Moving Forward: A Baseball Romance

by Kim Jones

  “What’s up, Leo?”

  “Want to hang out today after practice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good luck today. I’m sure you’ll do great, man,” Leo said, warmly. He hung up, and Tommy was left staring at the phone, a stupid grin stretched across his features.

  He checked the clock and quickly rinsed his mug and put it to dry, taking the steps two at a time as he bounded upstairs to get dressed.

  ***

  “Great job, Adams,” the coach called out as he took off his cap and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I know you’re on fire today, but save some of it for the game.”

  “Sure, coach. Don’t worry,” Tommy assured him. “It’ll be okay.”

  The coach signaled for Tommy to come closer. He took off sprinting and landed in a thick fog of dust in front of the coach, who coughed and waved his hand across his face to dispel the smoke.

  “I’m glad we took a chance on you,” the coach revealed. “You’ve got talent, kid, and I think you’re going to go far, but remember, talent without discipline won’t amount to much.”

  Tommy nodded as he shifted from one foot to the other and thought about Aimee. At first, he was worried she’d become a distraction, but Aimee was the best kind of motivation. He’d discovered that quickly, and he’d realized that she was, quite possibly, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  He felt happier with her, at peace with the world, like he’d finally found his place in it. He couldn’t recall ever feeling that way before, and he wanted to hang onto that feeling for as long as possible. He wouldn’t consider himself unlucky, but in his life, he’d learned to appreciate the fleeting moments, and the people who were only around temporarily.

  Basically, that left everything and everyone.

  Nothing in the life was a guarantee, and Tommy knew that better than a lot of people his age. One minute his father was a living breathing person laughing and chatting, and the next he was a cold empty shell on the floor with only the blood pouring steadily forth as an indication that he’d ever been alive.

  Tommy remembered touching his father’s hand in that moment and reeling in shock because of how cold it was. It was lifeless. He hadn’t even touched a corpse before, and his stomach was churning by the end of it, and he tasted bile in the back of his mouth. The paramedics hadn’t seemed surprised when he walked over to the one of the bushes and puked his guts out.

  Still, he was ashamed.

  He wanted to be stronger for his father and prove that he could handle this, but how could he have known? And if he had, what would he have done differently?

  Tommy shook his head and reeled his thoughts back in as he realized his coach was still talking, and he’d completely spaced out. This was the second time he’d thought of his father today, and it had been a while since he’d thought of him that often. In the beginning, after it happened, he’d thought of nothing else.

  He couldn’t eat, sleep or function without thinking about the incident.

  All his thoughts, and his very existence were plagued by the image of his father, and the sound of gunfire ringing around him. Eventually, in an effort to cope, his mind had begun to soften his father’s memory, pulling it to the back of his mind, so it wouldn’t be so glaring all the time.

  The human brain was a funny thing. It knew how to protect itself like that, and Tommy knew that firsthand, but today, for some inexplicable reason, his father was all around. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his father would’ve been the first person he’d have told about the Chicago Coyotes, and last night, after his date, he and his dad would’ve stayed up late talking about Aimee.

  He missed their father-son talks, and he’d never imagined himself admitting that. Especially because he’d stopped listening once he hit thirteen. Now, he wished he could have it all back.

  Finally, Tommy bid his coach farewell, threw his gym bag over his shoulder and began the walk home. The cold wind stung as it slapped him against the cheek, and he paused to take his sweater out, so he wouldn’t get a cold.

  On his way home, he spotted Leo and a couple of the other guys shooting hoops. He placed his hands on the fence and watched them, thinking about the time when he used to want to play basketball like them. Initially, it was because all his friends were interested in it, and he’d wanted to develop a genuine interest, but he realized over time that his true passion lay with baseball.

  “Too cool to join us now, Adams?” Leo jogged up to him, his shirt clinging to his sweaty form. His face was red and sweaty with exertion.

  “I just finished practice, man. I’m too beat to play a game,” Tommy said, apologetically.

  Leo began making chicken noises at him. Tommy rolled his eyes and made a face at Leo.

  “So, how did it go with that chick last night? Annie, was it?”

  “Aimee,” Tommy corrected. “It went well.”

  Leo waggled his eyebrows. “Did somebody finally get some?”

  Tommy cleared his throat. “It wasn’t like that, Leo. Come on, you know I’m not like that.”

  “Dude, you are whipped already.” Leo leaned against the fence, his body causing it to vibrate. “You’ve only been on one date.”

  “Yeah, but she was something else, dude,” Tommy revealed. “I don’t know. She was real.”

  Leo raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means? Real?”

  Tommy knew it didn’t make sense, and if he wasn’t in it, he’d be confused too.

  “The kind of girl you can talk to, Leo. Not just some shallow airhead.”

  “Don’t knock them till you try them,” Leo advised.

  Tommy pursed his lips. “No, thank you. I’d rather not. They’re not my type.”

  Leo shrugged. “Suit yourself. More for me then.”

  Tommy glanced down at his phone when he noticed it was ringing, an unknown number flashed across the screen, and he frowned as he pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Thomas Adams?”

  Tommy switched the phone to his other ear. “Yes, this is him.”

  “It’s David. David Roberts.”

  “Oh.”

  His heart plummeted to his chest. David Roberts was the detective who helped with his father’s case. At the time, it helped that he was also his father’s friend, but after a while, it became too difficult, and Tommy grew increasingly resentful of David for not being able to produce results.

  It wasn’t David’s fault, Tommy knew that. Drive-by shootings happened all the time, and stick ups were even more common. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  A large ass one, at that.

  Still, the phone calls grew less until one day, they just stopped, and Tommy had given up on ever being able to catch his father’s killer.

  Tommy coughed. “Yes, hi, David. It’s been a while.”

  David exhaled. “Yes, it has. I hope you and your mom are okay.”

  “We are, thanks.”

  David sucked in a breath. “Tommy, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I think we found your father’s killer.”

  In that instant, Tommy’s heart stopped beating.

  It didn’t start back till he heard the rest of David’s sentence, and the world shifted back into focus.

  “What?” he sputtered, disbelief flooding his tone. “After all this time?”

  “Yeah, sometimes, we luck out years later. We’re going to need you to come down to the police station to identify him. Is that okay?”

  Tommy swallowed. “Yes.”

  Chapter 7

  “Hi, honey,” her mother called out, poking her head out from the kitchen. Aimee stopped in her tracks, a guilty expression on her face as she cautiously stepped into the kitchen.

  Her stomach growled in response to the delicious food that was simmering, and she smiled as she took in the pots and pans that were strewn all about. Her mother was a great cook, but more often than not, the kitchen tended to look like
a level four Hurricane passed through when she was done.

  It was one of her more endearing qualities on her good days, and an exasperating one on the bad days. Or, at least, that’s what her father claimed. Her parents did seem to have a healthy and loving relationship, and Aimee couldn’t understand why he flipped the switch with her.

  “What are you making today?”

  “Sautéed vegetables, mashed potatoes and chicken lightly sprinkled with mushroom,” her mother responded, over her shoulder as she tossed something into the pot. It sizzled and simmered as Aimee peeked curiously.

  She leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “How about I help you make a salad?”

  “Could you?” Her mother shot her a grateful expression as she turned her attention back to the food. At forty, her mother had the figure of a twenty year old, which many women her age envied. She had a light sprinkling of freckles, honey blonde hair and a pair of dark blue eyes.

  Aside from the eyes they shared, Aimee and her mother looked nothing alike. Where her mother, Gina’s hair was straight and sleek, Aimee’s was rebellious and curly. Her mother had a small figure that made her look feminine, and Aimee towered over a lot of people due to her height.

  No, Aimee looked more like her father. Growing up, she used to think it was a good thing. Now that she was older, she wondered if maybe that was why he treated her the way he did. When he looked at her, did he only see a miniature version of himself but with darker hair and boobs?

  The mere thought was slightly comical, but also sad.

  She wanted so desperately to connect with him, but she knew they might as well be speaking a different language and inhabiting different planets. Try as she might, they couldn’t find a single thing they agreed on.

  And that was saying something.

  “How are Jennifer and Sally?” Gina asked, conversationally as she stirred something in the pot. Aimee swung the fridge door open, took out some tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, peppers and sweet corn and laid them out on the counter.

  She began chopping them up. “They’re good. Sally is excited about art school, and Jennifer has finally made up her mind. She’s heading into political science.”

  Gina craned her neck, a surprised expression crossing her features. “Really? Jennifer chose political science? I thought she’d pick something like design. Isn’t she really into fashion?”

  Aimee laughed. “Yeah, I thought so too. Sally and I picked our jaws up off the ground when she told us, but she seems happy with it, and she is persistent. Stubborn too. So, it should help her go a long way.”

  Gina made a small humming noise in the back of her throat. “I guess so, and Sally’s parents are okay with her decision?”

  Aimee yanked the cupboard open with a little too much force. “Yes, some parents let their kids decide since it is their life, after all.”

  Gina sighed deeply. “I know you’re not happy with your father—”

  “That’s an understatement,” Aimee muttered.

  Gina shot her a dirty look which made Aimee bend her over and focus on the task at hand with a little too much enthusiasm.

  She could feel her mother burning holes into the back of her head, but she refused to look up, pretending instead that she found the task at hand more interesting than it actually was.

  “He loves you, honey, and I know you can’t see that because he’s hard on you, but he wants what’s best for you, so just think about that before you start arguing with him next time.”

  “He argues with me, mom,” Aimee protested. “Nothing I say or do is enough for him.”

  “That’s not true. You two are just both very stubborn. Besides, you’re his little girl, and you’re growing up, so it’s hard for him to think about that,” Gina reasoned. “Think about that next time.”

  Aimee inhaled. “I know, mom, but what if the paths he wants for me isn’t what I want for myself?”

  “You mean med school?”

  “Yeah, what if I wanted something else? Like what if I wanted to go to art school like Sally or political science like Jennifer? Or even join a baseball team like Tommy?”

  Aimee’s eyes widened, and she clamped her hands over her mouth as she realized what she’d said. She hadn’t meant to blurt out the truth. She wanted Tommy all to herself for a while, and she knew if she brought her parents into the mix, there would be none of that.

  “So is Tommy the boy you went out with yesterday for coffee?” Gina questioned, trying to conceal her curiosity.

  Aimee spun around to face her. “Mom, I know you’re dying to ask.”

  “I am, but I don’t want to pry if you don’t want to share,” Gina spoke as she reached for a towel and dried her hands. She turned to face Aimee, gesturing for her to continue.

  “He’s really nice, mom. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him.”

  “And he plays baseball? Does he know you hate it?”

  Aimee snorted. “I couldn’t hide that from anyone if I tried, but yeah, it came up, and he’s okay with it. He even offered to teach me how to play.”

  “That’s nice of him.” Gina smiled. “How did you two meet?”

  “I was hanging out with Jennifer and Sally when a bunch of guys wouldn’t leave us alone, so he stepped in.”

  “He’s a gentleman too.” Gina nodded approvingly. “And he lives close by?”

  “He lives on the other side of the tracks.”

  “He what?”

  Aimee froze, and her mother’s eyes widened into saucers as she shot her daughter an apologetic look.

  “Now, Alan before you fly off into a rage—” Gina began.

  “Fly off into a rage?” Alan, Aimee’s father said, his voice deceptively calm. “Because my daughter is dating a thug from the other side?”

  Tears stung her eyes as Aimee turned around to face her livid father. His eyes were narrowed into slits, and his hands were clenched into fists at his side.

  “He’s not a thug,” Aimee responded, hotly. “How could you say that?”

  “I don’t need to know him,” Alan said, vehemently. “And neither do you.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Yes, I can. I am your father, and I know his type. How dare you date a boy like that? We raised you better than that. How could you be so stupid?”

  “Stupid? I’m not stupid, Dad. Tommy isn’t what you say he is. He’s decent and kind. You can’t pass judgment like that without even meeting him!”

  “Yes, I can because I know better than you.”

  “No, you don’t,” Aimee shouted as she raked her hand through her hair. “You think that because you’re older that makes you wiser?”

  “It does,” Alan’s gaze narrowed even further. “And I’d watch my tone if I were you, young lady.”

  Aimee sucked in a breath as she tried to calm her erratic heartbeat and her trembling palms. Hot anger coursed through her like lava, and she tried to get herself under control.

  “Please, Dad. You haven’t even met him. Why can’t you just give him a chance first?”

  “Because I won’t have my daughter’s life be at risk like that,” he bellowed, his voice cracking like thunder. Aimee flinched as she stepped back, her features hurt.

  “Why?” Aimee asked, quietly. “What makes you think we’re better than him? Because we live on the right side of the tracks.”

  “You’re damn right. He is riff raff, and I won’t have you associating with that,” Alan retorted, sternly.

  “Associating with that?” Aimee repeated. “He’s a person. In case that’s failed to escape your attention, and do my feelings not count at all? Don’t I get a say in this?”

  “You’re too young to know what real feelings are,” Alan said, dismissively.

  “No, I’m not.” Aimee bristled with rage, each word out of her mouth dripping with venom and rage as years of pent up emotion bubbled up to the surface. “You think I am, but I’m not. You never even bother to ask how I feel, or what
I think. Everything has to be your way or the highway, and I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

  “Alan, please. You should listen to her,” Gina pleaded, stepping forward as she placed her hand on her husband’s arm. He shook it off angrily.

  “Gina, don’t indulge her. It’s time she grew up and faced the real world.”

  Hot tears slide down her cheek, and a lump rose in her throat. “See what I mean, mom? He never listens, so what’s the point?”

  She swallowed thickly. “I’m going out.”

  Before either of her parents could protest, she picked up her keys, messenger bag and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her, so the sound echoed in the house. She fished her phone out of her bag and dialed Tommy, waiting impatiently for him to answer.

  “Hey, Aimee.”

  Tommy’s warm voice washed over her, and she instantly felt calmer as she shoved her arms into her sweater, pulling it tighter around her to ward off the chill. Her feet echoed against the pavement as she headed away from her house, in no particular direction.

  “Tommy,” she choked.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was instantly alert and concerned. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I mean yes. I’m not hurt, but I’m not okay. Can we meet?”

  “Of course. I can be at the stadium in 15 minutes.”

  “Okay.” She sniffed and hung up, keeping her head bent low as she walked towards the stadium, listening to the crickets, their music filling the night air.

  ***

  As soon as she saw Tommy, her heart soared, and she went straight into his waiting arms. They both almost toppled backwards until Tommy righted them, his hands immediately wrapping themselves around her waist.

  She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of spices and clean soap. Her arms came up to wrap themselves around his neck, and they stood like that for a while, pressed against each other, with nothing but the clothes on their back separating them.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked as he ran his hands along her hair in a soothing motion.

  Her chest heaved as she shuddered and bit back a sob. “My dad.”