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“Ready kiddo?” Ed looks down at Alma as their train approaches the stadium. She’d been staring wide-eyed out the train window, but her eyes snap up to look at Ed’s when she hears his voice. She nods and reaches for his outstretched hand. At eight she doesn’t need to be holding hands with adults, but Ed’ll be damned if he loses her in a crowd during their first ever outing together without Stede. He won’t be letting her out of his sight the whole day.
It had actually been Stede’s idea for Ed to take Alma to a baseball game, just the two of them. Ed loves baseball, has loved it ever since he first wandered to the ballpark on a whim when he moved to the States fifteen years ago, and he had been so excited to take Stede and the kids to their very first game this summer as an anniversary present. He had been planning the outing for weeks, trying not to call it what it was: a family outing, with this sweet little family he had miraculously found himself a member of. He wanted it to be perfect for the kids and he felt an enormous responsibility to ensure it was.
The day itself had partially lived up to the expectations he had set for himself. Stede and Louis couldn’t get into the game no matter how hard Ed tried to engage them with it, preferring to spend the afternoon distracted by everything but the baseball - watching the seagulls hovering over the stadium, pointing out fans sporting increasingly ridiculous outfits, giggling as they split a bag of cotton candy. Alma, though - Alma was watching the field from the moment they found their seats. After the umpire called the first out of the game, she leaned over to Ed and whispered, “Why’d he do that?” After a moment, Ed realized she was asking about the umpire’s hand signals, so he explained that aspect of game play. She kept asking questions and Ed kept answering them, unable to keep a smile off his face as he watched her shout “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” with an amount of enthusiasm that only an eight-year old could muster during the seventh-inning stretch.
“She loved it Ed,” Stede told him the following week when Ed mentioned having two tickets to next Sunday’s game and asked if Stede wanted to come with him. “She apparently hasn’t stopped telling Mary and Doug every single rule of the game you told her. You should take her.”
Ed felt his heart swell four sizes bigger, but anxiety crawled through his stomach. Was Stede suggesting Ed spend time with his child, alone? Ed wanted that so badly but didn’t think he was ready. Didn’t know Stede thought he was ready. “You sure, mate?” He looked across the kitchen at Stede, who was at the sink finishing up the dinner dishes. “I mean, I’d fuckin’ love to, just… y’ know…”
Stede turned off the sink and turned towards Ed as he dried his hands. He was smiling and gestured for Ed to continue.
“... just wouldn’t want to overstep, man,” he grumbled. “She’s your daughter.”
Stede walked over to Ed and took his face in his hands. “Edward,” he began. “I love you, and I love her, and I would love for two of my loves to spend the day together doing something that they love.” He let go of Ed’s face and Ed just had to kiss him about that, because how could he not? “Besides,” he continued. “Love, I am so sorry if this is disappointing to you, but I really don’t care for baseball.”
So now Ed is holding Alma’s little hand as they make their way through the crowd outside the stadium towards the correct entry gate.
“You remember where our seats are?” Ed asks Alma.
“Section 121, row 9!” Alma beams and nods as she repeats the information for the dozenth time today. Ed had made her memorize the location of their seats so that, if they did get separated, she could ask an usher to help her find their section and Ed would meet her at their seats. It was just a precautionary backup, though, because - and he cannot emphasize this enough - he will. not. lose. Stede’s. kid.
“Good job.” He smiles at her as they approach the entrance. They go through security and get their tickets scanned, and then make their way to a little table where the team was giving out tiny stuffed bears with the team’s logo on them to kids. Ed kept this part of the day a surprise for Alma, and by the look on her face as they approach, he figures it paid off.
“Does every kid get a bear?!” She whips around to look at Ed. “Do I get a bear?!”
“Sure do,” he tells her, and winks. They reach the table and an employee holds out a bear for her to take. She accepts it with reverence, whispering thank you to the employee before taking Ed’s hand again to make their way to their section. She holds the bear tightly in her other hand and talks the whole way about what she wants to name it, weighing the pros and cons of the name Ned.
Before finding their seats, he steers them to a stall and buys them each a hot dog, plus a lemonade for Alma and a beer for himself. Ed lets out a breath once they settle in their seats, finally feeling able to relax. It’s a gorgeous day at the ballpark and he remembers how much he loves it here. The sun beats down from directly overhead and he feels it warming the tops of his thighs as a breeze carries the smell of barbeque from inside the concourse towards his nose. He closes his eyes and turns his face towards the sun.
“Ed?” He turns to face Alma, who’s tugging on his sleeve and pointing towards the field. “The game is starting!”
They watch the first inning, and the second, and Ed’s having fun. The game is good, and he and Alma jump from their seats to shout and cheer as their team scores one run, then two. As they sit back down, he looks away from the field and sees Alma grinning ear to ear.
“Wow, two runs already!”
Ed grins back. “You must be good luck, kid,” he says, and tips his hat at her. She giggles, but turns her attention back to the game as the opposing team comes up to bat.
He notices she remembers everything he told her about baseball from the last game: she claps each time the umpire calls a strike or an out and she seems to be following the scoring, so he decides to start telling her more. He tells her about the players as they come up to bat, about which teams they used to play for and what their strengths are. He tells her about the history of the ballpark, why it was built and how. She takes it all in and asks more questions of her own, all the while cheering and clapping as she watches the game. When the ump makes a bad call, Ed catches a fuck halfway on its way out his mouth and mutters “fuuuuhhhdge” and he swears he hears Alma quietly say “that totally should have been a strike” to Ned the bear.
The next couple of innings are less eventful, and as they lapse into comfortable silence, Ed marvels at how easy it all is. Alma doesn’t fuss when he insists she reapply her sunscreen. She dutifully takes a sip of water from the bottle in Ed’s backpack when he passes it to her. She is easily entertained by the baseball, and by the little games that flash on the Jumbotron between innings, and by the unruly fans shouting and gesturing in the bleachers. Ed had been worried that she’d hate the game today, and hate being with just him, and that he’d have to pull out a lot more tricks than just Ned the bear to win her over, but as the game passes the halfway point and Alma slurps the last of her lemonade, his worry shapeshifts into something else. He’s proud - he’s doing better than his dad did, and Stede’s dad by the sound of him, and creating an enjoyable experience for both him and Alma.
***
Another inning passes, during which they discuss their favorite players (Alma: Flores, because his walk-up music is the Friends theme song; Ed: Posey, because he’s the best on the team, bats over 300, and - okay, maybe he also thinks he’s kinda cute, but since when is it a crime to have a thing for blondes, alright?) and Ed sees Alma eyeing the cotton candy guy as he walks up and down the aisle.
“Want some cotton candy?” Alma shakes her head. “Wanna go see if we can find a better treat?” She nods at Ed but looks worried. “What if we miss the game?”
“It’s ok, the game will be waiting for us when we get back.” Ed moves to gather his backpack and prepares to stand. “C’mon, let’s find the fanciest treat in the park.”
They walk up the aisle and begin a slow loop around the concourse. Ed always enjoys a walk around the park, it helps his knee not get too stiff during the game, but he makes sure they don’t stray too far from a view of the field in case something happens so Alma doesn’t miss anything. He also points out each vendor to Alma, who seems to be weighing her treat options very seriously.
“Churros?” She shakes her head. “Ice cream?” A shrug. “Hot cocoa?” She looks at him funny. “Nah, you’re right, that’s better for night games…” They’ve reached a part of the concourse that borders the water, and Ed halts Alma so he can take a photo of her with it in the background for Stede. As he takes the photo, he sees her eyes light up on something behind him.
“Ed, look, donuts !” she shrieks, pointing over Ed’s shoulder.
“Okay, one sec, lemme just… okay, I got the photo, you said donuts?” Ed turns and looks at what Alma’s pointing at. There’s a Krispy Kreme vendor behind him. Since when did they sell Krispy Kreme at this park?
“Dad never lets us have donuts, he says they’re too much sugar for breakfast,” Alma says in a rush. “That’s what I want! Donuts! Can we get donuts??” She’s bouncing up and down now and tugging slightly on Ed’s arm.
Ed huffs a laugh and privately thinks donuts are an odd choice of ballpark treat - he’s more of a churro guy himself - but he’s beyond happy to indulge her.
“It’s not morning now, is it?” He grins down at her. “Let’s get some donuts.”
The donuts come in a four-pack and Alma asks him how many she can have. Ed puts on his still-stiff parent hat and thinks for a moment.
“How about we each have one, and then we split one, and then we bring one home for Louis?”
Alma nods ferociously. “That’s perfect, that way he won’t be jealous that I got donuts and he didn’t.”
Good job, Teach , Ed thinks - that parent hat might be starting to look good on you .
They munch their donuts while standing along the concourse by the water, which provides a new view of the field. The opposing team scores a run, which is disappointing, but their team is still winning.
Ed is about to suggest walking back to their seats when Alma tugs on his arm. She says something too quietly for him to hear, so he bends down and asks her to say it again.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she all but whispers in his ear.
Ah, yes. Totally normal, Ed can handle this. He tells her they’ll head to a family bathroom asap and starts leading them along the concourse in search of one.
They make it all the way back to their section without passing one, however, and Ed begins to quietly panic. He approaches an usher as Alma shifts uncomfortably on her feet.
“Excuse me, where’s the family toilet?”
“Upper deck, section 304,” the usher says without looking away from the game.
“Sorry, you said upper deck?!” Ed repeats back, surprised. They are about as far away from that section as they could be and still be within the boundaries of the park. The usher nods.
Alma tugs on Ed’s arm again. “Ed, I really have to go,” she says quietly, still shifting on her feet. Why the fuck is the family toilet only on the upper deck? He knows they won’t make it up there in time, so he turns towards the women’s restrooms behind them. The line snakes out the door and around the corner. She’d have to go in by herself - that was fine, right? Ed had no idea - his parent hat just blew right off in the wind. She’s eight and smart and confident and toilet trained and - and, and, was she allowed to be in there alone, surrounded by so many strangers? And Ed wouldn’t be able to see her and -
“Ed?” Alma pulls him out of his panic spiral, and he makes a decision.
“Okay Alma, so you see that line there? I’ll wait in that line with you as far as I can, and then you’ll go inside and use the bathroom, and you’ll come right out and when you do I’ll be waiting right by the entrance again. Sound good?” Alma nods and they rush to the line. Ed tries to make eye contact with friendly-looking people in the line near them, willing them silently to look after Alma while she’s in the bathroom alone. He doesn’t want to let her out of his sight, but what choice does he have?
The line starts to round the corner into the bathroom, so Ed nods at Alma as she walks inside. “I’ll meet you right here,” he says, pointing at the ground by his feet.
“And wash your hands!!” he remembers to shout as she disappears.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets out a shaky breath through his teeth. This is normal , he tells himself over and over. It’s just a bathroom, what could happen in a bathroom? He leans against the wall by the entrance and watches the line slowly move by him, willing it to go faster so he can get Alma and go back to their seats. He fidgets with his rings, watches the line, tugs on the straps of his backpack. Watches the stand next to the bathroom serve customers, smells fresh popcorn wafting from it.
Suddenly he hears the unmistakable crack of a ball hitting a bat, and the crowd roaring to life. He doesn’t have to move from his noble watch outside the bathroom to see the field, so he watches as the opposing team’s center fielder dives and spectacularly misses a deep line drive into what fans here call Triple’s Alley cause - well. They get a triple, and then score another run. Ed whoops and high-fives the guy at the popcorn stand. He worries Alma will be upset to have missed another run and starts plotting out ways to make it up to her.
***
The seventh-inning stretch starts to play, and that’s when he realizes that he’s watched a whole half-inning of the game while Alma’s been in the bathroom. Shit , he thinks - the line wasn’t that long, was it? He glances around the concourse, looking at the line with more discretion, and his eyes land on something mostly obscured by the popcorn stand. A neon green Exit sign, only about ten meters away but might as well be on Mars for how useless it is to Ed in this moment. The bathroom had two entrances, and therefore two exits.
Fuck.
Fucking dickfuck fuck .
Alma could have gone out the other exit, and Ed wouldn’t have been there, nor would he have seen her. He didn’t know where she was.
She was lost.
He lost Stede’s kid.
Two things happen in Ed’s brain simultaneously. One, he decides that the concept of two-exit bathrooms is his new Number One Enemy, higher than spiders and even higher than snakes.
Two, he fucking panics.
He runs to the evil Exit Number Two.
“‘Scuse me,” he blurts out to the first person he sees walking out. “Did you see a blonde kid, about eight years old, in there?”
“No, sorry,” she says, and brushes past him.
Fuck . He repeats his question to two more strangers exiting the bathroom, both of whom look at him with a pitying look that makes him hate himself. Neither of them have seen Alma.
He starts furiously scanning the concourse and wills his heartbeat to slow down while he weighs his options. What d’you do when you lose a kid? Guest services - right? Couldn’t they make an announcement or some shit? Ed takes off in the direction of guest services, but doesn’t make it more than five steps before he halts, people bumping into him where he stands in the very middle of the concourse. Shouldn’t he stay by the bathrooms, since that’s where they got separated? He’s sure he heard that advice before about getting lost - don’t wander or you’ll make it worse .
He turns around and starts heading back towards the bathroom entrancES, plural, goddammit, when -
He sees Alma, straight ahead of him, a huge grin on her face as she points Ed out to the usher who’s walking by her side.
Relief floods Ed and he runs full speed towards her. He registers that she’s saying something to the usher as he approaches, but all he’s focused on is scooping her into his arms and crushing her to his chest.
“You weren’t by the bathroom,” she says, muffled by Ed’s hair, but he won’t let her go now, he can’t , and he’s opening his mouth to let a litany of apologies and reassurances tumble from his lips, but she keeps going:
“But I remembered our plan, so I found an usher and asked him to take me to Section 121! And we were walking there but now you’re here!”
Ed takes a sharp breath. He’d forgotten their entire safety plan, but Alma - brilliant, calm, incredible eight-year-old Alma - had remembered. He releases her to hold her at arm’s reach. She looks so incredibly pleased with herself, and Ed is so, so proud.
“You -” he kisses her on the forehead. “Are so -” he squeezes her arms. “Smart! Alma!” He beams at her and she beams back. “Good job, kiddo. Good job.”
Ed hugs her again, and through his dazed relief can feel the self-doubt creeping in. He’d forgotten their plan - what would Alma have done if Ed had never returned to their seats? The usher speaking jolts him out of his spiral.
“Sorry, mate, what’d you say?” Ed lets go of Alma and stands up all the way.
“I was just saying, it’s great you two had a plan.” The usher is smiling at Ed and gesturing widely to the concourse around them. “So many parents, they don’t think about what to do in big crowds like this. So good on you, man.”
Though he doesn’t know it, the usher has just picked up Ed’s parent hat, brushed the dust off of it from where it had been sitting on the ground, forlorn and forgotten, and placed it gently back onto his head. He sticks out a hand for the usher to shake.
“Hey -” he looks down at his nametag. “David, mate, thanks so much for helping her find our seats.” David shakes Ed’s hand firmly but brushes off the gratitude.
“Just doing my job, man.”
“No, seriously - thank you .” Ed releases David’s hand and takes a deep breath. The panicky adrenaline has worn off, and Ed realizes he’s exhausted and they’re still standing in the middle of the concourse. He looks down at Alma.
“Time to go back to our seats, yeah?”
With a final nod to David, he takes Alma’s hand and slowly walks with her back to Section 121.
***
During the final break between innings, Ed reaches for his phone.
“Let me take a few more pictures for your dad,” he says, and positions Alma so the field is behind her.
“Okay, one, two, three, say ‘Three strikes and you’re out!’”
“Ed, that’s too long!” Alma giggles and Ed snaps a million photos of her smiling and laughing at him, with the brilliant green of the baseball field behind her and the breeze curling her hair.
“Okay, now a selfie for me.” He flips the camera around and goes to squat down next to Alma. He takes a minute to get the angle right, then takes a few photos, capturing the matching baseball caps over their eyes and matching grins on their faces.
“Do you want me to get a photo for you?” Ed looks up and sees the woman seated behind Alma smiling at them.
“Sure, thank you so much,” Ed replies and hands her his phone.
“You two are just adorable ,” she tuts as she does something with Ed’s camera settings. Ed puts his arm around Alma’s shoulders and prepares to smile for the camera. “How long have you been bringing her to games?”
“This is only our second one.” He looks down at the top of Alma’s tiny child-sized cap. “But hopefully there will be many more,” he says fondly.
The woman smiles at them as she takes a few photos. “It’s always so wonderful to see parents teaching their children a love of the game,” she says.
Parents. The word rattles around Ed’s chest like a pinball. He doesn’t know how to begin to respond to that, nor does he think this stranger wants to hear about his deeply-complicated feelings about parenthood that shifted into new, unrecognizable shapes when he met Stede and Alma and Louis. He thinks about his parent hat, how maybe he earned the right to wear it today. At least sometimes.
Ed takes too long to respond, and Alma starts talking instead. “Ed took us to a game as a special treat for him and daddy’s anniversary!” she exclaims. “And he loves baseball and I love baseball and he’s taken me to two whole games so far and I think this one is way more fun than when we went with daddy, because he was kinda distracting and only cared about what people were wearing.” She claps her hand over her mouth and looks up at Ed with wide, pleading eyes and giggles, as if she can’t believe she just threw her dad under the bus like that.
And Ed sees that the bitchiness apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? And - he fucking loves it.
“Alma, you’re a hundred percent right - this game is way more fun with you than it is with your father,” he says, and tips the brim of her hat with his knuckles.
***
Alma quickly became Ed’s favorite baseball companion, and she stayed his favorite throughout the years. As she got older, her knowledge of the game improved, but their traditions from that first game never waivered: take the train there, sit in section 121, get Krispy Kreme donuts as a treat, take one home for Louis. Games with Alma weren’t the rowdy, drunken parties that they were when Ed would go with Ivan and Fang, nor were they the meditative outings he’d have when he’d go solo, but to Ed they were the best because they were so simple. Ed quickly learned that so long as she got to sit next to Ed and eat a donut while watching the game, Alma would have fun. And if Alma was having fun, then Ed - well, he would be having the time of his life.