The Robins of Iverhill: Chapter 17 – Apartment

NOTE: the following story, which will be serialized on this blog, was originally written in 1985 as my senior project in creative writing at Hamilton College. 25 years later, it has been updated. New chapters will appear Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. Previous chapters are listed with hyperlinks below.

PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1 – THE NEW MAN
CHAPTER 2 – ROOMMATES
CHAPTER 3 – UNWANTED RETURNS
CHAPTER 4 – OPENING DAY
CHAPTER 5 – RESULTS
CHAPTER 6 – CONFIDENCE
CHAPTER 7 – BUS RIDE
CHAPTER 8 – ARRIVAL IN BARK CREEK
CHAPTER 9 – BRAWL
CHAPTER 10 – BEDSIDE
CHAPTER 11 – DISCOVERY
CHAPTER 12 – RELEASE
CHAPTER 13 – THE CONTRACT
CHAPTER 14 – DOUBLEHEADER
CHAPTER 15 – THE REPLACEMENT
CHAPTER 15 – THE REPLACEMENT
CHAPTER 16 – OUTFIELD THROW

My name is Eugene Raveler.  I’m the center fielder for the Iverhill Robins baseball team, and tonight I feel like I just hit a game-winning grand slam.  Especially when our catcher, Virgil Trunks, gave me the news back in my apartment – the news I waited to hear all season.

“Coach McCarling said that she’d see you at your place as long as you called off the player walkout.”

I thought for a moment.  This must have meant she got tired of Monty Mauntmaurency’s 19th-century baseball skills in our 20th-century league.  And now she wants me to comfort her in her hour of need.  So what do you know. I got lucky after all.

“Trunks, um, don’t you have some practice to attend to?”

He looked at me with a half- knowing stare.

“I thought you and I were going to watch the Sox on television over here tonight.”

“Sorry,” I said to him, “Game called on account of Hunter’s playing cards at his place.  Why not get in on it?  Take some money from some people.  Especially Smokey.  Guy plays cards like he plays baseball – doesn’t say nothing and he keeps on winning.”

“Actually, Gene, I’d rather stay here and work with you and the coach on negotiating a fair settlement.”

“We’ll be negotiating,” I said, handing Trunks his warmup jacket.  “Just her and me.  Does this make sense?”

“Oh it makes sense,” he replied, “I know what you want to do. But remember, Gene, she only wants to talk business. And not the kind of business you’re thinking about.”  With that, he took the coat from my hand.

“I ain’t worried about what you think I’m gonna do.  This time it’s all about Eugene Raveler getting what he wants.  And I’ve waited a long time for it.”

“Yeah, right.  Well, just remember what you want and what you get aren’t always the same thing.”

Trunks put his coat on and left my apartment, not closing the door completely behind him.

This is great.  Jenny McCarling’s coming over to my apartment and we’re gonna be an item again!  Now I’ve got to do some things to get ready for this. Where’s my good shirt? She can’t see me in this old sweaty T-shirt and jeans.  And for that matter, I need a shave.

Running into the bathroom, I pulled a canister of instant shaving cream from the medicine cabinet. I grabbed a razor I thought was unused and started to shave. Should I use after-shave lotion or not? Yeah, what the hell. But should I use the old kind that turned Jenny on before, or maybe that new stuff Treasure bought me? No idea.

Around the corner of my chin – ZING – and a dab of toilet paper to stop the bleeding. One nick. Then, I shaved off the rest of my five o’clock shadow, being careful not to dig into my skin again.

Off came the strip of toilet paper, the cut skin having coagulated a second earlier.  Then, on went the cologne on the new clean-shaven skin.  My face stung, especially where I nicked myself in the chin.

Pouring another goodly amount of cologne into my hand, I splashed the fragrant liquid around my neck.  Off came the T-shirt, I sprayed some anti-perspiration formula into my underarms, and put on what was essentially my last clean button-down shirt.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. I shouted, “Come in,” while trying to button up.

The door opened. And there was Genvieve McCarling, as beautiful as she could possibly be. No denying it – this girl was a knockout, in our out of a baseball uniform.

“Hey Jenny. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” she said rather coolly, but I attributed that to a bad day.

“Want a drink?  I’ve got a couple cans of beer in the fridge.”

“No. I came to talk business – what’s that horrible smell? Did your refrigerator blow a fuse or something?”

No – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, that’s not important. Why are you organizing this player walkout?”

“Player walkout?”

“Trunks gave me your message.”  She opened her purse and pulled out a cigarette.  I offered her my lighter, she waved her hand away, pulled out a book of matches, and lit the cigarette on her own.

“Oh that.  I’m not going to organize a player walkout.  I just wanted you to pay attention to me and what I want to say to you.”

Jenny looked more annoyed.  I sat on the couch, and patted one of the couch cushions.  “Sit down, Jenny.”

She instead sat in a chair at the other end of the living room of my team-issued apartment.

“Look, Jenny, I think we have something to talk about.”

“And what is that?”

“Forget the issues with the team, forget the issues with Mauntmaurency.  The only thing I want to do right now is start seeing you again.”

A second passed.  Jenny then got out of the chair, put her cigarette out in an ashtray on my coffee table, and walked toward the door.

“Jenny, don’t go,” I said.

She turned around.  “What is it with you?  Don’t you understand?  Didn’t you hear me before?  We are not an item!  We were NEVER an item!  Just because I had a crush on you when I was a teenager and you were the Robins’ star player – and we went out one time while I was in college, before I ever took this managerial position – does not mean that I’m your property or anything like that.”

“But Jenny, you gotta believe me, what happened that night was great – but I didn’t have any control over what happened after that.”

“That’s crap and you know it.”

I had no response.  She continued.

“I heard about how you keep things private from my softball teammates at Otswego County Community College.  How you told them about me – and about you and me – and things that are supposed to only be shared between two people who care for each other.  Well, I got fooled.  They told me – and I found out because you did to them what you did to me.  I mean, come on, Gene, how dumb do you think I am?”

“How was I to know they were your friends?”

“Gene, they were my softball teammates in college – should I have painted a ‘THIS IS MY FRIEND’ sign on each one of there?”

“But I thought what we had was more than just a one-time thing.  That’s why I tried to get back to you. I called.  You never called back.”

“And I can’t do that right now, getting in a relationship with the men I’m coaching.  Do you know how hard it is to keep this job?  Wilson hired me for a damn publicity stunt, and the only reason he hasn’t replaced me is that I actually know how the ins and outs of managing a baseball team – even though I’m just a woman, as he would say.  I have to convince every player, every opponent, every umpire and everyone right down to the peanut vendors at Wilson Field that I’m a good manager – not just a good woman manager – and that means that anything I did as a college student with the guy who spent the season hitting home runs and was on his way to the major leagues and happened to be cute and funny and made me feel special – was not supposed to be broadcast throughout the college the next day!!”

This was the easiest part of the night. When I heard a knock at the door again, I knew who was behind that door, I would have shouted, “Go away, I already subscribe to that magazine,” or “Go away, I don’t want to read about the truth that leads to eternal life,” or even “Go away, nobody is here.”

Jenny looked at me.  “Aren’t you going to answer the door?”

I opened the door.  It was Treasure, my current girlfriend and the girl who wanted to be my press agent, writing press releases and sending box scores and newspaper clippings to major league teams.  “Treasure, what are you doing here?” I asked coyly, hoping that Jenny didn’t figure out that Treasure actually lived in my apartment.

“That’s a stupid question to ask me, Gene.  You haven’t forgotten about our four-month anniversary, we were going to go down to the 9N Bar and Grille and celebrate.”

Oh crap.  I forgot about it.  And Treasure didn’t.

Then Treasure saw Jenny McCarling – it was the first time Treasure saw that my manager wore something other than a Robins uniform.

“And what are you doing with HER?” Treasure asked me.

Think, Gene, think – try to come up with some believable excuse.

“I know you,” Treasure said.  “You’re the manager of the Robins.”

“Yes I am.”

“Gene said you two broke up years ago.”

“We DID break up,” Jenny retorted.  “So you’re ‘Treasure.’  Is that you’re real name?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

“What did your parents do? Wait until you were a teenager before they named you?  Or is that a name you gave yourself down at the after-hours club so that men will put more money into your –”

“Now girls, let’s not get testy,” I said, trying to  break up an impending fight.  “Jenny’s here to settle the player walkout, and I just ran a little late, Treasure, see? I did get all dressed up for our anniversary.”

“Well,” Treasure hemmed and hawed, but in the end, I knew I could always count on her to believe whatever I said.  “All right.  But hurry up, honey, you know how crowded the 9N Bar is.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Jenny’s just leaving. Ain’t you, Jenny?” Jenny stared at me like she wanted to kill me.

“Yeah, I’m leaving.  But you haven’t heard the last of this, Gene. Believe me, you haven’t.”

Just then, the door knocked. Once bitten, twice didn’t bother to answer it. But since Jenny was so close to the door, she answered it for me.

In the hallway was a young girl, maybe 20 years old, with a baby in her arms.  “Is Eugene Raveler in here?”

“Just a moment.  Casanova, it’s for you.”

Oh no. Not the girl from Boston.

“Diane, hi,” I squirmed.  “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I know. Do you know how long it took me to find you? You really don’t leave much of a trail when you ran away, but I knew if I could find this Iverhill town you talked about all the time, I would be able to see you.”

“All right, Gene, who is this one?” Treasure demanded.

“Hey, um, this is – just an old friend of mine. Go away, little girl, I gave to the Salvation Army last December. I only put money in the kettle, not in the baby’s mouth.”

“I’ll say you haven’t put anything in your daughter’s mouth.”

Treasure and Jenny looked at each other.

“Yes, Eugene, this is your daughter. This isn’t my daughter, it’s your daughter. You were my first.  And you were my only.  Even though I know I wasn’t your only.  So this is your only daughter.”

With that, she handed the baby, who was wrapped in a threadbare blue blanket, to me. I gave it right back to her, saying, “Listen. You’re supposed to be prepared for these situations. And if you happened to be sleeping with that other guy and you weren’t prepared, don’t come running to me and saying this is my kid.  It doesn’t even look like me.”

Jenny looked at the sleeping baby.  “I don’t know, Gene, she is kind of cute.  And quiet.  Maybe you’re NOT the father.”

Treasure giggled.  “Can I hold the baby, please?”

Diane handed it to Treasure.  I stayed away from the baby like it was a bill from the gas company.

And the door knocked again. Jenny went to the door. “Don’t answer it!” I shouted.

“Why not? This is getting good.”

With that, she opened it, and a redheaded, well-built, curvy woman ran into the room. She wrapped herself around me, smothering me with kisses and hugs.

Treasure, Diane, and Jenny all looked at this girl. I looked at this girl, but I didn’t know her. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” she said, inbetween kisses.

“No,” I said inbetween breaths.

The kisses stopped. She backed away, and it was only then that I recognized Anita. Anita, the girl I met on the last road trip to Dellsburg.  A fine looking girl, but technically a one-night stand. And what was she doing in Iverhill – and what was she doing in this apartment – along with Treasure, Diane, and Jenny?

“Gene, honey, you told me that I meant everything to you.”

“You told her that?” Treasure asked.

“He told me that,” Diane said.

“He tells everybody that,” finished Jenny.

What did I do to deserve this?

And the door knocked again. Now who else could it be?

“Don’t anybody get the door this time!  I’ll get it!!”

I gripped the doorknob, hoping there wasn’t a fifth girl behind it, ready to remind me that she also existed. The door opened.

It was Monty Mauntmaurency.

“Monty!! Christ, of all the people – what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see the manager’s wife.  I wanted to talk to her about getting off of suspension, because I know the team could use me.”

At that point, Anita – she’s the girl from Dellsburg – spoke up. “You’re Monty Mauntmaurency?”

“Sure and it’s me.”

“Oooh.  I saw you play a few weeks ago, you’re a talented ballplayer.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“Could you give me your autograph?”

Monty smiled.  “Where’s a piece of paper around this home, Gene?”

“No,” Anita said.  “Sign right here – on my blouse.” She pointed to a space of white fabric just below the collar of her blouse.

“All I have is a fountain pen, the autograph might wash away if you clean the blouse.”

Oh for God’s sakes.  “Monty, do me a favor, okay?” I pleaded.  “Get lost.  And take about two or three of these ladies with you.  Okay?”

“Sorry Gene, but after today’s game I’ve been suspended for five games.  So I don’t have to do anything for the next few days, so I thought I could spend some time with you.”

Something I heard just clicked. I turned to Jenny.  “You threw Monty off the team?”

“That potato thing.  He’s on suspension again.”

“That’s fantastic!!” I shouted.

I hardly remember what happened next, but most of it was a blur.

While Jenny was standing next to the couch, I started running forward toward her, my arms outstretched, a big eee-yaahh on my lips, in anticipation of her finally realizing what I had hoped for all this time – that she would have chosen me over this goof Monty Mauntmaurency. As I came closer to Jenny, my lips began to pucker, waiting for that great sweet kiss of hers.

At the instant Jenny and I connected, she grabbed the front of my shirt and jammed her knee inbetween my legs, her body flipping backwards over the arm of the couch, dragging me along with her in a judo flip.

I landed back-first on the couch, Jenny flipping over me like a Flying Wallenda. She landed feet-first at the other end of the couch, staring straight down at me.

Next thing I knew, Treasure had handed Diane’s baby to Monty, and then started to beat me in the head with her purse.  Anita and Diane also started using their pocketbooks as weapons, swinging them at me while I was defenseless on the couch.  One of them started ripping at my pants leg, tearing the fabric and digging her nails into my leg like a cat scratches furniture.

By now, my little face had taken a beating. I covered it with my hands, but Treasure then began to beat me in the chest. We’re not talking the kind of beating that someone pretends to like.  This is the pain of four different women finding out the man they’re supposed to be true to wasn’t being true to them.

In the distance, I heard a baby laughing. It was Diane’s kid, bouncing on Monty’s knee, watching this whole beatdown and giggling and cooing like she was watching an outtake from a Three Stooges film.  “Stop laughing, you filthy brat!” I shouted.

Bad choice of words.  That only increased the pounding of purses and screams and nails and pocketbooks.

I got up from the couch, dodged another swinging pocketbook, and ran for the door.  At this point, the safest place for me is anywhere but my apartment.

---

A conversation.

“Is this the Iverhill Robins front office?”

“Yes sir, it is.  I’m Mrs. McDaniel, office administrator, may I help you?”

“I’m looking for this gentleman, he calls himself Montgomery Mauntmaurency.”

“Oh yes, he’s one of our players.”

“Is your director of player personnel available?”

“That would be our manager, Genvieve McCarling.  Would you like to set up an appointment to meet with her?  She’s very busy. So you’ll need an appointment.”

“That would be nice.  I’ll be in town for a few days.  Here’s my card.”

“Thank you, Mr. – Norton?”

“Yes, my dear.  Samuel Taylor Norton.  It’s extremely important that I speak with your coach McCarling about Mr. Mauntmaurency.  I’ve been looking for him for some time now.  I need to find him.  May I borrow your pen for a second?”

“Are you a scout?”

“A scout? Well – yes, yes, of course, I am a scout.”

“Well, that’s nice.  Here’s a pen.”

“Thank you.  This is my phone number at my hotel.  Please have your coach call me at this number.  Once again, please make sure she calls me.”