“You sound a little bossy, Lupe.” Ginny looked up, giving Lupe an attitude check.
“Oh, forget it,” Lupe said. Her eyes were drawn to someone sitting on the sofa in the lobby—a man clipping stories from the newspaper.
“It would take a special bus for his wheelchair. Is the stadium accessible?” Ginny asked. The man with the newspaper lowered the section he held and looked at Lupe. It was him again, the Clemente man. She froze. He nodded his head as if to say, “Yes, let him see you play.”
“What do you mean accessible? Maybe his son could bring him?” Lupe nodded toward the sofa, hoping this man was truly Ramirez’s son and not some sort of ghost. Ginny looked toward the sofa, then back at Lupe.
“What do you mean? He doesn’t have a son, or anyone, honey. That old high school stadium would not be easy for anyone in a wheelchair.” The phone rang and Ginny began another conversation.
Mr. Ramirez never showed up at a game, and it was a good thing because the team’s luck turned around and the next two games were disasters.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.