Chapter Text
Omar is twenty-two, fresh out of college, and toiling his way through the Cards’ farm system when he meets Trevor Davis. Davis is new too, recently traded over from the Angels, and he hardly knows anyone. Omar hardly knows anyone too. They’re in the same boat.
The two of them get to be fast friends, nearly inseparable. Omar doesn’t have any family in the States, they’re all back home in Venezuela awaiting his next modest paycheck. Davis doesn’t talk much about his family—Omar gets the distinct impression his parents are disappointed in his choice of career paths—but he talks about a girl sometimes.
Ginny. Ginny. The way Davis says her name—he makes her name sound like a benediction. Holy.
The one that got away is how one of Omar’s teammates puts it, as he shakes his head and makes a sad whistling sound between his teeth.
Davis keeps a picture of Ginny in his wallet. They’d split up, which makes it kind of weird for him to still be carrying her picture around, Omar thinks. But he doesn’t say so. It’s not his place. He and Davis are friends, but they're not that close.
Davis puts the picture of Ginny in his locker one day and Omar sneaks a look at it while he’s in the showers.
She’s real pretty. Proud, her gaze cool and steady and her shoulders straight. And it looks like she’s a ballplayer too. Ginny has a baseball glove resting on her hip and a ball held loosely in her right hand. There’s something about the sight of her, holding that baseball in her hand, that excites Omar.
He’s not sure what it is. He’s not sure why, but Omar can kind of see why Davis is still hung up on her. He picks up the picture and flips it over.
To Trevor, ♥ ♥ ♥ Ginny. Maybe someday this autograph will be worth some $$$. :)
Omar isn’t proud of himself for what he does next, but he tucks the picture of Ginny in his pocket and hurries back to his own locker.
When Davis emerges from the showers and asks about the missing picture, Omar feels the weight of it heavy in his pocket.