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Rainee > Fiction > Bottom of the Ninth
"You've never even thought about it?"
"Nope." Chris shrugged slightly, eyes only moving from the television long enough to shoot her a cursory glance. "I'm just not a marrying kind of guy. Trust me."
Erin let the conversation drop for a moment, eyes grazing across the room uncomfortably. She loved him -- she was more than willing to admit that to herself. And he claimed to love her. But sometimes she wasn't sure. As long as they'd been together, she couldn't find a reason not to make it permanent.
And really, neither could he. He'd never been able to explain to her what it was about marriage that he couldn't fathom entering into. All it really was, at least to her, was legal affirmation of something they both knew. Love. Permanence. Was it so complicated? She tried her best not to be suspicious of his reluctance, but sometimes it was hard. He'd been through rocky breakups in the past, and every girl had the same complaint -- instability, insecurity. He was a wild child, and none of them could tame him.
Erin hadn't tried to tame him. She'd matched him. He was distracted from his own antics, and her from hers, each by trying to keep up with the other. It was a frantic cat-and-mouse game of a relationship, and just who was playing which role wasn't always clear. The adrenaline had them both addicted.
Then, after the first few months, the thrill wore off; and they both realized that something went deeper than the manic humor that had drawn them together in the first place. They both had such reputations for hilarity that anything less than giggles and sunshine was categorized as a foul mood. The one thing both of them needed was someone to slow down with, and in each other they'd finally found it -- kindred spirits, in more ways than one.
"It's not that I don't ever want to get married," Chris commented, jerking Erin abruptly back to reality. "It's just... I'm not ready right now. I guess I take longer than most guys to get that far into it." He paused a moment, taking a swallow from his drink. "And I guess that's too long for most girls."
It wasn't too long for her. There was no 'too long'; she knew that. She'd wait as long as he needed. But it might drive her crazy in the process.
She leaned back on the other side of the sofa, trying to read his feelings. "How long?" she finally made herself ask. "When?"
"When..." His eyes moved back to the screen, watching tiny figures run around in circles. Someone threw something, someone else hit it. He looked back at her over the expanse of the sofa.
"When your Cubbies win the Series. Promise."
~
Her twenty-first birthday was enough to make Erin a bit zany. But the trademark Chicago wind cutting through Wrigley Field whipped her energy to a peak; and the event that had drawn her out in it only made it worse.
It was the bottom of the ninth. Game seven. Two outs. Tied at three runs. Nobody on base.
This was it. Almost a century in the making, twenty-one years to the day in the waiting, and it was about to happen. "Who's up?" she shouted into the wind, turning to face Chris.
He looked down at the scorecard, but offered her no response but a wide grin and a jerk of his head towards the field.
Erin frowned, squinting out towards home plate. She could actually see the cheer rippling through the crowd near the field. A vague realization flashed through her brain, but before she could recognize it, the booming voice of the announcer cut into her mind.
"Coming to bat for the Cubs... number 21..."
Her grin widened as the stands went crazy. Beautiful.
"...right fielder Sammy Sosa..."
Erin let out a joyous whoop, pumping her fist in the air, jumping up and down a few times, and spinning in a circle.
Chris just smiled.
Time seemed to drag far below its normal pace as Sammy made his way to the plate. Erin tore her eyes from the action to look over at Chris. He was oddly somber considering the event that was about to take place, leaning back in his seat and surveying the game as though it were a painting.
"Get your ass up!" Erin grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him to his feet. Chris was shocked out of his reverie, laughing a bit, but returning to a quiet smile as he watched her scream.
The windup took an hour and the pitch another, an eerie silence falling over the stadium. The ball cut sharply through the autumn air before the bat swung sharply around, the metallic crack shattering the breathless anticipation.
"Oh my God!..."
The perfect hit. The celebratory screams went up from the crowd before it even left the infield. It was high and long, arching beyond anything the defense could dream of catching. Sammy was trotting the bases and laughing already.
Erin stood, mouth hanging open, the same insane grin on her face as had been for the entire game. She couldn't speak, scream, breathe, even if she'd wanted to. She was jarred awake by a hand clasping her wrist tightly and a soft voice cutting like a knife through the cold air and the cacophony around her. "Erin..."
Her head jerked to her left. His expression was still serious; his eyes brighter and clearer than she'd ever seen them, such a dark brown in contrast to his face that they appeared black.
"...I love you."
The ball dropped over the fence.
Erin burst into laughter, all but diving into Chris's arms. Tears were streaming down her face even as she laughed; the sheer impossibility of the situtation reflected in the mad rush of emotion reverberating through the stands.
Chris grinned, kissing her on the forehead. "Happy birthday, baby."
~
When she finally regained her perception of reality, she was in the parking lot, Chris gently guiding her towards his car. They'd had to park almost a mile from the stadium entrance, and most everyone else had left already, so the lot was all but empty when they reached the Cruiser.
Chris pulled a cooler out of the backseat of the car, sitting on the car hood to open it. He offered Erin a well-iced can of root beer and a hand up onto the hood. She accepted both gratefully, scooting close to him and grinning girlishly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They sat for a long while, the world around them quiet but for the distant buzz of Chicago traffic, sipping their drinks and watching the stars.
Chris finally broke the silence, looking over at Erin with a slight smile. "You happy?"
Erin took a deep breath of the biting cold. "Absolutely ecstatic."
He grinned. "Good." The quiet settled for another few minutes until he spoke again. "I'm happy too."
"Yeah?" She glanced over at him. "Didn't think you were a big Cubbies fan."
Chris rested his head on Erin's shoulder. "No. But I'm happy to see you so happy." He fidgeted a little bit, working something out of his coat pocket. "...and I'm happy I finally get to give you this." He slid a small jewelry store box into her hand.
Erin's eyes lit up, laughing slightly. "Ohhhh. Sweet thing." She patted his cheek gently and opened the box, expecting some silly piece of Cubs paraphernalia.
A gasp of icy air stung her throat as her eyebrows shot up.
The light of a nearby streetlight and the moon glinted off the diamond, set in a silver band with amethyst hearts on either side. Erin stammered a moment before turning to face Chris. She started to speak, but he rested a finger on her lips, pulling her into a deep, sweet, potent kiss.
For the second time that night, time stopped. He finally pulled away, fingers tracing along her jawline. "You asked me when, Erin, and I told you," he whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek again. "And I don't go back on my word." He examined the ring with her, guiding her fingers over it to the tiny hearts on the sides of the larger stones. "Purple embedded in silver... because you'll always be embedded in me."
Erin's eyes dropped, unable to look at him. "I... I don't know what to say..."
Chris leaned closer again, one hand sliding through her hair, his lips and voice gently caressing her ear. "All I need to hear is one word."
One word. The word she had been dying to say to him for so long. The answer to the question she had been so scared he would never ask. "Yes," she murmured, fingers still shaking around the box. She finally managed to raise her eyes to his, not even attempting to hide the tears welling in them. "Yes."
His expression didn't change, but a familiar exuberant fire lit in his eyes. His hands moved to hers, taking the ring from its box and slipping it on her finger -- or attempting to. He could only push it as far up as her knuckle.
They both laughed, the tension of the moment finally broken. Erin fell over into Chris's arms, sighing blissfully. His small frame usually made their embraces awkward, but tonight he felt ten feet tall as she sank into his arms. An impish grin slowly spread across his face as he wrapped her close.
She stayed there next to him for a long moment, smiling softly as she sat back up.
"A toast," Chris announced, raising his root beer. "To the 2001 World Champion Chicago Cubs..."
Erin leaned on his shoulder, tapping her can against his. "And to us."
Chris smiled softly, leaning over to kiss her again. "And to us."