Tools of Ignorance: Lisa's Story

by Barbara L. Clanton

  REVEREND OWENS PREACHED, but Lisa didn’t hear. Marlee had called just before they left for church and invited her over to play catch. It was all Lisa could think about. Bridget squirmed next to her in the pew. On church days, her father was in charge of Lynnie, her mom was in charge of Lawrence Jr., and she was in charge of Bridget.

  Her mother shot her a glance as if to say, “Get that child under control.”

  Lisa nodded and pulled Bridget onto her lap. Bridget protested at first, but then Lisa produced a small picture book about kittens from her purse, and Bridget settled down a bit. Lisa went back to ignoring Reverend Owens and thinking about Marlee.

  Marlee had to be gay. How could she not be? At camp, Tara taught Lisa all about gaydar. She’d made Lisa guess who was and who wasn’t gay, and Lisa had been right every single time. Actually, they fought over whether Brandy, the shortstop from Elmira, was gay. Lisa said yes. Tara said no. Lisa supposed they’d never know who was right, but despite that one disagreement, Lisa discovered that her gaydar was fully operational. Tara told her the best clues were short hair and comfortable shoes, but Lisa had laughed then, because she herself had long hair and wore heels to church just about every Sunday. Marlee, though, fit the bill with her short-cropped blond hair and perpetual sneakers.

  Lisa sighed. Reverend Owens needed to wrap things up soon, or she would get as squirmy as Bridget. She couldn’t wait until Marlee got a look at her in her dress and heels. She’d worn the dress with the blue and white flowered print, the one that clung nicely and showed off her curves. The dress was modest enough for church, but barely. She’d wanted to show a little more cleavage, but her mother would have sent her right back inside to change. With her two-inch heels, Lisa would tower over Marlee’s five foot six. Two inches were her limit, though, because otherwise she’d turn into the Empire State Building.

  Bridget squirmed again and threw the kitten book on the floor, apparently done with it. Lisa squeezed her sister gently to send a silent message to settle down. She leaned down and picked up the book. Why did Reverend Owens have to pick that day, of all days, to be so long-winded? Lisa cheered silently when he finally held out both hands toward the congregation and said, “Go with love."

  “Go wit wuv,” Bridget echoed loudly and the people sitting near them laughed.

  Lisa smiled at the people around them, but at the same moment thought, Nah, love sucks. She laughed at herself. Yeah, right. That’s why you can’t wait to get your hands on Marlee. She stood up with a sigh. “C’mon, Sweetpea. Let’s go shake hands with Reverend Owens.”

  “Weesa?” Bridget reached for Lisa’s outstretched hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t get your heart tord up.”

  Lisa cringed. She had to watch what she said around her all-ears littlest sister. “Okay, I won’t. I promise.” Tara took care of that yesterday.

  LISA SLID OPEN the side door to the Brown family minivan and walked to the rear. She pulled out her softball bag.

  “Bye, you guys,” she called from the back. Her sister Lynnie didn’t look up from her book, but her brother Lawrence Jr. turned around, waved his transformer action figure at her, and said “Bye.”

  Her father looked her way and said, “Have fun, Lisa Bear.”

  “Papa! C’mon, I’m sixteen.”

  Her father laughed. “What? I can’t call my first-born by her pet name anymore?”

  Lisa rolled her eyes for his benefit and said, “Geez, okay. If you have to.”

  “Call when you want us to pick you up. I’d love to stay and play catch with you and Marlee, but Mama’s got me under the knife this afternoon.”

  “Oh, Larry.” Lisa’s mother smacked her husband on the knee.

  “What? You do.” Her father’s thinning brown hair was a bit disheveled, and Lisa knew her mother was going to give him a haircut later that day.

  “Bye Weesa! Member what I said, ‘kay?”

  Lisa nodded and gave her littlest sister a thumbs-up which was enthusiastically returned. She closed the rear door and then slid the side door shut.

  Lisa slung her softball bag over her shoulder and picked her way up the long gravel driveway, a harrowing task in heels. She thought it funny that her father called her his first-born. They both knew she wasn’t. Her real father, well, she preferred to think of him as her biological father, didn’t have the nerve to stay with her mother when she got pregnant during their senior year of high school. Luckily, though, Lisa’s grandparents were very supportive. When Lisa was six years old, Lawrence Brown, the man she now called Papa, entered their lives.

  Lisa didn’t even know her bio dad’s name. When she turned eighteen, her mother promised to tell her everything. At age thirteen, Lisa snuck into her parents’ bedroom to look through her mother’s high school yearbooks. She tried to pick out her bio dad from the photographs, but nobody really stood out. After a few months she stopped trying.

  Lisa almost made it all the way up Marlee’s driveway when the side door to the kitchen opened.

  “Wow.” Marlee held open the screen door. “You clean up well.”

  So do you. Marlee looked so cute with her short blond hair and perfect blue eyes. Lisa felt herself blush. She couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, this is just one of my church dresses.”

  Marlee smiled. “I’d never be caught dead in a dress.”

  I know, Lisa thought, her gaydar happily pinging away.

  Marlee held the door open for Lisa to enter. The McAllisters always used the side door that opened into their large country kitchen. The Brown family kitchen, by contrast, was modern day mayhem. Four kids and two grownups in one small house tended to do that. Marlee didn’t talk about it too much, but her father had passed away when she was in middle school. Lisa always felt kind of sad for Marlee in that regard, because even though Lisa’s bio dad chose not to be a part of her life, at least she had a stepfather who treated her like his own.

  Lisa set her softball bag on the kitchen table and unzipped it. She pulled out a P&C grocery sack with some practice clothes. “Where can I change?”

  “Oh, follow me.” Marlee led the way down a narrow hallway off the kitchen. “Here.” She pointed to an open bathroom door.

  “Okay, I’ll just be a minute.”

  Lisa’s hands shook as she changed clothes. She scolded herself. She was there to play catch. That was it. Nothing was going to happen. Marlee wasn’t going to pull her into the garage or take her up to her bedroom and seduce her like Tara had. Lisa groaned. No, she wouldn’t think about Tara. Tara could stay in Long Island with the rest of her hoodlums.

  Lisa shoved her clothes into the grocery sack knowing she should have at least folded her dress, but she couldn’t wait. She adjusted the sports bra under her Rockville softball camp T-shirt and shrugged on her Clarksonville sweatshirt.

  “That was fast,” Marlee said from the kitchen.

  “Anything to get out of that dress, eh?”

  “Hey, do you want something to drink?” Marlee opened a cupboard and pulled out a glass.

  “Nah, maybe later after we’ve worked up a sweat.”

  “Sounds good.” Marlee yelled up the stairs, “Mom? Lisa and I are going to play catch outside, okay?”

  “Okay.” She peeked down the stairs and said, “Hello, Lisa. How are you?”

  “Fine thanks. How are you?”

  “Good, except for all this housework.” She laughed. “You girls have fun. I’ll be changing sheets and doing laundry if you need me.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Marlee headed toward the door. “I’ll help you fold later, okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Outside, they stretched their muscles on the side lawn near the big oak tree. A truck tire swung to and fro in the mid-April breeze.

  “Bridget and Lawrence Jr. would love this tire swing.” Lisa stretched her throwing arm behind her head one last time.

  “You should bring them over some day to use it. I haven’t used it since…”

  Marlee
didn’t finish her sentence. She was probably thinking about her father, so Lisa quickly changed the subject. “So what did you end up doing with Bobby yesterday?”

  “Oh, uh,” Marlee hesitated, “we just hung out. Nothing special.” Marlee ran a hand through her hair.

  Lisa could tell that Marlee wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she didn’t press it. “Hey, let’s work on that rise ball of yours. You almost took out that East Valley left fielder on Tuesday, you know.”

  “I know.” Marlee rolled her eyes, but then a fleeting expression crossed her face.

  Lisa wasn’t sure how to interpret the look, so she said, “I can’t believe we lost. I mean, are we ever going to beat East Valley?”

  “I predict we’re going to kick some East Valley Panther butt next time we play them.”

  “Oh, yeah? How are we going to do that? We play them on their field next time. And their field looks like Yankee Stadium.”

  “More like Citifield, if you don’t mind.” Marlee looked offended, but Lisa knew she was kidding.

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re a Mets fan, aren’t you?” Lisa took her mitt off and reached for her chest protector from her softball bag.

  “Yeah, and you’re Yankees, right?”

  Lisa nodded and playfully narrowed her eyes. “I think we have to tell Coach Spears that this, uh, pitching and catching thing isn’t going to work out for us anymore.”

  Marlee laughed. “Oh, man, can you imagine? Hey, Coach Spears, Lisa and I have to break up because Mets and Yankees fans can’t see eye to eye on anything.”

  Lisa almost choked when Marlee said, “break up.” Lisa felt her cheeks getting hot, so she turned away. She put the chest protector over her head.

  “Let me help you with your shinnies.” Marlee kneeled down to strap on the right shin guard while Lisa adjusted the chest protector. Lisa tried to act calm and cool while Marlee reached behind her leg to fasten the straps, but she couldn’t get her knees to stop shaking. She prayed Marlee didn’t notice.

  “I’ll—” Lisa choked on the word, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I’ll do the other one. Thanks. Oh, hey,” Lisa tried to find more neutral ground, “Julie, Johnna, Kerry, and I went to see Ellen Page’s movie last night.”

  “How was it?” Marlee pulled a softball out of the bag.

  “It was really good, but you have to see it for yourself. I’d definitely go again.” Way to be obvious, dorkhead. Lisa cringed, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Marlee tossed Lisa the ball. “Yeah, my mom wants to see it, too.”

  Wrong answer, Marlee, totally wrong answer. Lisa sighed. “That’s cool.” But not really.

  “Yeah, maybe Jeri’ll want to go, too.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Lisa said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  They threw the ball back and forth overhand for a few minutes to warm up their arms.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to pitch,” Lisa said.

  “I’m ready. I’ll keep the bag of balls by me because I’m sure I’ll throw most of them over your head.”

  Lisa laughed and moved behind the home plate that Marlee had put in on the side lawn near the garage. Coach Spears had given Marlee an old home plate and pitching rubber the year before, so they could practice at Marlee’s house any time. Lisa remained standing while Marlee stood about twenty feet away and flicked the ball to her with her wrist only. After a few minutes of wrist work, Marlee backed up to the pitching rubber forty feet away.

  “Okay, Marlee. Let’s loosen up with meatball fastballs right down the middle of the plate.”

  Lisa squatted down and flashed the sign for fastball by closing the fist on her right hand and then flicking her index finger toward the ground. Lisa felt self-conscious having Marlee stare right at her crotch for the signs, but this was softball and that’s the way it was.

  Marlee’s first pitch landed in the dirt. Lisa blocked the ball with her shin guards. “Geez, Marlee, don’t take me out on the first pitch.”

  “Sorry.” Marlee grinned.

  Marlee’s next few pitches were nice and fat in the strike zone. Once Lisa felt Marlee was warmed up enough, she said, “Okay, let’s work the ladder.”

  Marlee nodded.

  Lisa flashed the fastball sign and positioned her mitt low and inside nearest a right-handed batter. The ladder had three ‘rungs’ to it—knee height, waist height, and chest height. After working Marlee through a few knee-height pitches, Lisa worked up the rungs of the invisible ladder by positioning her mitt at waist height for a few pitches and then finally at chest height. She then shifted to the outside of the plate and worked Marlee back through the three rungs, but in reverse order.

  Smack! Marlee’s pitch popped into Lisa’s mitt at the desired spot.

  “Nice.” Lisa stood up. “Where was all of this on Tuesday?” She walked toward Marlee, so she could stretch her legs a bit.

  “I know. I can’t believe Susie hit a grand slam off of me.”

  She knows her name. This isn’t good. Lisa’s gaydar went on high alert. “Do you know her?”

  “Oh, no. No,” Marlee stumbled and ran her fingers through her short hair.

  Lisa’s gaydar had gone off big time on Tuesday when the cute East Valley left fielder got up to bat, so maybe, just maybe, Marlee was crossing over to the lavender ladies club. Lisa decided to push it.

  “Did you see that blonde second baseman of theirs? Wasn’t she pretty?”

  “Yeah, she was.” The relief on Marlee’s face at the change of subject was obvious, and Lisa began to worry that this Susie person might be her competition.

  “That second baseman doesn’t really look like a softball player, you know? She looks more like a cheerleader or something.” Lisa’s stomach had done a flip-flop when the pretty blonde spoke to her during their last game.

  “Yeah, she does look like a cheerleader.”

  “Hey, no law says you can’t be both, right? A cheerleader and a softball player?”

  “Yeah, really.” Marlee smiled and then rolled her eyes. “Man, that whole East Valley team is good. Christy Loveland’s an awesome pitcher.”

  “Do you have rise ball envy?”

  Marlee burst out laughing. “I don’t know. I just might.”

  Lisa headed back to her catcher’s spot, “Hey, you and I both know that great pitching will beat good pitching, so let’s work on that rise ball of yours and make you great.”

  “No pressure there, Lisa.” Marlee set up on her pitching rubber. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Supersonic back spin, Marlee. Make this thing defy gravity. Let the spin do the work.” Lisa squatted down. “Oh, and remember what Coach said about your stride length? Long and aggressive to keep your weight back. Okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

  Lisa flashed the sign for rise ball and positioned her mitt in the middle of the strike zone. Marlee’s pitched sailed right over Lisa’s head and smashed into the garage. “Marlee, you used your shoulder to muscle that ball to me. Coach Spears said the spin is the key to the rise. C’mon, try again. Keep your weight back.”

  Marlee and Lisa worked on Marlee’s rise ball until all the balls from the bag had successfully hit the garage.

  “Lisa, I’m worn out. Let’s call it a day, okay? We’ll work on this at practice tomorrow”

  “Okay. We made a lot of progress, though.”

  Marlee frowned.

  “No, really. We did.” They walked side-by-side to the garage and picked up the balls. Lisa was disappointed that their session was over, but knew it had to end sometime. “We need to work on that screwball of yours, too.”

  “Oh, yeah. We’ll have to do that during practice, too, I guess.” Marlee put the last ball in the bag. “Hey, let me ask my mom if I can drive you home.”

  Lisa’s heart did a flip. Would they finally be alone?

  “I could use the practice driving.”

  Lisa’s heart sank. Oh, yeah. Marlee
only had her permit, and Marlee’s mom would be in the car as the licensed driver.

  “Thanks,” Lisa said. “That’d be great.”

  Lisa took off her gear while Marlee ran into the house to ask her mother. Geez, Marlee, how can I tell you I want to be alone with you? That I want to run my fingers through your hair like you do when you’re nervous? How can I tell you these things if we’re never alone? But what the hell would I do if I ever got you alone?

  That was the kagillion dollar question.

  Chapter Three

  Bring It On

  LISA SAT IN the backseat of Jeri D’Amico’s brand new Mustang, ecstatic that Marlee invited her to go with them to East Valley to see a softball game. Apparently Jeri and Marlee had been hanging out with the East Valley team recently.

  In one short week, several amazing things had happened for Lisa. For one thing, Marlee finally broke up with her boyfriend. He broke up with her, actually, but the result was the same. The next great thing was that their softball team beat Northwood on Tuesday and then beat Racquette that afternoon, giving them a winning record. Well, to be fair, beating both Northwood and Racquette wasn’t that amazing because they weren’t very good. Marlee’s pitching overwhelmed most of the batters on both teams, but the third and most awesome thing was that Marlee asked her to go with them to East Valley. She and Marlee, oh, and Jeri, too, were going to watch a game and then go to an East Valley player’s house afterward to hang out.

  Lisa tried to stretch her long legs in the cramped backseat, but couldn’t quite do it. Oh, well, she’d have to suck it up for the forty-five minute trip. She was with Marlee, after all, so it was okay.

  Marlee sat in the front seat and confided in Jeri and Lisa about her now ex-boyfriend Bobby. “Did you know that I could never get him to understand the infield fly rule? I mean he’s a jock, so how can he not understand a simple rule like that?”

  Lisa didn’t dare say anything, but the infield fly rule was far from simple. There had to be less than two outs, a force play at third or at home, and the ball had to be catchable. Bobby didn’t even play baseball, just football, so he might not know the rule.