She woke up that morning in pain, something she was now accustomed to. She would have to grit her teeth until the cursed casts were finally sawed off, discarded forever. Red Mabel arrived at nine, made Laverna coffee, and gave her a bath.
Before leaving, Laverna had Red Mabel dial Bucky’s phone number and put the phone between her shoulder and ear. The cord stretched across the kitchen table.
“I need you to hit some balls today,” she said.
“I’ve got stuff planned,” he protested.
“I don’t give a shit,” she said. “You owe me. Two hours.” She let the phone fall from her shoulder, knowing that she could not hang it up, not caring that her line would remain busy until the nurse returned.
Red Mabel arranged her pills as always, lined up in piles on the counter, so she could reach down and bob for them, like apples. She swallowed one of Black Mabel’s bootleg pharmaceuticals and her blood pressure medication at the same time, a combination that pleased her.
Laverna eased herself down in her recliner just as she felt the pills kick in, and she floated in this way, lost in a plot to poison the Clinkenbeard family. Laverna had a long list of people she wanted to disappear from this earth. Unfortunately, one was going to be playing right field, and was blood kin.
Rachel was not athletic, or graceful, or coordinated. Rachel was good at destroying things, and flirting with her hair. Right field was the logical place to stick her, because nothing ever happened out there, unless there was a lefty at bat.
Laverna wanted to keep Rachel close, within eyeshot. Rachel claimed she didn’t drink anymore, but Laverna didn’t trust her daughter’s sobriety. There was nothing trustworthy about Rachel. Thinking about Rachel made her start to panic, and before she knew it, she was bobbing for the antianxiety pill. In her experience, something always went wrong when she let down her guard. Laverna kneeled, the blood rushing to her head. She attempted to nudge the phone toward the linoleum, the carpet burning her shins as she was successful in moving it inches, and then a foot. She was sweating, and concentrated so hard on the phone that she forgot the cord had grown tight, caught by her shoe. The phone suddenly rocketed around her, came to rest even farther than she had dropped it. She would not give up. She wanted a beer, decided she would have Red Mabel bring the birdbath from outside and fill it with Bud Light in case of emergencies such as this.
It took ten minutes, and Laverna had finally sandwiched the phone between her breasts and the wall, standing slowly, easing the phone up, mindful of the cord. The phone clattered on the kitchen counter as she navigated it over the Formica. She was sweating obscenely now, and rested, could barely hear the busy signal over her panting. She dipped down and opened her mouth wide, closed her teeth around the receiver. When she stood, her casts knocked a cookie jar from the counter, and it smashed on the linoleum. It was an owl, a gift from Ginger, and Laverna stared down at the shards. A piece remained perfectly intact, and of course it was an eye, and of course it was staring right at her. Laverna was really high on pills now, but determined, and faint from breathing through her nose, she replaced the slobbery receiver in the cradle. Her casts always had a mind of their own, her arms deadened and unfeeling, and the heavy plaster had knocked into the things thumbtacked around the phone. A Chippendales calendar and a recipe for Ritz mock apple pie lay at her feet, half of the phone tree of the Flood Girls remained on the wall. The other half had been ripped free and was stuck to her sweaty neck.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Laverna said, and collapsed on the sectional. She was exhausted.
The phone rang, and Laverna screamed profanities from the couch. She could do nothing but let it go to the answering machine. Rachel seemed to know that Red Mabel was not around to run interference, and began to deliver a monologue.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t work well with others, especially women. I know you’re in a tight spot, but you’ve got a couple of weeks before the first game. There has to be somebody else who can play right field. Put Bucky in a dress or something.”
Laverna closed her eyes, tried to get the floating feeling back.
“I know that you’re really serious about your team, and I know you’ve worked really hard to keep it going, and I appreciate that, I really do. Tabby said you guys won only three games last year, and one was by default.”
Laverna screamed and twisted her head, tried to bury it in pillows to block out Rachel, but only succeeded in further cementing the phone tree to her neck.
“I want you to win this year. I don’t think you can do that with me on the team. I’m a distraction. Every woman in the county knows about me, and I’m afraid they are going to try to hit me with the ball. I don’t want any more soft tissue damage. You would not believe how easily I bruise. I’m not the type that recovers quickly from a subdural hematoma—I think I have a vitamin deficiency, or maybe I’m a hemophiliac.”