”
“And then I stood.”
We watched her leave.
The stadium slowly emptied.
Caleb continued staring at the field.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can we come back?”
My bank account was almost empty.
I had no idea how I would afford another game.
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“How?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
