Mothers

This is another story inspired by the Jesus bracelet. See this earlier post for the picture and explanation.

     I surged to my feet as the ball hit the bat with a crack and went soaring over the players heads.  My son chucked the bat behind him and took off around the bases while I shouted and urged him on.  It wasn’t a home run, but he could make it to third if he pushed himself.  My face scrunched in a grimace when he stopped at second.
     It was the third inning and he’d been holding back the whole time.  If he didn’t win this game he was going to have some serious explaining to do on the way home.  This kind of slacking was simply unacceptable.  He was better than this and he knew it.
     I bent to take my seat again and nearly toppled over when someone bumped me from behind.  I spun around, ready to lay into whoever it was, but rolled my eyes instead.
     It was her.
     Even the worst tongue lashing wouldn’t make a difference with her.  She’d just smile through the whole thing.  Heck, she’d probably pray for me at the end of it for good measure.
     She was late, as usual.  Who knows why?  I had yet to see her witness the first inning of any of our sons’ games.  How did she expect her son to take the game seriously if she didn’t set the example?
     I grumbled to myself as she plopped down next to me.
     “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
     I declined to answer as my son’s teammate sent the ball into right field, a sacrifice play allowing my son to make it to third.  I ground my teeth.  If he’d pushed himself on his last at bat, that would have been a run for home.
     “Oh, well done!” cheered the mom next to me.
     I glanced sideways at her.  Her son wasn’t even at bat yet.  Then again, all the other moms were cheering him, too.  Whatever.
     Late mom next to me turned to the mom behind her to ask how we were doing.  I massaged my temple at the reminder that no one had scored yet.  We usually had at least one run by now.  Everyone moaned as the current batter struck out.  That ended the third inning.
     I sighed as I watched the opposing players hustle off the field, replaced by our fielders.  Late mom bumped me again when she flung her arm around, waving to her son as he took the field.  How embarrassing.  How old did she think her son was?  Four?
     Then I rolled my eyes as her bracelet got caught on her sleeve.  She gave me a sheepish grin.
     “Rats.  This thing is always getting caught on stuff.  Isn’t that just the way of it?”
     If she didn’t stop nudging me, I was going to explode.
     “If it keeps getting caught, then why do you wear it?”
     She practically beamed at me and I instantly regretted the question.
     “Because it’s not just a bracelet.  It tells the story of Jesus.”
     “Oh, please.  I don’t need any of that religion crap, so don’t start.”
     Her smile turned pitying.  Oh, I wanted to smack her.
     “We all need Jesus.  Even your son understands that.”
     I groaned.  Trust her to bring up the biggest bone of contention between me and my son.  She must be one of the leaders at that ridiculous youth group he insisted on going to every week.  I’d only allowed it because most of his teammates went, so I figured it was another opportunity to strengthen their bond as a team.
     “Listen, I don’t know what sort of mumbo jumbo you feed him at that absurd group of yours, but we don’t put up with any of it in our house.”
     She just kept smiling.
     “But wouldn’t you like to know?  I mean, how can you combat it if you don’t know what it is?”
     I opened my mouth to refuse, but closed it again as I processed her words.  She had a point.  Then the first opposing batter stepped up to the plate.
     “Listen, why don’t we trade numbers and we can get together over coffee to discuss it?”
     Intrigued, but distracted, I rattled off my cell number.  A minute later she’d pressed a slip of paper in my hand, no doubt with her number on it.  I started to panic.
     “Hold on, don’t get it into your head that you’re going to convert me or anything.  I just want to know what my son is being exposed to so I can keep him from getting distracted from what’s important.”
     “Oh, of course.  After all, the best defense is a good offense.”
     I narrowed my eyes at her.  She just smiled at me again and I got the unnerving feeling that I was getting more than I’d just bargained for.
     Then I shrugged and turned back to the game.  I was strong.  I had too much backbone to give in to someone like her.  Besides, what did she have that I could ever possibly want?

 

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