Rap Buys a Ring

Courtin’ Too Slow, or Too Fast?

We had just finished our home stand, ending it with a double-header. The team was to begin a long road trip the next day, so I just had part of one day to spend with some old friends and unwind before heading out of town for a couple of weeks.

Right after showering at the ballpark, I headed to the house of the friends I mentioned. He’s an old teammate of mine. I was single at the time, and the only member of my family living in Pittsburgh, so Joe and Dorothy (pretty much everyone called her “Dot”) were the closest thing I had to family there. When I came up from the minors, Joe was an established veteran, winding up his career at first base after spending a baker’s dozen of years in the outfield prior to my arrival. He sort of took me under his wing, as I was an outfielder, too. Joe’s house became my second home. Naturally, I got to know his family quite well. Besides Joe and Dot, there was Dot’s little sister, Melanie.

To cut to the chase, there were five of us at Joe and Dot’s house the afternoon after the double-header: Joe, Dot, Melanie, myself, and a woman about my age whom I had just met. I thought maybe Joe and Dot were trying to “set us up,” but that turned out not to be the case at all. Carissa was just a newcomer to the neighborhood, and happened to be there at Joe and Dot’s house by chance when I arrived—she was returning a few eggs that she had borrowed from Dot earlier in the week (well, not the same eggs, of course, but you know what I mean).

They were all talking about going out to see a movie. Joe had wanted to see Patton, but the girls outvoted him with Love Story. I was tired from the double-header, and didn’t really feel like going out.

I told the gang to go ahead but, if they didn’t mind, I would just stay behind, have a beer, maybe watch some TV, and keep their dog, Murtaugh, company.

It turned out that I then did something that surprised myself. I was really drawn to Carissa, and wanted to get to know her. “Carissa,” I said, “If you’re not set on seeing the movie, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind keeping me company here for a while. But, if you really want to go and see it, we can do it another time—if you want to, that is.”

I only half-noticed that when I said that, Melanie gave a little jump like a batter backing away from the plate when a pitcher gives him a little chin music. It didn’t really register with me at the time, but I did remember it later, after I found something out.

Carissa said she would be glad to stay behind; she said she had already seen Love Story anyway.

After Joe, Dot, and Melanie drove off and we got settled on the couch, I got right to the point:

“Carissa, I know we just met, but somehow I feel like I already know you.”

“I feel comfortable with you, too, Rap. What do you want to talk about—anything in particular, or just whatever?”

You see, everybody calls me Rap, although it’s not my given name, which is Walter. I got the nickname because I’m known for ‘rapping out’ singles. I hit the ball hard, but usually without getting under it much, so I don’t hit many home runs.

“I have something very specific in mind,” I answered Clarissa. “First of all, let me explain why I’m going about this in sort of an unorthodox way: I’m on the road a lot. I play for the Pirates. So, I don’t have a lot of time for getting to know people outside of the baseball world. To get right to the point, I want to get married and settle down, but the usual way that is done is to take it slow, spending months or even years getting to know someone you might be interested in. I don’t like that way. I’ve tried it, and been burned a couple of times.”

“Burned? How so?”

“Well, I’ve gotten to the point, actually, of considering asking a girl to marry me, only to find out that we have different goals in life; we want different things.”

“I see. So what are your goals, Rap? What do you want in life?”

“OK. I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, and I hope you don’t think I’m crazy for jumping right in like this, but I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind. Based on your answers, both of us could either save ourselves a lot of time that we might otherwise spend going down a path that leads to a dead end, or . . .”

“I have no objections, Rap. You’ve certainly got me curious about these questions you want to ask.”

These are the questions I asked her: Would you be OK with me being away from home often, playing baseball, a good part of the year, for another five to ten years? Do you want to have children and, if so, how many? Would you mind living here in Pittsburgh, in this neighborhood, until my baseball career is over, and then moving out into the country somewhere, and having an orchard? And finally: do you agree with me that a husband and wife should be faithful to one another, always, no matter what?

Carissa gave the answers I wanted to hear. I tried not to give her a hint as to what my preferences were as far as children went, but that was a potential deal-breaker for me. I wanted kids, at least one of each: my plan was to keep having children (or, rather, for my wife to keep having children, of course), one every couple of years, until we had at least one boy and one girl. I felt a sense of urgency, as I was in my late 20’s and didn’t want to be an old out-of-touch geezer when my kids were growing up.

So we would have possibly only two kids, but maybe half a dozen before we had one of each sex. Carissa was amenable to all those things, but was a little bemused by my bringing all this up when we had just met. I told her I wasn’t asking her to marry me, I just wanted to find out from the get-go whether we would be wasting our time if we were to pursue a courtship. I was tired of investing months in a girl only to find out she hated the thought of living in the country or, worse yet, did not want to ever have children.

We left it at that—no promises or anything, but we did make tentative plans to get together soon, maybe go out with the gang for a meal or movie (not Love Story) or something. Carissa then went home, and not ten minutes later Joe and Dot walked in.

“Where’s Melanie?” I asked.

Joe and Dot looked at each other and frowned. Then Dot made an “oh, well” expression with her mouth and eyebrows, shrugged her shoulders and, after taking a deep breath, spilled the beans. It turned out that Melanie was upset and disappointed with my wanting to spend time alone with Carissa. I had never known it, but Melanie was hoping that I would show interest in her, Dot said, and was waiting for me to “make my move.”

It wasn’t that there was no attraction there, on my part. I just assumed Melanie was not attracted to me.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t tell,” Dorothy said. “You can diagnose a curve ball on its way to you in the batter’s box before it starts to curve, but you certainly didn’t pick up on the hints Melanie was throwing at you. She always came over here whenever you were here, she would talk with you about baseball, buck you up when you’d had a bad day at the plate or committed an error—not that those things happened very often—”

“I just figured she was over here all the time, being your sister and living next door and all. I thought she talked baseball with me because she was used to that topic, being around Joe all these years.”

“She never talked baseball to me, Rap,” Joe informed me.

“She just thought you were one of those who takes his time,” Dot added. “She thought you would eventually come around—or was hoping you would, anyway.”

“Well, I’m coming around now! There’s nobody I’d rather—”

“You had better talk to her, then,” Dot said, patting me on the arm. “She’s pretty upset, and the longer she stays that way . . . You know what they say: ‘There’s no wrath like’—Oh, what am I saying. I’ve never seen her stuck on anyone like she is on you. But if you feel the same toward her—”

“Do I?!? You bet I do. But wait. Carissa!”

“Yeah, how did your evening go with her, old pal?” Joe asked.

“Well, fine. It went fine; but now—I had better let her know I might have been leading her on. Even though it was unintentional.”

So I walked down to Clarissa’s, a few houses down from Joe and Dot’s, and told her what was what. I tried to let her down easy, and explained the situation as best as I could. She looked a little confused, and somewhat disappointed, but ended up telling me no harm was done, and we hadn’t even had a date yet, anyway, so it’s not like I was breaking off an engagement or anything like that.

Then I went back the way I came, but passed Joe and Dot’s place. I did that because Melanie lives on the other side of their house. She saw me pass through her gate, and as I climbed the steps to her porch, she opened the door and stepped out, with her hands on her hips. I had never seen her that angry before—a little miffed about something now and then, maybe, but never like this.

“Rap, if you’re coming here to tell me—”

I held up my hand and said, “Melanie, please, let me explain.”

And I did: I told her that I was attracted to her from the first day we met, and although I knew she felt the same way as I did about having children and living in the country and all that, I felt she was out of my league; I had assumed she wouldn’t be interested in me—”

“Who told you that I had feelings for you, Rap? You obviously know. Who told you?”

“Well . . .”

I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t want to rat on Dot and cause trouble between the two sisters. Melanie figured it out, though. She turned around swiftly, pulled her front door shut with a bang, turned back toward me, and practically ran down the steps past me. As she did, she grabbed my right hand with her left and pulled me after her, saying, “C’mon!”

She practically dragged me back over to Joe and Dot’s.

On the way she glared at me and said, “Couldn’t you tell I liked you, Rap, you big knucklehead? I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

I didn’t know what to say. I thought she was just nice to everyone.

Melanie banged on Joe and Dot’s door, but didn’t wait for them to open it or for an invitation to come in; she just dragged me in, let go of my hand, and made a beeline for Dot. It seemed plain she was plenty angry with her sister. Dot escorted her into a back room, leaving Joe and I to stare at each other in perplexity.

All of a sudden I said, “Joe, give me a ride down to Tiffany’s.”

“It’s too late for breakfast, Rap.”

“Funny guy! I mean the jewelers.”

You can guess what I did there. I had Joe call Dot from the store phone to get Melanie’s ring size. He told her not to tell Melanie what he was calling about. I don’t think there was much danger of that happening.

When we walked back in to the scene of the squabble, Dot and Melanie were still talking, but were back in the living room, and the atmosphere seemed much more agreeable. The sisters didn’t know where we had gone; they probably assumed we had gone down to McCarthy’s Bar & Grill to have a beer and get away from the stormy weather.

Without any practice or warm-ups at all, I walked up to the sisters. “Excuse me, Dorothy, but Melanie, I have a question to ask you.”

“Yes, Rap?”

I knelt down on my right knee and grabbed the ring out of my left shirt pocket. From the look on her face, I could have knocked the object of my affection down with a feather duster. It was my turn to grab her hand, and I said, “Melanie, let’s you and me get married, raise a family, move out into the country once my baseball career is over, plant a fruit orchard, and be always there for one another. What do you say?”

She didn’t say much of anything, but she impatiently motioned for me to open up the ring box. It was a Black Hills Gold ring. Melanie liked it. But, of course, it wasn’t really the ring that caused her to agree with my proposition. She had been waiting for me to show interest in her for quite some time. It took me a while, but when I did, I really did, without hesitation, you’ve gotta give me that!

That was ten years ago. We’ve got three kids now: two girls and a boy, also a good crop of apple, peach, cherry, and pear trees. We put in a ball diamond at the edge of the orchard for the kids. I guess in school they call Jr. “Double Rap”; funny guys. I retired from baseball about five years ago when they were talking about trading me to the Yankees, and we moved out here. I run the orchard operation year-round, and I coach the local high school baseball team during the season. Life is good.