For the next two days, I spent my time relaxing in my room, reading through some of the books that were displayed on a shelf across from the bed, and visiting the spa rooms that I discovered positioned throughout the cottage. Though I tried to keep myself distracted, every few minutes I found myself thinking about the date that was coming. I didn’t know what to expect. Fawn had told me that I would find out about my date soon before it happened and that I should just go along with the information and instructions that I received. That was a somewhat intimidating suggestion, but I agreed. I had already committed myself to going through with this every step of the way and I figured that that meant letting myself get taken away by whatever date the men had planned for me.
I was starting to feel as though Fawn had gone through what paltry information I was able to give her and decided that she wasn’t going to be able to help me when I finally heard a quick knock on my door. I knew that it couldn’t be Noah, since he never knocked and had a few times now walked in on me in partial undress or while I was in a bath. Feeling suddenly nervous, I hesitated to approach the door. Finally, I took a few steps toward it and turned the handle. A large white box sat on the floor with a note secured to the top with red ribbon. I leaned down to pick it up and scurried back into my room, closing the door quickly as if protecting whatever it was that was waiting for me in the box. Settling onto the edge of the bed, I rested the box beside me and slipped the envelope out from under the ribbon. I opened the envelope and pulled out a thick white notecard.
“Take me out to the ballgame.”
“That’s it?” I asked the card.
I tossed it aside and untied the bow so that I could take the top off of the box and look into it.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
I felt incredibly ridiculous walking out of the cottage in preparation for a date wearing the black stretch pants, tight white tank top, miniature baseball jersey, and tennis shoes that had been waiting for me in the box. Usually getting ready for a date would have required hoping that I would fit into a dress, squeezing into heels that might be too tight but looked too good for it to matter, and teasing my hair to the point that it may justify turning me into the antibullying groups. It was an ordeal that took a few hours. Preparing for this date took less than half an hour, several minutes of which were taken up trying to keep a curl in my ponytail. There was a somewhat anticlimactic feel to stepping out of the cottage now, as if I had built myself up so much for this elaborate fantasy date and now didn’t feel like my sprucing-up ritual had really justified the date.
The same white limo that had picked me up from my house to bring me to The Enchanted Woods was waiting for me outside and I allowed the chauffer to help me into the back seat. We drove away from the cottage without him saying anything and I let the silence remain for several minutes.
“Have you worked for Fawn for long?” I finally asked.
“Six years.”
“So, she doesn’t cycle out drivers like she does dates.”
I had meant it more to myself, but he heard me.
“No.”
“Have you ever brought another woman to a date like this?” I asked.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Oh, good.”
I turned and looked out the window, watching the scenery as it went by. We left the quiet peacefulness of the wooded area around the cottage and started down a larger road that quickly turned into a highway. We had been traveling for nearly half an hour when we entered the city and turned onto a smaller street that led into the back lot of a minor league baseball stadium. The limo pulled to a stop and I suddenly felt a flock of butterflies swarm into my belly. They flew around frantically, some seeming to try to get up my throat. I didn’t want to get out of the car. As long as I stayed right where I was, all of this could stay just a fantasy, just an abstract idea of something that I could do to improve myself. I wouldn’t actually have to face the man who was waiting for me or push myself out of my comfort zone as much as I had promised myself, and Fawn, that I was going to do.
The door to the limo opened and the chauffeur peered in at me.
“We’re here,” he said.
I nodded.
“I noticed.” I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Alright. Here I go.”
I stepped out of the car and looked toward the stadium.
“Lee will be waiting for you inside,” the driver said.
“Thank you.”
I started toward the stadium feeling slightly unsteady on my feet. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had even been to a baseball game much less did any type of activity that involved baseball. The outfit that was sent to me was worrisome and I had the sinking feeling that I was going to be expected to participate in something athletic. I crossed the small amount of the parking lot and passed through the first arched door that I saw. It led me into a wide corridor studded with concessions stands and merchandise booths all advertising the local team. There was an eeriness about how empty and quiet the stadium was and I felt glued to my spot. A few moments later I heard the slight crackle of an announcement system coming on.
“Good evening, Snow. I will meet you at the beer stand.”
Elegant.
I was feeling that I might need to take advantage of Fawn’s reminder that what happened on the date was up to me and that I could request to go back to the retreat at any time when I turned the corner and in the direction that the signs on the wall sent me and saw the man standing in front of the beer stand. Clad in the tight pants and buttoned jersey of a baseball uniform, he was leaned back against the counter with a tall cup of beer in either hand. He held one out to me as I approached.
“My name is Lee,” he said as I took the beer from him.
I knew that that wasn’t his real name. It was an alias that had been assigned to him by Fawn. It fit him, though, and it didn’t even occur to me to wonder what his real name might be. It did, however, make me wonder why Fawn insisted that the men change their names but she was permitted to keep hers.
“Snow,” I said, accepting the beer. “Thanks.”
He gave a single nod and brought his own cup to his lips for a sip. I followed his lead, sipping some of the malty foam into my mouth first and then tipping the cup further to take a full sip. It was a darker brew than I would have expected to be sold at a baseball stadium, but I supposed things might have changed in the years that it had been since I had been anywhere near such a stadium. I took another sip and then brought the cup down to hold it in front of me, staring at him expectantly. I knew that he was supposed to have planned a date for us, and I hoped that standing in an empty stadium drinking beer wasn’t it.
That would most certainly not be one of my fantasies, if I had any.
“As you might have guessed,” he said, “I’m a baseball player.”
“I gathered that,” I said.
He took another sip from his cup and then turned to put it on the counter behind him before reaching for mine. I gave it to him and he put it in place with his.
“I thought that tonight we could have a little fun on the field,” he said.
I now knew for certain that the decidedly un-datelike clothing that had been sent to me had been selected to ensure that I was able to move easily. It was intimidating to think about. I prided myself in being many things, but sporty was not one of them. It wasn’t that I was the kind of person who would fall over my own feet when walking down the street, but I also wasn’t going to be the first one chosen for a team if a spontaneous game of dodgeball broke out somewhere. I was thankful then that this date was not with a man who I had been lusting after or even knew. It would be too embarrassing to even contemplate attempting to be athletic if I was also trying to impress a man who I was attracted to. That thought struck me, and I smiled, understanding more now what Fawn intended when she created the retreat.
Lee started toward the field and I followed him. We stepped through the arch that led to one of the towering flights of steps that rippled through the seats positioned on tiers around the diamond. It looked cavernous, far larger than anything that I remembered. We walked down the steps and out of a gate that led down onto the field.
“What position do you play?” I asked.
I knew that it was a relevant question, even though no response would have had any significance to me. I was only ever a casual baseball watcher and had never really caught on to all of the nuances of the game.
“Catcher,” he said, “and Designated Hitter.”