Lights Out (4 page)

In May he was sent back up to Kinston. In his first start he got rocked, giving up nine runs in one-and-two-thirds innings. He started developing another problem - stiffness in his shoulder -and was placed on the disabled list. When he came back he made a few more equally ineffective starts, then was demoted to the bullpen. Pitching in relief, he continued to get beaten up, his ERA ballooning to over ten, and in July he was released.

Ryan returned to Brooklyn, where he worked out every day and paid out of pocket to receive treatment from a physical therapist. He hired a kid on the Canarsie High baseball team to catch for him every afternoon, but he couldn’t get his speed or control back. A year went by with no change in his performance, and it finally set in that his lifelong dream of pitching in the major leagues was dead.

Ryan was crushed and disillusioned. He decided that what that gymnast had said was total bullshit. Nobody had worked harder or spent more time and energy chasing a dream than Ryan Rossetti. But in the end all those hours of dreaming and working his ass off had gotten him a big fat nothing.

Broke, living in his old room in his parents’ house, Ryan had no idea what to do with the rest of his life. His mother pushed him to apply to college, but he had no interest. The only thing that had ever interested him was baseball and without that everything seemed pointless. His mother suggested that he could get a degree in physical education, and maybe coach a high school or college baseball team someday, but the idea of spending his life on a baseball field, being constantly reminded of how his dreams had gone to pot, seemed like torture.

Ryan didn’t have the energy or the desire to look for a job. He spent most of his time at home, locked in his room, watching TV. He watched anything but baseball. Just the thought of baseball made him sick. He couldn’t even read the sports section of the newspaper anymore without getting depressed. The worst thing was hearing or seeing anything about Jake. Whenever the Pirates played the Mets, people would huddle around the big-screen TV at the Thomases’ house, like they were watching the fucking moon landing. It killed Ryan to see this guy who’d always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude about baseball making it so big. Ryan knew that should be
him
on TV, and Jake should be the one stuck in Brooklyn.

One day Ryan went into his backyard and burned all of his old baseball cards and baseball magazines and programs and year-books and anything else he could find in his house that had anything to do with baseball and was flammable. His mother wanted him to go to a shrink, talk to somebody, but he didn’t see the point. He started drinking beer and put on a gut. He also started listening to a lot of gangsta rap. He’d never paid much attention to music - especially rap - but he suddenly identified with the raw anger of rappers like Nas, 50 Cent, DMX, and Canibus.

But even rap couldn’t get him out of the dumps. When he was bitter he spent his days snapping at people, or in his room alone, cranking his stereo, getting pissed off at the world. When he was depressed he couldn’t get out of bed. Sometimes he got so down that he thought about killing himself. He had several plans for how to do it and might have actually gone through with one of them if it hadn’t been for Christina.

Ryan had had a crush on Christina for years. They went to kindergarten through sixth grade together at the Holy Family School, and then they went to the same junior high and high school. In eighth grade Christina was so beautiful that Ryan, like most of the boys in the school, was too intimidated even to talk to her anymore, but she was also his biggest masturbation fantasy. Practically every time Ryan jerked off- which meant about three times a day - he imagined that Christina was standing in front of him in her school uniform, unbuttoning her blouse, letting her short plaid skirt fall to her knees. Before he could imagine any more he’d start coming wildly all over his stomach.

In high school, when Jake and Christina started going out, Ryan was jealous as hell. It just didn’t seem right to him that an asshole like Jake should get a great girl like Christina. From the very beginning Jake treated her like dirt, always bragging to guys on the baseball team about other girls he’d fingered or fucked. Ryan wanted to tell Christina the truth about Jake, but he didn’t want to upset her, and he didn’t think it was his place to get involved.

After the Pirates selected Jake in the first round of the amateur draft and Jake got his five-million-dollar signing bonus, he bought Christina a huge rock and popped the question. Then he went off to play in the instructional league, and Christina stayed in Brooklyn and went to the New York City College of Technology and studied to become a dental hygienist. They saw each other a lot during the off-season, but most of the year they got together only once in a while, or just talked on the phone. Christina was upset that she couldn’t see Jake more often and that he kept putting off setting a wedding date, but it was hard to leave a guy she’d been with for so long, who was making millions of dollars a year, and was bound to make even more.

One night Ryan decided that without baseball he had absolutely nothing to live for. He was about to swallow a handful of Advils and end his miserable, pointless, stupid life, when he realized that OD’ing on Advil might not kill him - it might just fry his brain, make him into a retard or something - so he decided to jump in front of a subway instead. He was in his car, driving toward the Rockaway Parkway station, imagining the great relief he’d experience as the subway wheels decapitated him, when he decided he was hungry; so he pulled over in front of Flatlands Bagels and ordered an everything with chive cream cheese and a cup of black coffee. He had no logical reason to do this, because in a few minutes he would be dead, his head severed by a speeding L train, and a bagel with cream cheese wasn’t much of a last supper. Later, he decided that stopping there must have been fate, or God must have stepped in and made him do it, because he knew that if he hadn’t pulled over at the bagel store he definitely would’ve killed himself.

He took the bagel and coffee to go and headed back toward where he’d parked, around the corner on Ninety-second Street. It was starting to rain, a stiff wind coming in off Jamaica Bay. He was thinking about how he’d stand at the far end of the platform to catch the train at its fastest so the conductor wouldn’t have time to see him and brake, when he saw her. He felt like he was in one of those romantic scenes in movies, when the guy and the girl see each other in slow motion. She was walking toward him, starting to smile, those great eyes lighting up. She looked even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her, at a party after high school graduation. As they started talking, Ryan discovered that he was as nervous around her as he had been when he was a teenager, his mouth getting dry and his heart beating out of control, as if he’d just run a forty-yard dash. When she asked him where he was going, he couldn’t say, ‘To jump in front of a subway,’ so he said, ‘Oh, no place - just back home.’ She told him how great it was to see him, and about how most of her old friends from high school had moved out of Brooklyn, and suggested that they get together sometime. Ryan said that sounded great to him, and they exchanged numbers.

Ryan returned to his car, suddenly realizing that for the first time since his baseball career ended he had a reason to live.

He called Christina the next day, and they arranged to meet at the Arch Diner for dinner. Although it wasn’t a real date, because Christina was still with Jake, Ryan had never had a better time with a girl. They stayed at their table for over three hours, getting refills on their coffees and talking about people they knew from the neighborhood. Christina talked a little bit about her strained relationship with Jake, which made Ryan happy, and Ryan told her about how his baseball career had ended. She offered support, telling him that he just had to find something else he loved, and Ryan looked at her, smiling, because he knew he already had.

Ryan and Christina started getting together all the time, going to diners or bars, or just watching TV at each other’s houses. Ryan became as absorbed in Christina as he used to be in baseball. He couldn’t stop thinking about her when they were apart, and he wanted her as badly as he used to want to be a major-league starter. Whenever she started complaining about how unhappy she was with Jake, Ryan prayed she’d announce she was going to break up with him so he could have his shot. Sometimes he watched Jake on TV, talking to a reporter after a game, acting like Mr Nice Guy, with that phony game-show-host smile, and it killed him inside that Christina was still with him. Ryan could have told Christina stories of how Jake had cheated on her and lied to her, but he didn’t see the point in telling her what she already knew but just didn’t want to admit. Obviously Christina liked the idea of being engaged to a famous baseball player - even if he was the world’s biggest dick - and Ryan knew that if he tried to convince her to break up with Jake it would only work against him. If she was going to leave Jake, she had to do it on her own.

Ryan called her a lot, sometimes four or five times a day. He just liked to hear her voice and see what she was doing. Whenever she mentioned Jake’s name or said that they’d talked on the phone, he’d get jealous as hell. The times when she flew to Pittsburgh or some other city to be with him were unbearable. Ryan would lock himself in his room and listen to rap, trying to get hold of himself, but he couldn’t stop imagining Christina and Jake together.

One night Ryan was at Christina’s, watching TV, and her father was out playing poker. Christina hadn’t heard from Jake in over two weeks and he wasn’t returning her calls, and Christina was more pissed off than Ryan had ever seen her. At some point there was a lull in the conversation, and they looked into each other’s eyes. A moment later Ryan was kissing her. At first she kept her lips tightly shut and Ryan thought,
Fuck, I blew it,
and then her mouth opened and she started kissing him back in full force. A few minutes later they were in her bed, making love. It would’ve been perfect, like a dream come true, if it weren’t for his damn control problem.

Ryan had never had trouble lasting before, but he could hold out for only about ten seconds with Christina. He thought it was first-time jitters, but the next time it happened again. Sometimes he couldn’t last long enough to
start
making love to her, and he’d come while taking down her panties, unhooking her bra, or just kissing her. He thought it might have to do with her incredible beauty - maybe he was
too
attracted to her - but even thinking about disgusting things - a pile of shit in a toilet bowl, the gray hair that grew out of his father’s ears, or his ninth-grade algebra teacher, Mr Finklestein - didn’t help. He thought doing it outside might relax him, so he took her to Manhattan Beach one night. It was romantic under the stars, with the waves crashing, but he came all over the sand.

Ryan decided that Christina and Jake’s engagement was stressing him out, affecting his ability to relax and be himself in bed. But after tonight that would all be history. Jake would be officially out of the picture, and Ryan would be able to make love to Christina the way he knew he could.

The drivers behind Ryan were honking their horns and yelling out their windows, and Ryan realized he had caused a traffic jam. He stepped on the gas a little too hard, and the car sped forward. Then, as the light turned red at the next corner, he had to hit the brake and the car jerked to a stop.

A white minivan pulled up alongside Ryan’s car. The driver-side window opened and the driver, a fat guy in a suit, screamed, ‘The fuck’s your problem, shithead?’

Ryan, staring straight ahead, lost in thought again, didn’t bother answering. Then the light turned green and he drove on.

After Jake got out of the Town Car, he grabbed the pen and baseball that one of the fans was thrusting in his face, and signed the ball, continuing to smile widely with his thirty-five-thousand-dollar choppers. As he made his way slowly toward the stoop leading to his parents’ house, the crowd kept cheering and chanting his name, and he tried to keep up the charm, saying ‘Hey,’ ‘Yo,’ and ‘How’s it goin’?’ and promising that everyone would get an autograph. It was hard to see far ahead with all the flashes, but he made out his mother’s proud, smiling face off to the side. As usual when he hadn’t seen her in a while, he was surprised at how old she looked. There was gray in her hair, and her face looked thinner and more wrinkled than he remembered. He was still pissed off as hell at her for planning this stupid block party, but he didn’t want to blow the great photo op. This shit always looked great in newspapers - the superstar baseball player who loved his mother. It would really kick up his heart-of-gold image.

He kissed his mother on both cheeks, then hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear, ‘What the hell is this bullshit?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Donna Thomas whispered back, concerned.

‘I told you I wanted this weekend to be low-key,’ Jake said.

‘Oh, don’t be a party pooper,’ Donna said.

Smiling, with his arm around her waist, Jake said to the crowd, ‘I’ll be back in a few,’ and the crowd chanted, ‘Jake, Jake, Jake’ as if he were Rudy, that midget football player from Notre Dame.

Jake and his mother reached the stoop where his father was waiting.

Antowain Thomas was six-four, two-eighty, but he had more fat than muscle these days and receding, close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. He gave Jake a once-over, looking him up and down, and Jake knew the old man was thinking,
Why you dressin’ like that? Just ‘cause you got it going on don’t mean you gotta show it off.
Meanwhile, Antowain was wearing old brown corduroys and a yellow-and-red wool sweater he must’ve had for twenty years. He always wore mismatched outfits and kept his clothes until they ripped or moths ate holes into them.

Jake shook his father’s hand, and then smiled and gave him an extra-warm hug because the flashes were still going off and he knew it was another prime photo op.

Walking between his parents, with his arms around their waists, Jake headed up the stoop toward the front door.

When they entered the house, Jake was ready to chew out his parents for planning this party behind his back, but the lights went on and people shouted, ‘Surprise!’

The house was packed. Jake recognized a lot of his old friends and classmates, going back to elementary school at P.S. 276, and some of his parents’ friends and people his father worked with. Some of his relatives were there too, including his sister, Michelle, and her accountant-dork husband, Roger.

Jake acted happy about the surprise and shook hands and gave people warm hugs. Then, with his usual charm, he gave the room a speech about how ‘unbelievable’ this was, and how great it was to see everybody again.

After about fifteen minutes of pouring on the bull, he took his mother off to the side and said, ‘I can’t believe you did this.’

‘Did what?’

‘I told you I wanted a mellow weekend, and this is what you do? See? And you wanna know why I don’t come home to Brooklyn anymore?’

‘I’m just so proud of you, that’s all,’ Donna said, ‘And I want the whole world to know it.’

‘But you can’t do shit like this to me,’ Jake said. ‘I mean, I’m a major celebrity now. I can’t just be around a crowd of people without advance notice. I need security.’

‘Security from who?’

‘Kooks, stalkers, psychos. God knows who the hell’s out there.’

As if on cue, the crowd on the street started chanting, ‘Jake, Jake, Jake . . . !’

‘Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,’ Donna said. ‘Why don’t you have a drink or something to eat?’

She tried to put her arm around his waist, but Jake avoided it.

Then his cousin Bobby came over and said, ‘Hey, Jake, they’re asking for you outside.’

‘Yeah, I hear,’ Jake said. ‘Do me a favor, will ya? Tell them I’ll be back outside in a few.’

‘Sure,’ Bobby said, and walked away.

‘See? Now I’m gonna be out there all day,’ Jake said to his mother. ‘I should just duck out the back door and stay in a hotel.’

‘Oh, don’t act so spoiled,’ Donna said. ‘Some people would kill for what you have.’

‘You don’t get it,’ Jake said. ‘I wanted to take a break from my life this weekend. I thought I’d see you and Dad, and get to spend some time with Christina. Where is she, by the way? I didn’t see her in there.’

‘She had to work,’ Donna said. ‘But she said she’s gonna be by later. Look, Jake. You don’t get a lot of opportunity to see your family and friends nowadays, so why don’t you just try to have some fun with it? It’ll just be a few more hours; then you can relax the rest of the weekend.’

‘I don’t have a choice now, do I?’ Jake said.

Back in the living room, Jake was cornered by his uncle Alan, Donna’s brother. Alan was a thin, bald guy with thick glasses who lived in Nowheresville, Pennsylvania, somewhere out near the Delaware Water Gap, and he always bored Jake to tears. Jake wasn’t sure what Alan did for a living - something to do with marketing or sales, or computers, or maybe something with drugs or chemicals - but he went on and on about his job, and Jake had to back away a couple of feet because Alan was a close-talker, and his breath smelled like sardines. Alan continued talking about whatever, and Jake smiled at other people in the room and said things like, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ ‘Yo, what up?’ and ‘Hey, look at you,’ and shook hands with people who were passing by and had little conversations with them, telling them how great they looked and how good it was to see them, even if he had no idea who they were. Some old guy came up to Jake and said, ‘The Mets need you in right,’ and Jake said, ‘Let’s see if they can afford me,’ and the guy walked away laughing. A black guy with a shaved head came over and said, ‘Great to see you again, man,’ and Jake said, ‘Yeah, you too, bro,’ and then they shook hands and slapped each other’s backs, and Jake figured the guy was somebody he went to school with, although he didn’t look at all familiar.

Five minutes must have gone by, and Alan was still yapping away. Then Jake heard the words
keynote speaker
and
an hour or two tops
and he knew he had his chance to escape.

‘Love to, man,’ Jake said. ‘I’ll tell my PR guy to buzz you. If it fits into my schedge, I’m there, bro.’

Jake walked away but didn’t get far before he heard a high, nasal voice say, ‘Jake, wait, I wanna talk to you.’

Jake recognized the voice right away. He had known Rose-Marie Rossetti his entire life and she and his mother were still best friends.

Rose-Marie came over and gave him a kiss; she had a lot of lipstick on so he knew there was a big mark on his cheek now. Hoping he wouldn’t get a zit there, Jake said, ‘It’s so great to see you. How’s it going?’

‘Everything’s going great, and it’s great to see you. It was such a great idea your mom had to throw this party.’

‘Yeah, it was,’ Jake said. ‘So where’s Ryan?’

Jake didn’t really care where Ryan was, but he realized for the first time that he wasn’t at the party.

‘He’ll be here later,’ Rose-Marie said. ‘He wouldn’t miss this for the world.’

‘Cool,’ Jake said. ‘I’d love to see him.’

Jake didn’t expect Ryan’s father, Rocco, to be at the party, so he didn’t even ask about him. Rocco and Jake’s father had hated each other for years; they’d never set foot in each other’s houses, and they never would.

‘So,’ Rose-Marie said, ‘you look handsome as always.’

‘Thanks,’ Jake said, pretending to be flattered. ‘You look great too.’ Then he took a closer look at her and saw that she was still overweight and had that dark mustache. Growing up, the kids in the neighborhood used to make fun of Rose-Marie - behind Ryan’s back - walking around with their forefingers over their upper lips.

‘I heard you had another great season,’ Rose-Marie said.

‘That’s true, I did.’ Jake looked beyond her, waving to his aunt Joanne.

‘We’re all so proud of you.’

‘That’s great to hear. Having support at home means a lot to me.’

‘You know, I see a lot of Christina these days.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Ryan and her have become very friendly. He has her by the house sometimes.’

‘Yeah? That’s cool.’Jake smiled at the kind-of-familiar-looking woman across the room who he thought might be an old friend of his mother’s but who could’ve been his second- or third-grade teacher.

‘Christina’s a great girl,’ Rose-Marie said. ‘When are you gonna marry her already?’

‘Stay tuned.’

‘Really? You set a date? Donna didn’t tell me anything about that.’

‘We didn’t set a date
yet.’

‘Well, you better not do it too soon. I’m gonna have to go on a diet before the wedding.’

Jake rested a hand on Rose-Marie’s shoulder playfully, then said, ‘You kidding? You look beautiful just the way you are.’

‘What a charmer. No wonder all the girls go so crazy over you.’

‘Great seeing you again.’ Jake started away.

‘Oh, and I made my famous lasagna especially for you,’ RoseMarie called after him.

‘Great,’ Jake said. ‘Can’t wait to have some.’ He smiled until Rose-Marie looked away, and then he winced. He was off carbs, and besides, he hated Rose-Marie’s lasagna. It was always too dry, and something in the sauce gave him the runs. She had to be the only Italian woman in the world who couldn’t cook.

His sister waved him over, and they talked for a couple of minutes. Michelle was two years older than Jake and taught economics or business or something like that at some college on Long Island that he always forgot the name of. Jake could never think of things to talk about with his sister, so he was glad when Bill and Wanda, neighbors from up the block, came over and joined the conversation. As soon as he had the chance, he slipped away.

After talking with some more neighbors and relatives, Jake finally made it to the stairwell and he didn’t blow his chance for a getaway. He went up the stairs two at a time, then down the hallway to his old room, since converted to a guest room. Glancing around, he saw that the bed was covered with coats, and Steven and Ellen, some old friends of his parents’, were there. Before he was seen, Jake made a U-turn and went through his parents’ bedroom, into their bathroom, and locked the door.

He took out his cell and called Christina at work. A receptionist answered, and Jake said, ‘Yeah, Christina, please.’

‘She’s with a patient. Who’s calling, please?’

‘Tell her it’s her little itty-bitty cuddle bear.’

‘Little what?’ The receptionist was suspicious, as if she thought this might be a crank call.

‘Itty-bitty cuddle bear,’ he said slowly.

She asked him to say it a third time, and he did, spelling
itty
and
bitty.

‘Wanna leave a number?’ she asked.

‘It’s an emergency; just put me through.’

The receptionist deep-breathed, then said, ‘Hold on.’

About a minute later Christina came on and said, ‘Hello.’

‘Hey, baby, hey, baby, hey,’ Jake said to the tune of the No Doubt song.

‘What’s up?’ Christina asked, sounding pissed off.

‘That’s the welcome I get?’

‘I’m really busy. What’s the emergency?’

‘I wanna see you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Hell.. . I mean my parents’ house, hiding out in the bathroom

. . . Hey, you didn’t know about this party bullshit, did you?’

‘Kind of. Look, I really have to go. I’ll see you later, okay?’ Still looking in the mirror, Jake noticed a short, very thin hair on his forehead, below his hairline.

‘Shit,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ He opened his parents’ medicine chest to look for a pair of tweezers. ‘So when am I gonna see you, baby?’

‘I just told you - later. When I get off work.’

‘I can’t believe you’re gonna keep me waiting so long.’ Jake made a disgusted face, looking at his mother’s diaphragm and at a bottle of wart ointment, and then he found the tweezers.

‘Look, I really have to go,’ Christina said.

‘When do you get off?’

‘Four thirty.’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’ Jake plucked the hair.

‘No,’ Christina said quickly. ‘I mean, I gotta go home and change and . . . I’ll just see you at your house like around six.’

‘Cool,’ Jake said. ‘I’ve got some good news for you.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘I better go.’

‘Can’t wait, baby.’

After plucking another stray hair from under his right eyebrow, Jake replaced the tweezers and realized he was feeling bummed. For a second he thought it had to do with the party and the whole Marianna Fernandez mess, but then he decided it was Christina. In high school they used to have great times together, talking and laughing, but now he felt like they had nothing to say to each other, and he wondered if this whole getting-married idea was a big mistake. Maybe his lawyer could talk the Fernandezes’ lawyer into getting Mr Fernandez to sign that paper and settle. Or, if they couldn’t settle, and they needed some distraction PR, maybe he could start dating Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan or an Olsen twin. Getting linked with some trendy chick would get him tons of photo ops and mentions in the gossip columns, and it would save him from having to marry a dental hygienist from Brooklyn.

Nah, Jake decided. The big sports star hooking up with the movie-star type was a cliché - marrying his high school sweetheart was the right move for his image.

Jake left the bathroom. In the hallway outside his parents’ room Jake met his father, who’d just come up the stairs. Antowain Thomas gave Jake the same once-over that he’d given him outside, looking him slowly up and down, and then said, ‘You spend so much time getting dressed, no wonder you got no time to return your father’s damn phone calls.’

‘You called me?’ Jake said, taking out his cell.

‘Not now,’ Antowain said. ‘I’m talking about during the season. I get your voice mail every time.’