Bottom of the Ninth
Elena sat alone in Section 204, the plastic seat warm beneath her thighs. Around her, couples shared beers and families screamed for the home team. Her iphone buzzed in her pocket—a phantom vibration, no message. Just like the last three weeks.
She pulled the phone out anyway. Nothing from Marcus. Just a reminder: Take evening vitamin with food.
The prenatal vitamins sat in her purse like accusation. Six weeks ago, they'd been celebrating. Two pink lines, a nursery already sketched in their heads. Now the jar was half-full, a daily ritual she couldn't quit. Each pill a memorial to what never quite arrived.
"Beer here!"
She bought one. The vitamin reminder had said with food, but beer was close enough. The vendor moved down the aisle, and Elena watched the baseball game unfold below without really seeing it.
Her phone buzzed again. Real this time.
Marcus: Can we talk?
The baseball arced toward the bleachers. The crowd rose as one, collective breath held. Elena's thumb hovered over the screen.
Three months ago, they'd sat in these exact seats. Marcus had explained the infield fly rule, something about strategy and sacrifice. She'd pretended to care because his eyes lit up like stadiums at night. Later, in their apartment, they'd lain tangled in sheets while he whispered about names and coaching tee-ball and all the beautiful ordinary future they'd assume was waiting.
The batter connected. The ball sailed into the stands, three sections over.
Elena typed: I'm done talking.
She deleted it. Typed: Don't come home.
Deleted that too.
The vendor returned. "Another?"
She shook her head, swallowed the vitamin dry.
Marcus had stopped asking about her vitamins two weeks ago. He'd stopped asking about anything, really. The silence between them had grown thick, unmapped territory.
The inning ended. The scoreboard flickered: TOP 9.
Elena stood up. Her phone stayed in her pocket. Theç»´ç”Ÿç´ bottle clinked against her keys as she walked up the aisle, toward the exit sign glowing in the dusk. Behind her, the crowd roared for something—maybe a run, maybe just the feeling of being alive together in the dark.
She stepped into the cooling air and didn't look back.