The Constellations

Eric signed up for baseball

Eric signEd up For BasEBall on Saturday morning. Playing the previous season had whittled his daydreams from being Reggie Jackson to escaping right field. In twelve games he had four balls hit in his direction, and two of those over his head.Worse, his midgame replacement was Ed Arndt, one of Cammy’s classmates from special education. Whatever his handicaps, Ed Arndt—as with Charlie Brown, people always used his full name—played with style. His flip-up sunglasses were the envy of the league. Unfortunately , he paid more attention to the shades than to fly balls, so Mrs. Arndt insisted he wear a helmet in the outfield. This only added to his mystique. Failure did not faze Ed Arndt. No chatter shook him and no situation daunted him, whereas Eric cried after his strikeouts, especially when he made all three outs in an inning. Ed Arndt had hit four fair balls during the season and scored at least twice. “Will I be on the same team as last year?” Eric asked. “I think so,”Roy said.“They organize teams by where you live.” Being teammates with Johnny Garland, the league’s best pitcher , guaranteed Eric another first place trophy. It also meant three months of being knocked on his behind during stolen-base drills, of watching Johnny stomp and scream himself red-faced over balls and strikes, of receiving personal threats if—in Eric’s case, when—you made a mistake. Lorraine Garland leapt up from her chair behind the registration table, took Eric’s face in her hands, made the usual fuss. Roy filled out the forms while Mrs. Garland held up shirts to Eric’s chest. Numbers one and two were reserved for the team’s new players, both of them second graders. “I think number three will fit,” Mrs. Garland said. “Are you looking forward to baseball?” Kevin Cunningham 25 “Yes,” Eric lied. “I’m sure you’ll do great, sweetie. You got so much better last year. How are your sisters?” Eric winced as she yanked the stiff new hat over his eyes.“Well, that’s the best we can do. Now what are you up to today?” “The garden,” Eric said. “We rented a rototiller,” Roy added. “That’s just wonderful,” Mrs. Garland said. “You should be fine, just fine. We won’t have another hard frost, I don’t think. Eric, sweetie, it looks like you’re ready. Don’t lose your hat, because we don’t have any extras.” They returned home to their work, Eric to his room, his father to the garden. Roy, unable to hear above the roar of the rototiller , failed to notice the landlady’s car. Only when he caught sight of Eric waving his arms did Roy cut the engine and put on his shirt. The landlady was waiting in the car, dressed in black, looking like a mourner impatient to put a hated husband to rest. Her son, the man who farmed the surrounding farmland, helped her out of the car. She then shook off his arm to hobble over on her own. “Where is the rent?” she said. Roy knew every reason would sound like an excuse to her. Every reason sounded like an excuse to him. “I’m a little short,” he answered. “If money’s so short why’s the pit full of beer cans? Do you remember you signed a lease? Using your wife as an excuse has gone on long enough, hasn’t it?” “Mother,” her son sighed. “Have you started work yet?” she said. “I just started back full time,” Roy said. “I thought you got that cast off weeks ago.” The rototiller had dulled Roy’s hearing enough so that when he looked at the ground he could almost block out the rest of it. Almost. Three kids and this was the example he set. How many months late did he plan to be? An immigrant she knew from church, just off the plane from Iran, had already earned enough 26 The Constellations to buy a house. That’s hard work. People from other countries were the only ones that appreciated America anymore. “I’ll have it Wednesday,” he said when she stopped. The landlady jabbed a finger at him.“I’ll be here.And I want to see what you’ve been doing to my house.If it’s damaged I’ll throw you out...