“How did the writing competition go?”
And just like Beth, he’ll avoid the bleeding elephant in the room. “I won.”
If he weren’t so tired, the smile on his face would appear natural. “Congratulations. How did your team do against Eastwick?”
“They won too.” Just like I knew they would. They’re a great team and I’m proud to be a part of them.
“Good.”
Difference between me and the Risks? I have no problems discussing elephants. “How is Beth’s mother?”
“She’s alive.”
I pause. “How’s Beth?”
Scott shakes his head. Silence falls between us, but we both jerk our heads toward the room when we hear a muffled sob. Beth is breaking my heart and from the pain tearing across Scott’s face, she’s doing the same to his. More silence between us. A sniff comes from the room and my fingers itch to hold Beth and somehow right her world. I won’t let her use this as an excuse to run. I’ll talk to her and make her realize that now is the time to involve Scott.
“Elisabeth says that you’re trying to decide between college and pro,” he says.
I nod. The choice is harder now that I’ve won the competition.
“Can I give you some unsolicited advice?” he asks.
I tilt my head up. “I’d love your advice.”
“Decide what baseball means to you, because if you’re playing to make money, then you’ll be sadly disappointed. Only a small percent of drafted players ever play a day in the majors and you’d make more working at McDonald’s than you will playing in the minors.”
A nurse passes between us and I let the back of my head hit the wall. “You went pro.”
“When I was eighteen, baseball was my only option. From what Elisabeth says you have several options. If baseball is what you want more than anything, then it will be worth the sacrifice. If going pro is a means to an end, I’m telling you the odds are against you.”
Then Scott gets that crazy gleam in his eye.
The gleam I understand. “If baseball is what you live by, breathe in, and die for, I’m telling you that you’ll need the rush of running out onto that field. I’ve never experienced anything else like it.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. His comments are well received, but not helpful. I’m nowhere closer to making a decision. Out of the corner of my eye I peek into the room. Beth’s eyes meet mine.
“Spend time with her,” says Scott. “But Elisabeth goes home with me.”
Beth
SCOTT’S HAND ON MY BACK urges me forward as I watch my aunt Shirley drive away with my mom. It’s late, I guess. The sun has set. Stars twinkle in the sky. Ryan has come and gone, though I could tell he didn’t want to leave. He loves me. I know that. I somehow wonder if his love is the only thing that’s kept me from losing my mind.
“Let’s go home,” Scott says.
Home. My room with my clothes and my box of Lucky Charms in the pantry. Home. It can be my home if Scott will help my mom.
The red taillights of Shirley’s car disappear as she turns left onto the main street.
I exhale all the air out of my body and turn to Scott. “We need to talk.”
He nods in agreement as he hooks an arm around my shoulder. Three months ago, I would have decked him for touching me.
Now, I welcome the embrace. With exhaustion weakening my knees, I lean into my uncle.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Scott continues to lead me to his car. “You’re dead on your feet.”
We’re halfway to his car when a moment of déjà vu hits me. Like I’m seeing something that I’ve seen before—a memory in slow motion. I jerk my head to the right and realize that it’s not a memory, but reality.
I flinch to a stop and Scott halts along with me. “What’s wrong?”
“Isaiah,” I say not to Scott, but to myself.
My best friend is here.
Leaning against the hood of his black Mustang, Isaiah watches Scott and me from a distance. He dips his head when he spots me looking at him. I step toward him and Scott grabs my arm. “No, Elisabeth.”
My head whips. “Just for a second. Just one second. Please.”
His grip loosens at the word please. When he finally releases me, I sway. I’m worn out—physically, emotionally, but I dig for strength. I have to talk to Isaiah.
Isaiah stays where he is, not even bothering to me meet me halfway, and speaks before I reach him. “Shirley told me about your mom. Are you okay?”
His question stops me about a car’s distance from him. Hurt pours out of his eyes, and every muscle in my abdomen clenches. My close proximity actually causes him pain and that fact slaps me in the face.
“Yes,” I answer, then think about it. “No. She’s addicted to heroin.”
Isaiah glances away and a lead ball drops into my stomach. “You knew.”
He meets my eyes again. “She’s bad news, Beth. You’re not going to change her.”
She will change. Scott will help me. I know it. “How are you?”
“I’m surviving.” Isaiah surveys the night sky, then pushes away from his car. “Have a nice life.”
“Isaiah…” I say, unsure of how to make us better. “This isn’t goodbye.”
“Yeah,” he answers as he unlocks his driver’s-side door. “It is.”
“If you believed that you wouldn’t be here now.” I’m energized by a second wind as my words sink in. “We’re friends. For life.”
He rubs a hand over his face before sliding into his car, shutting the door, and turning over his engine with an angry growl.
The brief burst of energy drains from me, starting in my head and seeping out through my toes. It hurts to know that I’ve caused Isaiah pain, but someday he’ll really fall in love and discover that all we’ve ever been is friends.
I OPEN MY EYES AND CURSE. This is twice I’ve gone pathetic, fallen asleep, and Scott has had to carry me in. Just like the first night in this house, the blanket is tucked around me and my shoes are neatly placed near the bed. It’s dark and I don’t bother looking at the clock. I toss aside the blanket, climb out of bed, and head into the foyer.
In the kitchen, Scott sits at the island and stares at the countertop. I flop onto the cushy leather couch. I’ve lived in this house for three months and I’ve never sat here. “Nice couch.”
“It’s about time you tried it out,” Scott says.
He wears a Yankees T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Scott acts so grown-up at times I forget that he’s not even thirty yet. He slips off the stool and joins me in the living room. “Want to fill me in on Trent?”
“No.”
“Let me rephrase. Fill me in on Trent.”
Scott did hit the bastard. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try to find the simplest and fastest explanation. “The fucking asshole is the spawn of Satan and someone needs to stake the bastard in the heart, shred him to pieces, then set the pieces on fire.”
“Or take a swing at his head with a baseball bat?”
“Or that.” I smile weakly and Scott gives the same weak smile back. I told Ryan I’d stay. I finger the smooth material of the ribbon tied around my wrist. “Why did you leave us? You didn’t just leave me. You left Mom too.”
“Are you ready to discuss this calmly or are you looking for a screaming match?”
“Talk.” I think.
“When I left Groveton, I meant what I said. I fully intended to come back for you. I know I was young, but I loved you as if you were my own.”
I loved him like he was my father. I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them.
“Then why didn’t you come back?”
“Because…” He starts and stops several times as the words catch in his mouth.
“Because I wouldn’t have made it out if I did. I couldn’t take you on the road with me and if I chose you then I would have had to quit baseball.
“If I stayed in Groveton, I have no doubt I would have become my father. Your dad swore to me he’d never be Dad, and the day he graduated from high school he turned into the same bastard our father was. I didn’t want trailer parks and I didn’t want girls hooked on drugs and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life hurting the people I said I loved. If I stayed, I would have become my father and one day I would have hurt you.”
I shake my head. Scott would never have hurt me. He wasn’t capable of it.
“I was so damned scared that when I began to run, I couldn’t stop. I was scared to face you again. Scared if I saw you, I’d stay and turn into my father.”
Scott swears and holds his hands together as if in prayer. I bite my lip when his voice cracks. “When you first moved here—every time I looked at you I saw the old man. I saw his anger coming out of your eyes. I saw your father’s bitterness wrapped up inside of you. As much as I’ve hated myself for leaving you behind, I don’t regret it. If I’d stayed I would have never broken free and all of that anger and bitterness I see in you would have been inside of me.”
I know the anger and bitterness he’s talking about. They’re the chains that weigh me down and threaten to drown me daily–at least until I found Ryan. But those chains returned with one phone call from Shirley and they’re slipping tighter around my throat. “Yay for you. You broke free and I got screwed.”
Scott leans forward. “I know it seems that way, but I broke free for you, too. I fucked up.
I should have come back when I signed with the Yankees and dragged you to New York with me. I didn’t and I’m sorry, but I’m here now and this…” He holds his hands out and motions at the house. “This is your break, kid.
This is your baseball. All you have to do is trust me and take it. Whatever you want, it’s yours, but you have to let the past go.”
Scott is talking about hope and hope is a myth. He acts like it would be easy to leave Mom. As if I could effortlessly hand over the demons in my nightmares and somehow with the swish of a magic wand, everything would be okay. “What about Mom?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he stares at a thin scar on his right hand where he told me Grandpa had cut him with a knife when he was a kid. “She’s not my responsibility and she’s not yours either.”
“No. That’s where you’re wrong. Mom is my responsibility. It’s my fault that she’s miserable.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Whatever. I’ve been thinking, maybe you could give her some money. We could put her in one of those rehab places and when she’s clean we could move her someplace nicer.
Mom used to work and we could get her another job. She’s been down for so long and I know she keeps Trent because he has money. If you help her, I’m sure she can get better.”
“I can’t.”
My head snaps back as if he slapped me.
“What do you mean you can’t?” I did it. I came to him for help. I’m trusting him and he’s throwing it back in my face?