Chapter 12

We left Atlanta and resumed our confrontations with our fellow AL East contenders. The Orioles were still not out of it, but Boston and New York both had slight leads on us within the Division, and at the moment, we were a game and a half out of making even the second wild card position.

The way the wild card playoff system operated, one of the two also-rans who wedged their way into the post-season was heading for an ignominious quick exit by losing a single post-season matchup. It felt weird to be huffing and puffing like crazy for the “privilege” of possibly playing one game and then packing up for the winter.

But the fans were still excited and we, as players, hoped not only to get to that single game play-off but to win the damned thing and move on.

I was calling Peggy every day, around noon, but missing her almost half the time because she would be in class (or heading for Athens to attend a class). She steadfastly refused to drive and talk on the phone.

When I missed her at the house, I’d talk to Tad or Sarah, or both. Tad was always pleased to talk to me. I would tell him how the Orioles were doing, but he kept close tabs on our progress on the Internet so it was hard to tell him anything he didn’t already know. I’d been sending him autographed baseballs from big-name players around the league. It was easy (and fun) to coax an autograph from an opposition team’s best-known player, box it up for Tad, and drop it off at a UPS store or a post office. He was acquiring a nice little collection.

And I kept telling the boy that, very soon, the season would end and I had big plans to come down there and spend the entire winter with him and his mother and grandmother.

Strangely, Tad’s reaction to these assurances was always lukewarm. It was hard to understand because, in all other ways he still seemed enthusiastic about our relationship. He continued to be an avid follower of my exploits on the field, and seemed to have largely abandoned both the Gwinnett and Atlanta Braves in favor of the Orioles.

I finally talked to Sarah about it, explaining to her how both Tad and Peggy seemed to clam up a bit whenever I talked about my returning to Lawrenceville. I asked her point blank whether there was something wrong.

“What’s going on, Sarah? Are they trying to tell me that my coming back for the winter would be an intrusion?”

“No, Marty! Not at all. We – all three of us – really would like to have you back here!”

“Tad doesn’t seem to even want to discuss it,” I said, not fully believing what Sarah was saying. “And whenever I say a word to Peggy about coming back, she just kind-of ignores me.”

Sarah didn’t say anything at all for a moment and I was beginning to think that the Silent Treatment was the Gabriel family’s universal response to this issue.

“Sarah? You still there?”

“I’m here, Marty ... Listen, Marty, it’s kind of complicated.”

“What’s complicated? ... Have I worn out my welcome already?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. Not at all! All of us want you to come back and stay here for the whole off-season.”

“If it’s a money thing, I’ve planned all along to pay my way. Listen, Sarah, they pay me real good up here. Just these six or seven weeks in the big leagues, I’ve paid off every bill I ever had. I won’t be a freeloader there.”

“I know that, Marty. That’s never been an issue.”

“Sarah, I know it hasn’t been very long that I’ve been around there, but I got to tell you, I think I’m flat-out falling in love with Peggy! This is serious with me!”

“I ... believe you. I understand, Marty. But there’s a problem – kind of a big one.”

“Peggy doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“I really don’t think that’s true. I think she is falling for you, too.”

“When we’re together, I start to thinking so,” I said, “but when we’re just talking on the phone – especially when I’m away from there – she sounds completely different.”

Sarah paused again. These long silences were putting me even more on edge.

“You want me to call you back, Sarah? You trying to get something done?”

“I’m just ... You’ve got to stop thinking you’ve done something wrong, Marty. You haven’t. It’s Peggy’s problem, not anything you can help.”

“Well, what is it? What problem?”

“She’s ... insecure, Marty. I mean, very, very insecure.”

“I don’t see it, Sarah. When we’re together, she’s, like, a big extrovert! We ... well, I mean, we get along so great! She’s a dynamo. A force of nature!”

“You’re talking about when you’re in bed. You’re talking about the sex.”

Now, how do you talk to your lover’s mother about how you and her daughter get along in bed? I mean, I knew Sarah was no prude, but now it was ol’ Marty who was getting a little reluctant to advance the conversation.

“We ... don’t have any problems there, Sarah”

“The sex is good?”

“Jesus, Sarah! Yes! It’s great, okay?”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Marty. You’ll be happy to know that Peggy tells me the same thing: that the sex is right off the charts.”

“Good to know,” I said, nonplussed. “So -- what’s the problem?”

“Peggy’s romantic life has been ... unusual. I mean, sure, she has a lot of advantages: she’s beautiful, she’s sexy and she ... well, she doesn’t have any of the problems a lot of women have with ... intimacy.”