Paint Black
Page 20
Once a hard luck pitcher, always a hard luck pitcher.
Cold realization hit him violently.
The money for my son’s future—I spent it all.
My body—it’s all used up.
There’s nothing left.
The realization that he’d never play in the major leagues added to the strife within his heart.
Struggling to move, he walked out to the edge of the clubhouse. Wanting to avoid any contact—needing to be alone—Ryan staggered to the tunnel and leaned against the cold concrete.
Before he realized it, tears streamed down his face.
A clubhouse attendant passed by. “You okay?” asked the attendant, his voice full of concern.
Turning away, Ryan mumbled, “I’m alright,” and walked further into the tunnel.
The entire world seemed to be spinning all around him. He felt his body letting go and falling. At the last second, he reached out and grabbed a pipe conduit that ran up the concrete wall.
I’ve got to call, Stephanie.
He dreaded making the call
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him.
Roy Peterman stood at the end of the tunnel, unmoving.
Walking up to him, Ryan stood like a little boy in front of him. Slouched shoulders, tears in his eyes, he shook in anger and in fear. “It was all bullshit, all of it. They were never serious. They wanted to ease their conscious. They thought their bonus baby would beat me in the contest and they could justify sending him up and leaving me behind.”
Peterman hardly moved; his face remained even. No surprise existed in his eyes.
Ryan moved closer to the man. “You knew?”
Peterman nodded. “I suspected.”
Ryan tried to speak but words escaped him.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell you, Son,” Roy tried to explain. “Everyone has a right to dream. To hold on to their dreams, no matter what.”
Ryan nearly fell down in defeat. Somehow, he remained standing.
“You pitched a great game, Ryan. With the money on the table, under all the pressure—you pitched a great game. They can’t take that away from you. No one can.”
Despondently, Ryan forced himself to look directly into Roy Peterman’s eyes. “How am I going to tell Stephanie?”
Peterman didn’t answer.
Ryan looked away. After a few seconds of silence, his despair worsened. “How does a man tell his wife that their future’s over? …their son’s future is over?”
Roy Peterman’s quiet seemed different to Ryan. An eternal optimist, the man lived his life always encouraging those around him to persist and never give up. His quietness seemed out of character.
Peterman had good reason to be silent. His mind raced to say the right words to a man he considered his son.
“She’s here. I brought her with me.”
Ryan turned violently to confront Roy. Anger flashed across his face.
Peterman raised his hands in front of Ryan, in self-defense. “She wanted to come.” At last, the man gave up and lowered his hands. “I was just trying to help, Son.”
“You had no right to...?” Flashing righteous anger, Ryan fought to control his emotions. At last, his anger disappeared, the kindness of the man melting his rage. “I don’t know how to tell her,” he said, lowering his head.
“Ryan,” Peterman started, gently, “She’s a good woman. Speak from your heart. She deserves what’s in your heart.”
Don’t throw us away
“Roy says that he can help us.”
“I don’t want his help,” cried Ryan, in frustration. Realizing the anger in his voice, he said in softness, “I don’t… want… need… anyone’s help. It’s my family.”
“There’s nothing wrong, Honey. We can pay him back.”
Ryan shook his head violently. Heaviness overtook his voice. “Don’t you see? This isn’t the life I wanted. I expected better.” Shaking his head again, he finished his lament like a man defeated. “I won, Stephanie. I won. They took the win away from me.”
She reached out to hold him, to nurture him, to comfort him, somehow.
Ryan pulled away, seeking to keep distance between them.
“No,” Stephanie shook her head back at him. “I watched you today. I saw how much pain you went through. You fought… through it all. The awful pain… You did it.” Full of love, she said, “You pitched brilliantly, Honey. They can do whatever they’re going to do, but I saw what you did. You did it because you loved us.”
Deep-seated anger erupted inside of Ryan and he lashed out at the closet target. “And what good is it to us? Huh? Can’t you see I’m finished?” He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “I’ve got nothing left.”
Releasing her, he slumped against the cold concrete of the player tunnel.
Without moving toward him, Stephanie sobbed. Her voice trembled with freight and heaviness. “You’re not finished? You have so much to offer.” Shaking her head, her hair fell across her face. Her voice rose in anger. “But you won’t ever see it. All you see is your worth if you’re a baseball player.” Her head shook more violently. “I didn’t stay with you all these years because of what you could do on the baseball field.”
Ryan looked into her eyes. He couldn’t respond. All warm emotion left his body. Only cold remained.
“I stayed because of how you once made me feel.” She outstretched her arms as if trying to push away the unseen walls pressing into her. “Through all of it: the late nights alone, the long travel series, the big games”—she hugged herself, her arms gripping her shoulders tightly—“they’re all big games, every single one of them, right?”
Without waiting for him to react or answer her, she went on. “Through all the losses when you couldn’t even talk to me, through all the pain… physical, mental…”
Her hands loosened around her shoulders. She cried out, in a voice of anguish and sorrow. “I’ve been there for you! For us! Can’t you see how much I love you?” Tears flowed freely down her face and her voice softened. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted… needed. Not the game. Not the money the game might give us. You.”
Ryan stopped. The sensation of her emotions assailed him; her passion affected him.
He managed to stop his downward spiral.
Then, a pulse of anger ignited his rage again. Falling back into his pit of sorrow, he lowered his vision. The bill of his baseball cap—still upon his head—covered his distinct features. “I’m finished. I’m can’t even put food on the table so my family can eat.”
Stephanie shook her head violently back to him, her long golden-brown hair vacillating under the bright light of the tunnel. “You’ll get over this. In time, none of this will matter. Don’t you see? You’re my husband, our son’s father, and we love you.”
Her pleas enthralled him, and yet, he couldn’t summon the strength to respond. Now, his strength left him and he convulsed in the cool night air wafting through the tunnel.
“Ryan!” Stephanie’s voice became a piercing cry of desperation. “We love you. Your son doesn’t care about all this. He’s only wants his daddy and mommy to love him. Ryan, please. Honey, don’t throw us away.”
Rising to his full stature, he looked down at her. Reaching out, he lightly touched her auburn hair.
She closed her eyes and fully experienced his gesture.
“I need time,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes.
Quickly, before she could react any further, he embraced her. He sensed more fear than anxiety in her trembling spine.
“I need time,” he repeated.
Letting go of her, he turned and slowly walked away.
Stephanie made no move to intercept him. Sadly, she glanced at Roy Peterman, who stood at the edge of the tunnel.
Roy’s kindness gave Stephanie comfort.
She needed security in her vulnerable condition and—for the sake of her son—she felt drawn toward the man.
“I can drive
you back, if you like,” Roy offered. They stood alone in the dark of the tunnel.
She didn’t see any reason to refuse Roy’s kindness. Her instincts told her the man cared deeply for Ryan, and about her and little Mitch.
Faintly she smiled; carefully she nodded.
The long drive back to Oklahoma nearly destroyed her. Considering her future and her son’s wellbeing depleted the little strength she still possessed.
Finally, Roy’s car pulled into the driveway of the Brownsville home.
Little Mitch slept in his car seat, quietly.
Stephanie sat still in the front seat. Then, in desperation, with all the strength that remained within her, she turned to Roy. His severe visage made her cry. “He’s not coming back to me… is he?”
Roy refused to look at her. His knuckles white, he violently gripped the steering wheel.
“Please, Roy, tell me.”
Slightly moving his head, he answered, “No.”
Stephanie absorbed his blunt honesty. I must be strong. My baby needs me.
Hardening her spine, she forced back her tears.
“Thanks for telling me the truth, Roy,” she said, mustering all of her control to stop her hands from trembling. A shudder passed over her body as she contemplated the future alone.
After a few seconds, she listlessly got out of the car and reached into the backseat to get her baby.
“Let me help you,” Roy said, tenderly.
Summer ends
In light of the circumstances, Ryan considered it impossible to ride back home in the team bus.
The man at the counter of “Value Auto Rentals” politely coughed and said, “Sir, please understand there’ll be a one-way fee.”
“That’s okay,” Ryan replied.
He didn’t care. The price to be alone seemed justified to him.
Beautiful, mountainous landscape flashed by; he hardly noticed.
In gut-wrenching torment, he relived each game of the side-by-side contest, pitch by pain filled pitch. His agonizing pronounced the torment in his shoulder all over again, in distinct sensations.
He heard the voices and saw the faces of those who had dared to promise him heaven, only to send him to purgatory.
The feelings he harbored in his flesh went beyond words.
He was finished.
Not just as a player—but as man. At least a man of any value to a wife and a child.
He possessed nothing left to commit to the future.
I gave my all. I gave everything.
Colorado lay behind him and he entered Oklahoma with consternation. Driving through the Arbuckle Mountains, he considered his life and speculated about his future.
Abruptly, he reflected on his Aunt Dorothy.
I’ll need to break it to her. Let her know I’ll always be there for her.
From a distance—repeatedly—he heard Stephanie’s voice calling him in his mind.
“I love you, Honey. Little Mitch and I want you home. We’ll survive, if we’re together. Please come back to us.”
The thought of his wife and his little boy jarred him emotionally. A full tableau of images passed through his mind, causing him to drive disjointedly, without direction.
Getting off the freeway, he drove across the backroads, just driving, no longer headed home.
I’m headed nowhere. I’ve got nowhere to go.
What am I going to do? All I know is baseball. It’s the only thing I’m good at.
Oh God! he pleaded, his heart breaking across the dark landscape.
Hours passed and still he drove. Dark countryside filtered past. A thick fog within his head swirled around his thoughts.
Finally, having trouble breathing, panic set in and he pulled over to the side of the road.
Holding on to the side of the car, he heaved in the night, but nothing came out. Spitting out the traces of bile, he wiped away the moisture in disgust and looked out into the darkness.
He got out of the car and looked up the road. Then back from where he’d just come.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there on the back roads of Comanche County, looking across the gently rolling hills, even beyond to the north, where ascended the Wichita Mountains.
Marshall County came to him as a distant memory.
The memories of his past left him numb, his nerves causing him to tremble.
Time passed, and the Oklahoma winds breathed over him, bringing calmness. All through the night, he breathed the air of home and thought of days gone by.
Dull images of his father squatting behind home plate, calling out words of encouragement, “Come on, Ryan! Concentrate! Throw to the mitt!”
More shadows of his life entered his conscious. His maturity as a pitcher, his development into manhood, his years in the minor leagues and life with Stephanie, the birth of his son—the powerful images filled his mind and refused to depart.
Dad, I wish you were alive. I wish I could talk to you and ask you what I should do. You’d be able to help me.
A sob escaped his chest. A cry like the lonely cry of the wolf pushed out of him.
A grown man ain’t supposed to cry.
Especially over a kid’s game.
In the Oklahoma night, he wept.
Heavy moans, even whimpers, left his most guarded places.
Defiance left him. All that remained were his fragile hopes and his troubled fears.
Never before had he reflected on his life and future so intently.
Far into the night, he thought over every part of his tomorrow. The actions he would take and the words he would say. Where and how he would live.
“Come home, Darling,” Stephanie called out from the Oklahoma flatlands, beyond to the distant highlands. Preserving the sound of her voice, the night captured her fractured emotions and delivered them to his heart.
Distinctly, Ryan heard Stephanie’s voice in the night’s stillness.
“I can’t,” he replied, his voice sounding like thunder in the Oklahoma night. His conviction startled him, making him feel cold and alone.
At last, the moon began to dissolve in the night sky and the tinge of the early morning sun started to lift in the horizon.
Across the shadows of the mountains, a cool mist materialized out of the fog and moved across the jagged edges of the peaks. He stood marveling at the sight, letting a cool gust of moist wind hit him directly in the face.
Summer’s coming to an end, he sadly pondered. Fall’s right around the corner.
Out of the mountain air, he heard the distinct sound of Stephanie calling him. “Ryan, Honey, please come home! Come home to me… to your son. Please!”
Aware that the night was ending and a new day was dawning, he slowly walked back to the vehicle. Sliding into the seat, he turned the key, the motor roaring to life.
Pulling the car back onto the road, he pointed it toward home.
The End
About the author:
Baltazar Bolado is the author of Publius: Libertas Aut Mors, The Ululant Ache, Sword and the Pythia, and numerous short stories. This is his sixth novel. He lives in northern Michigan.
Discover other titles by Author name at Amazon.com
Or connect with Baltazar online @
Website: baltazarbolado.com
Twitter: @Baltazar_Bolado
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BaltazarBoladoAuthor
Table of Contents
1st Inning
2nd Inning
3rd Inning
4th Inning
5th Inning
6th Inning
7th Inning
8th Inning
9th Inning
-o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share