Page 138 of When Ben Loved Tim
Why the hell not? I launch to my feet. Soon we’re both waving, which attracts the attention of multiple players. Including him. Tim is close enough that I can see his puzzlement, and the way his face becomes an impassive mask when he recognizes us. He doesn’t wave back. It really is over. So why can’t I get myself to accept that and leave a game I care nothing about?
I sit down with a lump in my throat.
Allison joins me and winces at my expression. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I shake my head. “You’re right. He’ll never change.”
But that’s not entirely true, because we did make progress together. Or so it seemed. Would it have killed him to flash a smile? Or give an upward nod? Especially after a week of us not talking. He should have been happy to see me waving at him! But no. And I can guess why.
I turn my head to the left, to a couple of rows in front of us where his parents are sitting. They haven’t noticed me and aren’t likely to. But maybe his mother would have turned around to see who Tim was waving to, and god forbid that it be a gay person. She’d be forced to call the Vatican’s emergency hotline. I can imagine the Popemobile tearing onto the field with sirens blazing before a fire hose blasts me with holy water.
“You’ll find someone new,” Allison says, taking my hand. “A sweet guy who treats you right.”
“Tell me about him,” I say as the visiting team takes the field.
“Let me look into my crystal ball.” Allison lets go of my hand to wiggle her fingers through the air. “Ah! I see him now. He has red hair and freckles. His name is Billy Bob.”
“Hmm,” I reply, not yet enamored.
“Did I mention that he was raised on a farm and is built like an ox?”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, perking up.
“Yes. He’s a giant beefcake of a man who is soppy and sentimental. He always cries during sad movies.”
“I love him! Wait… Does he have an artistic side?”
“Indeed he does! He plays the musical saw.”
“Really? That’s one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful instruments in the world!”
“I thought you would find it funny, but that works too. Now can we please get out of here?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I’m starting to stand when the commentator announces the next player up to bat. And it’s Tim. I turn a pleading expression on my friend, who sighs and sits back down. Tim is wearing a dark blue helmet now. I’ve already decided that if he turns around and points at me, all will be forgiven. Although I think that’s only done when a player is showing where they intend to hit the ball, so maybe it’s a dumb idea.
“Go, Tim, go!” cries a voice from somewhere behind us. “You’ve got this! Hit a home run!”
I glance over my shoulder in confusion that doesn’t abate, because I recognize the speaker. Danny is wearing the red trucker hat. He’s on his feet while clapping and grinning, rivaling even Krista’s enthusiasm. Especially when I hear a crack. Danny begins jumping up and down. I return my attention to the field and see a blur racing toward second base. And he makes it! I almost forget that I’m supposed to be angry at him. But when I see Krista and Tim’s parents applauding this result, my curiosity gets the better of me, because I don’t understand why Danny has joined their fan club.
“Just a second,” I say to Allison. “I’ll be right back.”
I make my way down the row and up the aisle to where he’s sitting.
Danny’s face lights up when he sees me. “Ben! What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I reply. “Are you into sports?
“Not usually,” Danny admits. “But there are some aspects I find interesting. Like the statistics.” He starts talking about RBIs and ERAs, leaving me totally lost. Another crack interrupts his lecture. “He made it!” Danny cries in delight.
I glance at the field. Tim is on third base now. “Is he your favorite player?” I ask casually.
“Yeah,” Danny replies with a sheepish expression. “He’s really good.”
“That’s the guy who was picking on you, right?”
“Well sure,” Danny says dismissively, “but he doesn’t anymore. Tim is actually really nice. He always smiles at me in the hall.”
