Chapter Twenty-Three. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my backpack, Addison said, avoiding Chase's gaze.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my backpack," Addison said, avoiding Chase's gaze.

They were on their way to an Isotopes baseball game. Chase had no idea why Addison had expressed a sudden interest in the sport. She thought kids were into soccer these days.

"You were under pressure," Chase said. She hoped she wasn't condoning behavior that would one day turn Addison into some corporate monster that enslaved the masses in a third-world country with her "don't tell" philosophy. The Congo came to mind.

"No, it was wrong. I succumbed to blackmail, thinking only of myself and abusing your trust," Addison said, studying her hands as they gripped her backpack.

Chase's vision of the Congo popped like a soap bubble. Addison had morals and a conscience. "Well, if I behaved better toward my own mother it wouldn't have happened in the first

place—a cause and effect thing."

The old ballpark had undergone a serious makeover—modern architecture of steel frame and a groovy color scheme of adobe sand and sage green with some red thrown in to make it fun. The grounds were xeriscaped. Chase noticed the yuccas with their red blooms and the wild grasses. She was always interested in the horticulture of the city in an effort to see what would grow in the hot dry climate of New Mexico so she could add it to her garden with a fifty-fifty chance of species survival.

Addison pulled two tickets from her backpack.

"Where'd you get those?" Chase put her wallet away. She never ceased to be amazed by Addison's organizational skills.

"My mom gets them free at work—for her real estate clients."

Addison handed them to the large man wearing a red vest and white baseball cap with the Isotope logo of swirling atoms. Chase thought the logo was stupid. Before the city had lost the team due to lack of financing in the eighties the baseball team had been called the Dukes—named for the Duke of Albuquerque who had colonized the place by killing off and subduing the indigenous people. Not that she thought this was a good name either, but the name Isotopes was in reference to the bombs made at the two labs in New Mexico, Sandia and Los Alamos.

"Can you buy those hats at the concession stands?" Addison inquired.

"Sure can—take a left and you'll see the souvenir shop."

"Thank you."

"Well-mannered kid," the man remarked.

"Yes, she is," Addison said.

Chase smirked. "I'm going to make a terrible parent," she said as they walked off.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not very mature. If I was a normal parent I would chastise you for being a smart-ass with that man. Instead, I thought it was funny. That's not good role model material."

"Ha! That'll be the day. He got what he deserved. Grown-ups

shouldn't use the third person when the kid is perfectly aware of what is going on." She led them toward the souvenir shop.

Chase made a mental note: Don't treat Bud as if she weren't present by using the third person.

At the souvenir shop Addison picked out a khaki-colored hat with the Isotopes logo stitched in reds and yellows, then a huge yellow foam hand giving the number one sign and a small wooden bat.

"Are you sure you want all that stuff?" Chase asked as she tried on a black visor.

"I want to look authentic."

"Does that mean we get a hot dog?" Chase placed the visor back on the hook and turned her attention to the hot dog stand located in the walkway behind them.

"Of course," Addison said picking up the visor Chase had been looking at and tucking it under her arm with her other purchases. She went to the checkout counter and pulled out her debit card. When she had finished she handed Chase the visor. "Here, you'll need this. It's really bright out there."

Chase put it back on. "Thanks. Now, what do you want on your hot dog?"

"The works," Addison said, as she clipped the sales tag from their purchases with a small pair of scissors she'd fished out of her backpack.

Carrying the hot dogs, Chase followed Addison to their seats, happily musing about taking Bud to these kinds of events. She hoped Addison would help her at least in the beginning until she got good at maneuvering these activities. Bud was to have as normal a childhood as possible.

They went up two flights of stairs and were behind home plate.

"Wow, these are great seats," Chase said as they sat down. She started in on her hot dog. "These are really good," she said, after taking a large bite.

Chase had read about baseball games, saw photographs and

the blurbs on the television when a big game was on, but she'd never sat in the stands, smelled food that everyone knew was bad for your HDL or heard the fresh roasted peanut vendors as they made their way up the stands hawking their wares. She thought she might give those a try as well. The murmur of the crowd and the hum of the grandstand music all made her feel like she was on another planet. It was fantastic.

Addison took out a pair of enormous binoculars that looked a lot like the pair Stella had used for surveillance. She scanned the crowd.

"Don't you want your hot dog?"

"In a minute," she said, and then, appearing satisfied, she set the binoculars on her lap and ate her hot dog.

Chase sipped her Dr. Pepper and watched as the players did some practice throws. They wore white uniforms with red piping. The other team wore blue uniforms and yellow piping. She didn't know who they were, but it didn't matter. All she had to remember was who wore what color. She could handle that.

Addison put down her half-eaten hot dog and resumed her watch.

Something was wrong. She studied Addison. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on? We agreed no secrets."

Addison sighed and pursed her lips as if to demonstrate the difficulty of her confession. "My dad is dating this woman who has a kid. I wanted to see for myself."

"How do you know they're here?"

"I overhead my mom talking to him. Something about settling up this afternoon and he said he was going to the ballgame and she said you never took Addison to a ballgame. I raided my mom's stash of tickets. I wanted to see what they look like."

"I'll be right back." Chase raced back to the souvenir shop and grabbed a pair of binoculars. "These the best you got?" she asked the vendor.

"Lady, this is a souvenir shop. They'll get you a good look at home plate."

Chase paid and went back to the stands.

Addison was scanning the crowd. She looked up as Chase squeezed past her. She sat down. "All right, let's find the bastard. I mean your father."

"He is a bastard," Addison said.

"Okay, you scan that side and I'll get this side. We'll do it in quadrants."

"I found him," Addison said. She pointed. "Down there."

Chase pointed her binoculars in that direction. "He's by himself." She was hopeful.

"For the moment," Addison replied. She slurped at her Dr. Pepper as if retribution might be lurking in the recesses of the crushed ice.

"Want another one?" Chase asked.

"No, I'm fine." She pulled a Red Bull from her pack and poured it in the plastic cup with the red and orange Isotope logo like she was mixing a drink.

Chase was worried. A smart hopped-up kid with a grudge could do ugly things. "What are you planning on doing... exactly?"

"I haven't quite decided." She went back to her binoculars.

This added to Chase's anxiety. The announcer read the line-up for each team as the players ran out on the field. Chase couldn't concentrate. She didn't know a lot about baseball, but there was always Wikipedia if Bud had questions. She wondered what parents did before the Internet. They probably made shit up. Parenting wasn't so simple anymore. Kids could check facts now.

Addison went back to staring at her father long-distance.

The Isotope batter whacked the ball. He made it to first base and kept going as the ball sailed upward toward the centerfield fence.

Chase tapped Addison's shoulder. "Hey, look, something is actually happening. He might get a home run." Chase jumped around in her seat like all the others—she almost felt at one with

the rest of the world. Maybe that's what sports were about—a sense of unity. The batter made it home. The crowd, including Chase went mad. "That was exciting." She looked over at Addison. "Did you see it?"

"It's a boy with red hair and freckles. He looks like Ron Howard when he played Opie in Mayberry RFD."

"You've seen that show?"

"Nickelodeon."

"Who are we talking about?" Chase asked.

"My father's new kid."

"Really?" Chase grabbed her binoculars and honed in. Addison was right. Daddy was playing it up big. A chunky blonde appeared to be the boy's mother. That's who Dickhead is doing, Chase thought with disgust.

"See him?"

"Yep. His mother's nothing but a fat tart." Chase put the binoculars down on her lap. She looked over at Addison.

Addison was sitting back in her seat, looking over the program and eating her hot dog. "Let's have another one of these. They're really good. Should get the spicy brown mustard this time."

"I thought you'd be upset." Chase eyed her warily. She didn't want to set her off but absolute denial wasn't a good thing either. It could surface years later and cost a fortune in shrink fees.

"He's a boy. I can't compete with a boy and it all makes sense now. My father is as I suspected him to be. He's very insecure. He feels more comfortable with those people for whatever reason. It's perfectly understandable that he's more comfortable with a boy. I'm not able to grow a penis and if I had a little brother I'd be jealous and feel slighted. This way I don't have to deal with it. I always knew my mother was too sophisticated for him hence his attraction to the frumpy blonde—case closed, moving on."

"It's that easy?"

"I never really liked him in the first place."

"I'll go get us more hot dogs," Chase said, quite relieved. She could deal with her own neurosis but other people's frightened

her.

"Better hurry. Looks like we stand a chance of winning," Addison said. The crowd roared as another batter hit a home

run.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-31