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It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The air was crisp and the sky was clear. It was the perfect day for a game of baseball. And, to say the least, Mindy Lahiri was underwhelmed. In fact, she hated everything about it.
“Why do we have to do this again?” Mindy whined, dragging her feet, as she and her husband began to walk towards the field.
“Because we’re on the team,” he grunted in response.
Danny was buried under the weight of their athletic bags and Mindy’s “absolutely necessary” purses, snack pouches, and garment bag. The garment bag was reportedly essential so that Mindy could change out of her “hideous” uniform the moment that the umpire announced the game’s ending. Mindy, on the other hand, carried nothing but her phone, holding it above her head as if to fashion it into a satellite that would will her phone into receiving better reception. She tried this tactic every weekend, and every weekend she had no success.
Mindy and Danny approached the apex of a hill and their destination, their team’s dugout, came into full view. Her pace became glacial and she groaned. “Why are we on the team?”
Danny slung his assortments of bags from one shoulder and another, easing the burden of the weight on his body. “Well, Min, you’re the one who wanted to send Leo to the fancy prep school that requires parents dedicate at least 100 hours to the school community.”
“The Essex School is the most exclusive school in all of Manhattan, Danny! Only 1% of applicants are accepted! 1%! And I love exclusive things! You know I love exclusive things.”
"Yeah, I know you love exclusive things,” Danny said. “Remember when I bought you that nice sweater for your half birthday and you refused to wear because it didn't cost at least 500 dollars?"
"Okay, first of all, you're exaggerating," Mindy rolled her eyes. "I didn't simply reject it because it didn't cost enough money, I rejected it because it made me look like a beet and it was so obviously a cheap knockoff with a superimposed designer label on the tag. You were duped. Stop writing this revisionist history."
"It was 400 dollars and there was no refund. That feels like a fancy designer policy to-"
"You know what? I can't hear you complain about the damn sweater again. We have to play baseball, it's my turn to complain. Wait your turn." Mindy swatted away a mosquito. "I still don't know why you signed us up for this stupid team."
As they arrived at the already bustling dugout, Danny unceremoniously dumped the bags down onto the rickety metal bench.
“Well, it was this or organizing a PTA fundraiser.”
Mindy groaned and crossed her arms across her chest, “Ugh! Blow my brains out, I hate charity work.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Danny pulled Mindy aside, hoping that Mindy’s weekly tantrum would fall on deaf ears. “You already got half of the PTA to turn against us when you told Christy McLean to jump off a bridge last week when she asked you help pass out orange slices.”
“You know who thought it was hilarious? Sara Lechmere." Mindy countered, brushing his hand off her shoulder. “And she is the PTA President, not like that dumb skank Christy McLean who is only the Vice President. We’re fine. We have friends in high places.”
"Oh yeah? Well, then why do I keep getting the stink eye from all the moms when I'm picking up Leo in the afternoon?" Danny asked. "Chelsea Martinez's mom and I used to exchange recipes. You said that? And now she's icing me out. She's icing me out, Min."
"Okay, first of all, her name is Cherie, Danny. If you want to get in with the PTA moms, a good start would be to learn their names," Mindy informed him condescendingly. "And, second of all, if you bothered to read America's #1 Tabloid, Essex Moms Weekly, you'd have known Cherie and Christy have an alliance. In fact, you should be reading Essex Moms Weekly anyways considering that your wife is the Editor in Chief. I hate to burst your bubble, but this was a completely avoidable problem and seems like it's totally your fault. That's what you get for not supporting your super hot wife."
"My fault?" Danny wheezed. "I hate to burst your bubble, Lahiri, but no one reads Essex Moms Weekly. It's garbage."
"How dare you! Take it back, Castellano."
"Nope. I won't apologize for the truth. Lying is a sin."
"I'm sure being mean to your wife is a sin too," Mindy spat.
A whistle blew behind them to signal the top of the first inning. Danny smirked.
"I gotta go, babe. I'm first at bat.” With that, he grabbed his bat and sauntered off.
"That's so unfair!" Mindy called out after him. He'd be receiving one hell of a subtweet. If she could manage to get any service that is.
---
There was a time in her life where Mindy Lahiri might have genuinely enjoyed Saturday mornings, might have even mourned their ending if hard pressed. In fact, it was safe to say that she did thoroughly mourn for what her Saturday mornings had once been. She missed the slow and sleepy early morning sex she once had with Danny, arching her back in the semi saturated hues of dawn as her fingers chased the rising sun across the chiseled planes of his back. She missed falling back to sleep afterward and waking up the scent of Danny’s pancakes. And bacon, copious amounts of bacon. She missed the Saturdays where she’d tell Danny that she was taking Leo to the library and she'd wink at her son over the shoulder of his father’s embrace as they conspired to go to the movies instead. She missed the Saturdays where Danny caught onto their little game and was waiting outside of the Cineplex when they arrived. Mindy’s purse was always stuffed full of candy and Leo’s eyes never failed to bug out in surprised glee and bewilderment every time his father deciphered their perhaps not so secret plot.
She missed the rare Saturdays where they did go to the library. Even though the presence of books alone should have been enough to disgust Mindy, scrolling through the outdated DVD section for films to torture Danny with provided her with enough entertainment for all of ten minutes before her eyes wandered to her phone and her feet wandered back to the children’s section. And books may be boring and reading might be even more so, but listening to Danny read from the armchair with their son perched on his lap was the most enthralling sound Mindy had ever heard. She’d often sit and watch as Danny thumbed through book after book with patience and enthusiasm. He still read with voices after all this time. It made Mindy smile. And it seemed to make all the other children in the library smile too because it often happened that when Danny sat down to read, an eager audience was bound to follow. What would start with Mindy and Leo would end with a gaggle of toddlers babbling incoherent questions at Danny’s feet that he tried his best to answer. Mindy often thought she fell in love with all over again in those moments as they shared secret smiles over the excited shrieks of giggled terror at the ominously lurking presence of the big bad wolf who stomped across the glossy illustrated pages that Danny would flip. And sometimes, just sometimes, he’d ask her to read too, her voice lilting higher than the heavens as her husband wickedly begged her to play the part of the old crone or the haggard witch and she couldn’t quite say no when there were giddy children to please. He’d pay for it later and she had all Saturday afternoon to orchestrate his repentance.
Most of all, she missed the Saturdays where they did nothing at all. Mindy loved to talk and it took her getting married to remember how much of falling in love happened in the silence where the only sound was that of two heartbeats choreographing a new and better dance to the same, steady rhythm. She missed the moments when their hands brushed as they simultaneously and wordlessly reached out to pass one another a dish at the breakfast table. She missed when he’d nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck and his arms would squeeze her a little tighter before he emerged from their cocoon of blankets to go on his morning run. Or how when Mindy spent the morning answering stockpiled work emails all Danny needed to do was read the delicate furrow of her brow to disappear swiftly and return with just the right candy from her secret stash he wasn’t supposed to know about to ease her stress. She missed knowing him too. She could always tell just from the way that his grip slightly tightened on the morning newspaper that he needed a refill on his coffee. Or how when he spent the morning reading through medical journals that he’d bite his lip before a slight smile appeared on his face when he found something within the text that excited him. She missed that small smile that he thought no one ever saw. Or how when his fingers began to twitch, she’d know to burrow into his arms.
She missed him. She missed Leo. She missed it all. But baseball brought an end to all of that. Now her Saturdays began with her mother in law bustling into their home at 6 AM, despite the fact that Mindy and Danny didn’t have to leave the house until 9 AM. No more languid sex, no more silence, no more secret smiles with her boys; instead, Mindy was inundated with polyester uniforms, humid fields, and the begrudging company of PTA moms she couldn’t stand. And her phone barely worked, she couldn’t even look at celebrity Instagrams to quell her boredom, but she'd be damned if she didn’t try every week. She supposed it could be worse, she could actually have to play every week. But for now, she was just an alternate and able to sit that on the bench and gaze upon the sole perk of the entire outing, Danny’s ass in his uniform pants.
It was when her misery was supposed to be almost over that the commotion began. There were only minutes left in the final inning and Mindy was engrossed in a celebrity gossip article that had finally loaded after taking approximately fifty minutes to do so. Was it about Jennifer Lawrence's cleavage? Taylor Swift's cats? She could barely remember. Turns out, it was about neither. It was a scandalous video of Justin Bieber and Mindy actually preferred it that way. Even though the video wouldn't load on her phone, it was always nice to have something to post about in the PTA listserv in the most doomsday manner possible. It might seem banal, but it was one of her favorite ways to cause trouble. She could already imagine the commotion she could anonymously stir up asking if it was it morally okay to still let their children listen to Justin Bieber's music after this newest blemish on his tarnished reputation. And should they broach the idea of a ban on his music with the administration? It took everything in her not to laugh at the frenzied and hyperbolic responses she was bound to receive within mere minutes of posting. Mindy Lahiri was ready to watch the world burn, gleefully.
Just as she was about to compose a draft in her notes section, she heard a blood-curdling yelp and a sickening snap from the field and Mindy's head swiveled up immediately to assess the damage. And, perhaps it made Mindy a bad doctor, but for a moment when she saw Christy McLean cowering in a fetal position between third and home base, she wanted to laugh. But she didn't. Instead, she migrated towards the fence and watched as Danny assessed the situation on the field. Christy's ankle was broken, Mindy could tell as much from here, but she didn't know what that would mean for the game. Did they have to keep playing? Could they all leave? If that was the case, she'd never bad mouth Christy McLean again, she might even help her pass out her damn orange slices. No, she wouldn't, and she knew she wouldn't, but she liked to pretend she might entertain the idea.
She saw Danny take a step back as Christy's husband, Eric, escorted his hobbling wife off the field. But no one else on the field made a move towards the dugout, that is, besides Danny. Mindy mouthed her confusion to him and he acknowledged her bewildered look from afar as he approached.
"Is it broken?" Mindy asked as soon as he was in earshot even though she could already assume the answer.
"Yeah," Danny said. "It doesn't look good."
"What happens now?"
Danny grimaced. "Min, we need you come to play."
"What?" Mindy's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "No. I am an alternate. The whole point is that I don't play."
"And now we're out of regular players and we need someone to take Christy's place," Danny explained, wiping the sweat from his brow. "And that's why we have alternate players. That means you're up. It's your entire job description."
Mindy huffed. "This is not what we agreed on. This is not part of the deal. The deal is that you play baseball and I get to watch. And buddy, frankly, those rules are the only thing keeping us from becoming the next victims of a murder-suicide because I will not sweat in fabric that doesn't breathe well. I simply refuse to."
"Mindy, please." Danny moaned. "Who cares about the outfit? All you have to do is swing the bat about three times? How much could you possibly sweat from that?"
"Judging by you?" Mindy laughed. "I'd guess enough sweat to fill the Pacific Ocean maybe."
"Haha, I'm sweaty I get it. Can you just please do this, Min? Maybe you'll be really good at it!" Danny pleaded. "And maybe you'll hit a home run and I could be like, 'Look at that! That's my wife! We won! I won!'"
"Danny, if you screamed that I think people would be very confused," Mindy mused, smiling slyly. "They'd be like, "Duh Castellano, your wife has the best ass and ginormous cans that are out of this world. She agreed to marry your lame ass? You’re winning every day.'"
Danny sighed. “What will it take to make you shut up and swing the bat?”
Mindy smirked. “Well, Danny, I am a very in-demand talent. There are conditions."
Danny massaged his temples with his fingers. "Okay, what are they?"
"You have to treat me like a celebrity," Mindy started.
"Done." Danny replied, "I already have to do that. You wrote it into our vows."
"And," Mindy continued, "We have to watch four episodes of The Bachelorette. And you can't complain."
Danny took a deep breath. "Whatever. Fine. Deal."
Mindy gasped in excitement, making a point to shove Danny's shoulder to emphasize her glee.
"Oh my god! You didn't even argue!" She exclaimed, "You love it! You love The Bachelorette."
Danny looked down, his voice feigning disbelief. "What? No, I don't!"
"Admit it, Castellano," Mindy gloated, poking his sides with her fingertips and making him squirm. "Admit you like it."
"It's fine." Danny looked to the sky. "It's a dumb show though. If you wanna find true love you don't act childish and go on television, you ask your Ma to set you up with someone at church like an adult."
Mindy beamed. She knew she'd won. She knew she had him. If only he'd meet her eyes. She got up her tiptoes and held his chin in a firm grip, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Admit that you just want Leanne to find love!"
Danny huffed. "What did you want me to say? She’s a nice lady, I think she deserves a nice guy."
"Haha! I knew you’d loved it!" Mindy jumped up giddily, clasping her hands together and rubbing her palms together as if she was concocting, or celebrating the victory of, an evil plan. She released him from her hold as she did so and he stumbled a little at the jolt of her sudden movement and the volume of her exclamation.
Danny rolled his eyes at her antics, but he figured he'd indulge her just a little. There was something about watching Mindy's whole body be possessed by joy or rage over whatever most would consider a pedestrian matter or an inconsequential opinion that made him fall in love with her all over again. It reminded of him so long ago, when he'd fallen for her the first time. When it was just her and him, not even yet them, but already so much a team that their bodies seemed to move together even though their minds never quite did. When her body jolted to life, so suddenly did his life become animated as well. His body sort of just managed to tag along with him. If anything, maybe he wasn't simply indulging her, maybe he was indulging himself. He loved her, and he loved the man she made him.
Danny continued, in pursuit of keeping the insatiable glint of glee twinkling in his wife's eyes. "I just hope she realizes he doesn't need a boy, but that he needs a man. That Jason guy? What a loser. Harvey though, Harvey's a good man, a man's man. And he actually listened when she told him about how she wanted to be proposed to with her fam-"
Mindy's mouth dropped open once again. "Oh my God, Danny! I knew you listened! I knew you had opinions on it! I mean your opinions are wrong, but I knew you had them!"
"I've only shared one opinion with you!" Danny countered. "That I know you agree with."
"Are you insinuating that you have more opinions?" Mindy inched closer to her husband, weaving her arms around his neck. "I swear you'll never have to talk to dirty to me again, just knowing that my rugged and sexy husband is such a romantic softie is a turn on enough."
"Just take the bat, Lahiri," Danny demanded, but he didn't make any moves to push her to the field. In fact, he did quite the opposite. His arms wrapped around her waist and their lips joined in an indulgent kiss. He felt Mindy's hands ghost down the length of his back, and just when he thought she'd rest her hands on his ass, she instead lunged forward slightly and broke their kiss. From behind her back, she had procured a baseball bat from the equipment rack. She winked at him and sauntered away slowly to home plate.
---
Danny Castellano watched his wife's at bat with apprehension from the sidelines. The count was two strikes and one ball. The ball wasn't so much a result of Mindy's keen eye but instead was born of a moment where, at the time of the pitch, Mindy had been too busy bemoaning to the catcher that dirt was gathering on her shoes to swing. The pitch's unlawful height and the catcher's distracted fumbling reach for the ball qualified it as a ball, a distinction Mindy neither knew nor cared to learn about. For her, all it signified is that she had to continue to stand on this stupid pile of dirt. Danny knew by the frown consuming her face and her agitated squirming that neither she nor her shoes could take this much longer. Danny grimaced as he watched the pitcher assume his stance and Mindy haughtily gripped the bat and assumed a slouching, but acceptable, batting position. The ball soared toward Mindy and it collided with her bat. Danny's posture shifted from tense to somehow even tenser as he watched the ball fly over the fence. Danny's breath was shallow and Mindy stood on home plate, stunned. She'd hit a home run. The game was over.
"Oh my God," he murmured in amazement.
Mindy whipped around to face his husband, a huge grin plastered across her face.
"Danny, I hit the ball!" She yelled, pointing her hand, and thus the bat with it, towards the direction of the fence.
Danny cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back to her. "I saw, babe!"
Mindy continued to stand at home plate. And while Danny was perplexed by her lack of motion, he could tell the rest of team was becoming restless, the bases had already been unloaded as she stood and marveled at her heroic feat. If Mindy noticed the discomfort of both her team and the other team, she didn't show it. In fact, she slid her phone out of her pocket and started typing feverishly.
"Danny, I need to tell everyone about this! I need to tell Morgan! I need to tell Peter! I need to tell Jeremy even! And, oh my god, Leo won't believe this!" She exclaimed, barely taking a second to breathe. "Do you think I should just post about it on Facebook later? Or tweet about it now? Ugh, I wish Vine wasn't dead so I could Vine it. Do you think could maybe take a vid-?"
"Mindy, babe," Danny said, cutting off her tirade of jubilation. He felt awful doing so, knowing how quickly her smile would be replaced by a frown, how her speech would slow, and how the tenor of her voice would lower. "You still have to run the bases!"
“What?” Mindy looked at Danny shell-shocked. Her hands swung to her hips, only slightly restricted by the bat precariously balancing in her arms. “I have to run? Why? Isn't the game over?”
"It's the principle of the thing," Danny offered.
“I can’t run in these shoes, bud. No way. It’s not happening.” She gesticulated wildly, flinging the bat around with her spastic hands as she did.
Danny winced at his wife as she flailed the bat carelessly through the air and shouted to her again. He knew he needed to create an incentive to get her moving.
"Mindy," he started.
"Daniel," she countered.
"You're at the Oscars," he continued.
"Oh, not this again!" Mindy whined. "Come on, Danny. You don't expect this old trick to work, do you? I'm not falling for it!"
"Will you let me finish?" Danny asked.
Mindy threw up her hands in acquiescence. "Please continue."
"You're at the Oscars. You're walking the Red Carpet. You look stunning."
"Obviously," Mindy interjected.
"Obviously," Danny agreed. "Except there's a little problem. You're wearing the exact same dress as Oprah Winfrey. And now they're going to publish a whole magazine article on who wore it better and the only way to ensure they choose you, the rightful winner, is that you run these bases right now? Are you with me, Lahiri?"
"Danny, this is silly" Mindy laughed. "Oprah Winfrey's style is totally different from mine. There'd be no way we'd wear the same dress. And there'd be no way she'd wear my dress better. I'm the obvious winner."
"I know that," Danny said. "And you know that. But does Middle America know that? Do the editors of Vogue know that? So what are you gonna do, Lahiri? Are you with me?"
"Fine," Mindy huffed, flinging the bat to the ground. "I'll run the bases."
Mindy began to run around the bases. Her arms were outstretched and her feet width shoulder width apart. She wasn't running so much as walking somewhat akin to a zombie.
"What the hell are you doing?" Danny asked.
"I told you," Mindy wheezed, her limbs stretching in every direction. "I am not sweating in non-breathable material!"
It took her a minute, and as they waited for her to round the corner, Danny and the rest of the team rushed onto the field to meet her. When she stumbled past home plate, officially winning the game, she lunged into Danny's waiting arms and he lifted her slightly off the ground. Only the tips of her toes brushed the dust of the baseball diamond. He brought their lips together in a celebratory kiss.
"Danny, I did it! Me! I did it!" Mindy squealed. "I am the hero of the day! Take that Christy McLean!"
"Yes, you did. I knew you could do it!" He smiled, one hand securely fastened around her waist and the other hand running through her hair. "But you might not want to say that last part out loud since Christy's in the back of an ambulance right now."
"Right," Mindy nodded thoughtfully. "Right. You're so right."
Danny put her back down the ground. His hands moved from the edges of her windblown hair to her cheeks. He caressed her cheeks as he leaned in, and when their lips met and their tongues collided, his hands moved southwards to find purchase on her ass. Mindy giggled softly at the touch, pulling away, and hiding behind a curtain of her hair to see if their intimate moment had been observed. The crowd that was once around them had quickly dispersed and no one was paying them any mind. Most of their fellow parents were packing up their coolers, folding their lawn chairs, or had already begun the hike back to the parking lot. Mindy turned her eyes back to Danny. They were wide and sparkling with a mischievous glint despite the slight squint they possessed as the mid-morning sun swept across her features.
"Oh, Danny Castellano, getting dirty in public?" Mindy teased, playing with the fringes of his hair that were matted down on the nape of his neck by sweat. "And not just because you’re disgustingly sweaty?"
Danny shrugged. “Slapping asses is a baseball thing."
"Oh really?" Mindy hummed. She pulled their bodies closer together, every inch of her pressed against every inch of him. "I think I like baseball now, Danny. I'm like super good at it."
Danny cocked his eyebrow. "So you won’t complain before next week’s game?"
Mindy laughed. “Oh, I’m definitely going to complain before next weekend’s game.”
Danny laughed lightly and shook his head. She was impossible, utterly impossible, and she could never let him win, not for an instant. But everything about being with her made him a winner.