Page 61 of The Curve
“It’s a curveball,” I hear someone say.
“It dips as it reaches Atticus. But he’s ready. He reaches out his bat and connects solidly. The crack of the bat reverberates through the sound system, and he takes off.
As he runs, he’s watching it sail overhead. It sails across the field, over the heads of the players. It barely outdistances the reach of the center fielder and fly’s out of the park.
Atticus touches first, second and third, and comes back to where he started. A big smile lights his face as he reaches home.
* * *
It’s an empty stadium now.The crowd of fans have left, Mallory and her friends are on their way too. It’s just Atticus and me, standing on home plate as he teaches me the finer points of the swing. I’m holding the bat and he’s holding me.
“That’s it. You’ve got it. Spread your legs a little,” he says putting his leg between mine.
“That’s what he said,” I tease.
I get a kiss on the neck for my effort.
“Now you’re ready for the pitch.”
“How do you know which one you’re going to get?”
He let’s go and moves in front of me.
“You don’t. That’s part of the art of the game. You can only anticipate so much.”
“Like life,” I say.
“Sometimes the best ones surprise you.”
He tosses the bat behind me and I fall into his open arms. Taking my face in his hands, he leans his forehead against mine.
“Falling in love with you has been the most beautifully unexpected thing that ever happened to me. And for you and Mallory and I, our lives together have just begun.”
Deep down in my soul I feel his pitch come toward me. It’s the curve that sets everything straight.
