Page 21 of Years in the Making

“It’s okay, LG.” He squeezes my hand again. “It’s beenwhat… four days since we met? Would I like to kiss you? Hell yes. But I also have liked just talking to you and getting to know you as Nellie.” Did his voice get deeper and smoother when he said my name? Fuck, now I really want to kiss him.

We sit there for a while, both just staring at our hands, still folded together.

“So, want to come to the bar? The team goes after every game.”

I look at my watch. Nine thirty. “Yeah, I could come for a bit.”

EIGHT

TEDDY

Deep blue eyes meeting mine over a glass of ginger ale. Laughs ending in a little snort. An impromptu lesson on how blue jays are both beneficial and the worst, and how she wishes we had loons nearby because their calls are her favorite sound. Those are the memories that echo in my mind as I open my eyes the morning after Nellie told me she wanted to kiss me but she wasn’t ready. There was this strange sense of falling without ever hitting the ground when she said it. Elation and devastation had slammed into me at the exact same moment.

My head is pounding. Not from alcohol—I’d stuck with ginger ale along with her. The headache is probably from a lack of sleep and a hint of sexual frustration. It’s definitely not something about to rupture, I repeat to myself over and over again. We stayed until last call, talking. After we left, we sat on the hood of my car and talked until the sun reminded us that a new day was beginning. I had every intention of spending time with my team, but when all was said and done, all I’d done was nod my hellos and goodbyes. Nellie had all my attention, and Ididn’t feel bad about it for one second. Not even now with my head pounding with some kind of happiness hangover.

By the time I get downstairs, I find my parents having a late breakfast in the kitchen.

“You got in late,” Dad says, smiling at me and then sharing a knowing look with Mom.

I busy myself by grabbing coffee and hiding my face behind an open cupboard door. “Yeah, lots to catch up on with the team.”

“Zoe said you played very well. Everyone in the crowd was pretty impressed from the sound of it.” His attention is back on Mom who is struggling with a slice of tomato that’s attempting to escape the toast it’s sandwiched between.

My parents have a pretty steady morning routine. Coffee for Dad, orange juice for Mom, and always, without fail, a toasted tomato sandwich. Then they share the newspaper and go over all the news from near and far. The only difference between now and before I was twelve is that when they’re done reading the paper, Mom doesn’t head off to work. In a couple of months, Dad will be retired, and I’m sure they’ll get up to all sorts once that happens. He’s talked about buying a small cabin somewhere as a little retreat for them. Something he can fix up, no doubt with our help, but somewhere just for the two of them. I’ll be happy to help. I can’t think of anyone more deserving than my dad.

“Yeah, definitely not a bad way to start the season. You should come to the game on Saturday afternoon. Maybe I’ll attempt to break my record from last year.” Last summer, I threw five perfect games. It’s not all that impressive when you take into account that 90% of those playing have only played baseball in gym class. There are only about seven people who play competitively, and three of the seven are pitchers. We aren’t really known for our hitting.

“Maybe,” Dad says noncommittally. That’s better than an outright no, but I won’t be getting my hopes up.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from my boss.

Dale

I’ve got you on the schedule starting Monday at 6 am. You good with that?

Yeah, that works. Thanks.

See you then.

Dale Kramer has employed me at his landscaping company for the last five summers. This is the first year I’ll be tagging along with his tree team. I’m not sad about not spending the summer shoveling and mowing, but I have no idea what to expect. I won’t be one of the people up in the trees; I’ll be on the ground getting shit sorted and helping lug around branches and trunks. Thank fuck because I’m not great with heights. Still, it’s something different, and I’m looking forward to it. Jimmy wasn’t too pleased when I told him though.

“You’ll fuck up your arm or your shoulder and won’t be able to pitch,” he’d said.

I’d shrugged because I’m not about to put beer league baseball above income. As much as I like it, I don’t want to be living in my childhood bedroom for longer than I have to. Even if living here makes it easier to help Mom.

“Back to work Monday,” I say, looking up at my parents. “Need me to do anything around here before then?” I know my dad is going to tell me to go spend time with my friends, maybe meet someone before I get busy with work. He says the same thing every year, and every year I putter around the house doing odd jobs he’s been too distracted to complete. I see friends at night, but during the day, most of them are alreadyworking. But then I remember that Nellie said she wasn’t starting work until next week too.

I pull my phone back out of my pocket, and just as I’m tapping on my message app, a notification from her pops up.

Library Girl

You may be sick of me but feel like going for a hike today?

As if I’d get sick of you, I think to myself. I met her on Monday, and in less than a week I feel like I need a healthy dose of her to get through the day. Something warms in my chest as I realize she’s the one initiating plans this time.

Sounds good. Where would you like to go?

I reread the text before I hit send. Does it sound too blasé? I don’t want it to seem like I’m not jumping out of my skin in the best way at the thought of spending another minute with her.

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