by Unknown
Technically, we don’t need to be practicing yet. Tryouts don’t start until March, but everyone knows we are capable of winning the state championship this year.
“How’s pitching going?” Coach asks with excitement. Candice smacks him on the shoulder, making me laugh.
“They were in the formal dining room. He started yammering on about how things are going to change and he’s not going to be traveling anymore, so we don’t need to worry about his stress,” I explain. “I lost it, Coach. Being stressed doesn’t make you do the things he’s done to us. He hit me. I stormed out and now I’m here.”
My elbows meet my knees, my head drops, and my hands tangle in my hair. I rub the corners of my eyes. All at once, everything in my life crashes into perspective, and I can’t fight the tears anymore. My clenched fists rain blow after blow over the kitchen table. Howls of uncertainty and bitterness escape my throat. For things I’ll never understand and for moments I’ll never experience, my hand throbs under the weight of my fury.
Safe, loving arms embrace me.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll make up your bed.” Candice squeezes my knee as she stands.
Once she leaves the room, I glance up to see Coach sitting across from me. His eyes are always so passive when I look at them, but not today. He’s ready for war and I know he won’t keep my secret.
I furiously wipe at the pool of tears beneath my eyes. “What are you going to do?” I ask beneath my breath.
“I’ll report it to the school district. From that point, I’m not sure what will happen,” he answers. He stands and points to the fridge. “There’s some cold pizza in there if you’re hungry. Go take a shower, then come to my office. I want to hear about your pitching.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer with acceptance.
Dazed, I walk through the house. As I step into the bathroom, I catch my reflection. My eyes are a disturbing shade of pink. My shoulders slump in defeat, but the bruise holds my attention.
I turn the faucet on as hot as it will allow, stepping into the shower I frequented all summer. As it cascades down my back, I pretend the water washes everything away, but when I wake in the morning, I’ll still be the son of an abusive father and my world will continue to spiral out of control.
After I dress, I make my way to Coach’s office. The only light in the room comes from his small desk lamp. Silence fills the room as I take a seat on the couch against the wall. With his back turned, I’m not sure he knows I’m here with him.
“How’s it going, Graham?”
“Good. You should’ve seen me today. Mark says I’m doing my best pitching he’s ever seen.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Coach twirls in his chair and his eyes burn into me. “Where’s your head at?”
I swing my legs up and rest my head on the arm of the couch, racking my brain for an answer.
“Graham?” Coach questions my silence.
“I just don’t know how I got here,” I whisper. “How did I get here?”
Coach circles his desk and stops beside me. “What your dad does, none of that is in your control. Some people are just built to be the way he is. It’s not your fault.”
I lift up and rest my elbows on my knees. “It’s not just him, though. It’s everything. I feel like everything’s falling down around me, Coach, and I can’t hold on.”
He scratches his forehead. “When you’re young, it can seem like that, but I promise you’re stronger and more resilient than you think. At the end of this school year, you’ll be out of this town, and you don’t have to look back. This town can be a memory you dream up when you’re older.” His hand rests on my shoulder. “But you need to know there’re people in this town who want nothing but the best for you.”
“What are you trying to say?” My eyebrows furrow at his declaration.
“Let me tell you how Candice and I met.” Coach sits down beside me and leans back against the cushion. His smile widens when he turns to me. “We met in high school. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when I first laid eyes on her. We started dating shortly after freshman year and have been together ever since. It hasn’t always been easy. That’s the point to life, Graham. It’s not meant to be easy and carefree. We’ve gone through her cancer and survived. We’ve managed to find something to love in each other even when we’ve both grown and changed into different people. Most importantly, Graham, we fight for each other.”
My head falls at what he’s insinuating. “I don’t deserve someone like Kennedy.”
“The fact you can admit that proves you do, son.” Coach vacates the couch. “Last year, your pitching was spot on. Nothing could touch your fastball. I watched you this summer. You weren’t bad, but you weren’t good either. You just were. You don’t think that has anything to do with her?” He twirls his wedding band around his finger. “When things are right with Candice, everything else in my life falls into place. I saw you two together today. The hallway was empty, but I happened to walk by and see you holding her. Then Mark claims today is the best pitching he’s seen from you.”
“They have nothing to do with each other.” I roll my shoulders to ease the stress building beneath the muscle.
Coach smacks the back of my head. “Open your eyes, kid. That girl makes you better. When things are right with you guys, nothing can touch you. Not on the field. Not off the field. That girl is your saving grace.”
I scoff at his theory as I walk to his office door. “Coach, you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”
“Have I?” he answers. His words contradict my fear. He’s out to prove his point at any cost.
I go to bed with Coach’s words in my head.
When things are right you with guys, nothing can touch you.
That girl is your saving grace.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kennedy
Violet runs around the couch and leaps onto the seat next to mine. “We need to talk about spring break.”
“What about it?” I flip through the movie channels to find something to watch.
The smirk on her face makes me laugh.
“What do you mean what about it? Spring break’s going to be here in less than five weeks. We need to make plans, book tickets and hotels, buy bathing suits, and the list goes on.” Violet rattles off in a hurry.
“I don’t plan on going to Spring Break.”
“You have to,” Violet whines. “It’s a senior year rite of passage. Everyone’s going.”
“I’m not.” I deadpan.
Things are tight for my parents right now. To ask them to throw money away on a vacation for me wouldn’t be fair.
“You are, and we’re about to ask your mom.” Violet nods in excitement.
The front door open. Violet must have seen her pull into the driveway.
“Don’t you dare mention it to my mom.”
“Hi, Mrs. Conrad. We were just talking about you,” Violet shouts, and throws an obnoxious smile my way.
Keys hit the small table in the entryway, and mom walks around the corner.
“Hi, Violet. Hey, sweetie, what’s going on?” Her gaze bounces between the two of us.
“Kennedy has something to ask you about spring break.” Violet elbows me in the ribs.
“That’s coming up, isn’t it?” She bites the inside of her cheek.
“Five short weeks,” Violet sings, an innocent smile lighting her face.
“And let me guess, Vi, you have plans already mapped out in your head?” My mom laughs at her enthusiasm.
“You know me too well.” Violet jumps from the couch, wraps mom in a hug, and then holds her at arms-length. “Mexico.” The destination releases from her lips in a boisterous tone.
“Mexico?” My mom’s voice is weary. I shrug when she looks to me for an explanation.
“Mexico,” Violet repeats.
My mom peeks around Violet, and our eyes meet. “Ken, I’ll need to talk to your dad.”
“No rush
, Mom.”
She walks down the hall, and when I hear the bedroom door close behind her, I scowl at my best friend. “I didn’t want you to put her on the spot.” I rest my head in my hands and tug my hair.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s senior year. I’ve always assumed we would go together. Make it a thing,” Violet says as she plops down beside me again.
I’m afraid to look her in the eyes. She’ll see my embarrassment.
“Kennedy, what’s going on?” Violet whispers as she rests her hand on my leg.
I force myself to meet her eyes. “I can’t go to Mexico. It’s going to cost a fortune, and it’s a fortune my family doesn’t have,” I admit. “We aren’t poor, by any means, but we aren’t rich like the rest of you, either.” I ghost my hand towards her.
“Is that what you’re worried about? The money?” Violet’s eyes narrow in on me. “Okay, so money’s tight. We’ll figure it out. You’re going, even if I have to dip into my own bank account.”
“I can’t let you pay my way, Violet.”
“You aren’t letting me do anything. I can do anything I want with my money. If I want to splurge on a vacation with my best friend before we run off to college, then I will,” Violet persists as she stands and runs from the room.
Before I can get a word out, the door shuts and her engine roars.
Most days, Violet is tenacious and overwhelming, but underneath all her crazy red hair and spunky attitude is a best friend who would move the Earth for the ones she loves. She’s the type of person you fight to keep in your life.
My back pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone. The screen lights up with Mark’s name and I push ignore, shoving it back into its hiding place. I’m avoiding him and for good reason. After school, instead of waiting for him, I threw my books in my bag and rushed out the side door. I’m not ready for the scrutiny I’m sure to endure when he gets the chance to chastise my friendship with Graham.
“Can we talk, mom?” I ask as she passes through the living room. With a fraction of fear and a sliver of happiness, I feel like I can talk to my mom about what’s going on in my life.
“Of course. Why don’t you help me make the lasagna?” She smiles as I follow her into the kitchen. She motions towards the raw ground beef and I follow her silent instructions.
As I open the packaging and dump the content into the pan, I begin to talk. “I think Mark’s going to be upset that Graham and I are friendly now,” I explain. My mom turns to me just as I look to her for guidance. “Graham and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye lately, but he needs me, Mom.”
She purses her lips, then turns to the sink to fill a pot for the noodles. “But why does he need you?”
I lean against the counter. “His dad’s back.”
She jerks around, almost sloshing water on the floor. “Graham told us his dad wasn’t supposed to be around much.” Her face drops with her slip up. With wide eyes, she and I have a stare-off.
“When did you and Dad talk to Graham?” My eyebrows furrow in anger.
My mom ignores me. She mindlessly plays with the bowls in front of her. The stiffness in her back tells me she’s hiding something.
“Mom?” I screech to gain her attention.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you. I promised him I would keep it between us.” She rubs her forehead.
“Tell me what?” To keep my hands busy, I grab the spatula off the counter and stir the meat.
“He called. Just once a week,” she mutters under her breath. “He didn’t want you to know, but after how things ended, he wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“He called?” My eyes begin to water.
My mom nods her head.
“And you didn’t think to tell me all this time? I spent the entire summer trying to cope with everything on my own, and Graham, the one person I wanted, checked in on me the whole time? I felt so alone, so hidden away from everyone, but the whole time, you’re telling me he called. He fucking called?” I shout. I toss the spatula down onto the counter. It bounces and falls to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Kennedy...” she whispers and takes a step towards me.
“No, Mom. Just don’t.” I halt her intrusion by stomping out of the room.
The sound of my bedroom door slamming echoes. My body falls to my bed and I stare at the ceiling. Tears trail down my cheeks and soak my bedspread.
I grab my phone and push the top button to bring it to life. My fingers slide across the screen and I send a text.
When were you planning on telling me you checked up on me all summer?
There’s a long pause before my phone vibrates in my hand.
Don't do this
No, don’t you do this, Graham. Why would you check up on me, but let me think I was completely alone?
Jesus, I'm coming over. Unlock ur window.
He’s coming over?
Not a good idea, Kennedy. Tell him no.
OK!
I dash into the bathroom, run a brush through my hair, and throw it into a messy bun. When I glance in the mirror, red eyes and cheeks stare back at me. Splashing my face with cold water doesn’t help. It’s no use. I look exhausted.
As I consider changing out of my leggings and oversized sweatshirt, I hear a tap on my window. I run over in hopes of quieting his entrance. As I push the window up, Graham swings his legs into my bedroom.
“She told you?” He paces like a caged animal and looks over every inch of the once familiar space. “Nothing’s changed since the last time I was here.” He runs a finger over the top of my dresser. “Except for this.” He points at a picture of the two of us. “This wasn’t here.”
I walk over and pick up the white picture frame.
Graham clears his throat as my thumb runs over our faces. “It was after one of my games.” Graham lifts the frame from my hand and stares at the photo.
“We didn’t know she took the picture. I asked her to hold the camera because I wanted to congratulate you on the win.” I sit on the edge of my bed, fiddling with my leggings.
“You had those damn crutches, but you dropped them, and I lifted you up in my arms and you just laughed that laugh of yours,” Graham adds, sadness in his quiet voice.
“It was a perfect moment. One of the happiest moments. I used to love to watch you play.” My head shakes in disbelief at how different things are from then to now. “God, watching you play baseball is a sight to see, Graham. There’s nothing like it.”
“I assume you’ll be in the stands this year.” Graham’s statement is almost a question. “I didn’t want to say this over a text. I thought you and I deserved better than that, Ken.”
His calling me ‘Ken’ causes a haunting chill to run up my spine. He’s not the first person to do so, but the insignificant nickname falls from his lips like my name is more a prayer to him than anything else. Hearing it gives me a thrill I know I shouldn’t feel.
“Why’d you call them all summer?” I blurt, my eyes trained on his back.
He places the picture frame back on the dresser and faces me. Our eyes lock and everything I need to know is right in front of me.
“Ken... I just...” he stammers.
“You loved me,” I answer for him. “You called them to check in on me because you loved me and you couldn’t imagine not knowing.”
Graham walks over to sit next to me. My head falls to his shoulder and rises as he shrugs.
“What do you want me to say, Kennedy? I loved you, but I still left because it was what was best for you.”
My head lifts slow and I face him. He turns to me and I see it. I feather my finger on the cut angled across his cheek. A purple bruise surrounds it.
“I know you said he’s back. How long until this happened?” I question.
Graham stands and paces the length of my room. “Today.”
“Why didn’t you come here?”
“To walk through these halls...” He motions to the door. “That would be too hard.”<
br />
“Because of Mark?” I stand and step in front of Graham.
Graham trails his hands down my arms. “Because to see you happy without me is excruciating.”
His words sting and a tear slides down my cheek. “You being safe makes me happy, Graham.”
“Please, don’t cry for me.” He runs a finger from my eye to my jaw to erase the evidence of my fear.
I step away from him, turn my back, and wipe off the remaining tears. “Can you stay for a little bit?”
“Kennedy...”
I turn at the desperate tone in his voice.
Graham brushes his knuckles over the top of my dresser and twist towards me. He pats his index finger against his lip, his stare conflicted.
“It’s just a movie, Graham. I’m not asking for your hand in marriage.” I sit on the edge of the bed and watch as he shuffles in place.
Because of our history, I never imagined him in my present nor my future, but having him standing here in front of me, I want to devour as much of him as possible with the time I have.
He strides with his usual swagger over to the bookshelf that holds my DVD collection. His eyes scan over every jacket until it lands on the perfect one.
“You liked this book, right?” Graham holds up The Longest Ride DVD. I nod and smile because it’s like Graham to remember something so insignificant.
Tossing the blanket over my lap, I recline into my pillows. Graham slips his shoes off and throws them by the window before climbing onto my bed. I watch his every move as he adjusts the pillows behind his back just as he has so many times before.
“What?” he questions my wide eyed stare.
“Just seeing you here, in my bed, it’s a lot to take in,” I confess, folding my hands in my lap. Idol hands are the devil’s playground, and I’m being tested with the urge to reach out and touch Graham.
“I should leave.” He pushes off the mattress and attempts to stand, but I tug on his arm to get him to sit back down.
“Please don’t. I always felt a normalcy around you. Lately everyone treats me like I’m made of glass.”
“We’re going to be okay, Kennedy, the both of us. Somehow, we’ll be all right.”
I twist my arm through his and pull myself closer to his side. My head rests on his shoulder, and we both sigh as we melt into each other. An impossible task is to pretend to be okay, and as of lately, I feel as if I’m drowning. Here, right now, I’m starving for air, and somehow, at the same time, I couldn’t feel more alive being beside Graham.