Curveball

by Teresa Michaels

  “Oh my God, are you alright?” I ask, concerned.

  He doesn’t answer me; he just clasps his hands over the area I probably landed on and keeps his eyes clenched shut. Crap, I hope I didn’t break his ribs or something, I think as I appraise him from head to toe. I gently place my hand over his but he winces at my touch, so I pull back and instead inspect his shoulder where I assume I struck him.

  “Shit. I am so sorry, Drew.”

  “Well, we made it down,” he grunts. I watch Drew roll to his side and push himself to a sitting position with his left arm, before using it to gingerly massage his right shoulder and collarbone.

  “I swear that huge melon of yours is going to end my pitching career,” he says, again inferring that my head is abnormally large.

  I’m not sure what comes over me just then. Maybe it’s the reference likening me to a caricature, or the image I’ve concocted that’s playing on repeat in my head of me bouncing in the air after my ass slammed into his stomach. Maybe the concussion has done permanent damage; I’m not sure. What I do know is that I can’t fight the fit of hysteria that creeps up on me without warning and takes over. I fall back onto the bed of leaves covering the ground and drape my arm across my face to shield my eyes as I enjoy my private joke and laugh so hard that I actually cry.

  “Thanks so much for your compassion,” Drew barks in a strained, but amused tone. “You know I could have internal bleeding!”

  “I’m so sss,” I attempt to apologize, but end up hissing while I continue to laugh uncontrollably.

  I lift my arm a smidge and find that he’s now rubbing his abdomen, which causes another round of giggles to escape. This is absurd, I think! I try several times to explain what I find so funny but fail. This whole situation is so unbelievable I can’t quite find the words to describe how any of it feels. Lying on the forest ground in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fog and hysterically laughing seems completely inappropriate, and yet refreshing at the same time. And because he either feels the same way or because he thinks I’ve lost my mind he joins in, flopping back on the ground next to me, which only adds to the madness.

  “I really am sorry. I got dizzy and lost my footing,” I explain when I finally regain my composure.

  “Don’t be. I had a feeling you would fall,” he admits as he rolls on his side to face me. “I’m just glad we weren’t further up the tree when it happened,” he says.

  He reaches across me and starts picking leaves out of my hair, staring attentively at them as he does. I return the favor by plucking a leaf that’s sticking out from behind his ear and smile at him as he tucks a loose strand back into my messy mane.

  “Really, are you alright?” I ask. When he meets my gaze his eyes burn with intensity, but I can’t quite read his expression. I knit my brows in concern; maybe he’s hurt and not telling me.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replies reassuringly, though his breathing is heavy. His hand continues moving through my hair, rounding the back of my head and rests when he’s cupping the side of my face. “How’s your head?” he asks, but I can’t answer.

  His eyes have me in a trance and I find my breathing mirroring his. I force myself to look away and open my mouth to answer only to find myself staring at his mouth. He has perfect lips and I start wondering what they taste like. A surge of warm energy has spiraled out from my stomach and chest, leaving me winded. I fight the urge to kiss him and try to focus though I secretly wonder if my lips still work. It’s been so long. I wonder if he feels the same way…I seriously doubt it.

  I know he asked me a question, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was. I shake my head for clarity and instantly regret it. The quick movement, though subtle, releases a small wave of pain from inside. Raising my hand to my forehead, I clench my eyes shut and rub the area. As the wave recedes, I’m vaguely aware of Drew placing a kiss on the top of my head.

  Drew helps me to my feet. When I’m steady, we both acknowledge that a bio break is in order. We find trees close in proximity, but in opposite directions so that we can have some form of privacy. It’s odd, but even this small distance between us causes me anxiety so I try to be fast. Crouching outside to go to the bathroom is such an uncomfortable experience. Under any circumstances it’s unpleasant. Add in the cold air that bites at my exposed skin and it’s downright unbearable. Shivering, I’m jealous that Drew doesn’t even have to drop his pants. As I’m standing to pull up my pants I hear Drew walking in my direction so I scramble to zip my fly.

  “It’s good that we’re so comfortable with each other, you know. It’ll make our new lives as farmers in Idaho a breeze.”

  I round the tree and stare at him, puzzled. “Our new lives?” I ask.

  “In the witness protection program,” he states flatly, as if it’s obvious. “I’ll offer to milk the cows, but you’ll have to shovel the manure. I figure changing diapers can’t be that different so it shouldn’t be a problem for you. Any ideas for names?”

  My eyes grow wide and my mouth falls open. Could that really be a possibility? I hadn’t really thought about anything besides our current objective, but I guess if they don’t find the people responsible it could be a reality.

  “I know. We could be the Walsh’s from 90210. That was the only show we had in common. I think they were originally from the mid-west so it would be fitting,” Drew suggests, clearly forgetting that I didn’t select that show as a preference.

  “You don’t really think,” I start to question but he cuts me off.

  “It was a joke! I’m kidding.” I wondered what kind of mood he’d be in today. Thank the lord he’s chatty.

  “Oh, good,” I tell him, exaggerating my relief. “Because I have three kids and the Walsh’s only had two. And I don’t have twins.”

  “Alright, who then?” he challenges me to find something better.

  “What about that family from ‘Growing Pains’?” I ask and then remember they had two boys and one girl…I think. This is harder than I thought, but it’s a good diversion. Drew tosses out several other TV families, none of which work until he suggests the Keaton’s from ‘Family Ties’.

  “Wasn’t that set in the 60’s or 70’s?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. That’s more your time period than mine,” he mocks. He totally thinks I’m old! “Plus, most people probably haven’t heard of the show so they wouldn’t question our names.”

  “Clearly you know something about the show if you suggested it,” I counter and he smiles.

  “Fine, I used to watch re-runs with my grandmother,” he concedes. “So your son will be Alex, and the girls will be Mallory and Jennifer. I can’t remember the parent’s names but we can look that up eventually. Until then, I’ll call you Mrs. Keaton,” he says, offering me a hand while I step over a fallen tree.

  “Why thank you, Mr. Keaton,” I reply, taking his hand and enjoying the few seconds of contact. “Wait. Didn’t they have a fourth kid, a boy, before the show ended?”

  “Hmm, I think you’re right. But it’s too late to change now, I’m attached to my new name,” he jokes. “Besides, I can think of a solution for that,” he tells me with a wink.

  “Right. We’ll have a child together so that our fake family can be legit. Great idea.”

  “I know.” I shake my head at him and chuckle.

  “What if we had a girl? Our cover would be blown for nothing.”

  “Something tells me it would be worth it,” he replies with a heart-stopping stare that makes my internal temperature rise, and then he rechecks his compass.

  Drew points in the direction we need to travel and begins walking again while I struggle to keep pace. We are still sheathed in forest but there are peaks and valleys in all directions, making navigation slightly more difficult. The thick fog blanketing the forest floor limits our visibility to only a couple of feet in each direction, and the moist air has made the leaves slippery. Coupled with the terrain that is slightly rockier than the day before, I lose my be
arings several times and have to brace myself by grabbing onto his arm. I’m about to ask him to slow down and admit I’m struggling with my balance, when he links his arm around mine.

  “What do you think it will really be like when we get back?” I ask.

  “You mean when we find help or after that?”

  “After,” I clarify.

  “I don’t know. I’d guess there’ll be a lot of people who’ll want our story,” he says nonchalantly.

  “Like who?”

  “Reporters,” he shrugs. “Every major news agency is going to be pining for a chance to get our exclusive interview. I’ll bet Oprah and Barbara Walters come knocking down our doors,” he says with a wink.

  The thought of my life being on display for everyone to watch horrifies me. I cherish my privacy. The last thing I’d ever want is to be in the public eye. I picture photographers camped outside my house, stalking my kids on their way to school, and I cringe at the thought. I regard Drew who is trying to read my expression and I’m reminded of how different our worlds really are. Being in the public eyes is nothing new to him; he might even enjoy it.

  “Just don’t forget your tissues,” I tease. “I hear Babs can bring even the strongest men to tears.”

  “Oh, I bet you’ll crack first,” he insists.

  “That’s unlikely,” I reply. By his expression I can tell he thinks I’m just being playfully overconfident. “You’ll have to give the ladies my best. You couldn’t pay me enough to do interviews,” I explain.

  He eyes me, weighing my response carefully, and to my surprise gives a response I hadn’t anticipated.

  “We can work with my PR people to send out a note on our behalf. Something like, ‘at this time Drew and Breanne request the publics support while they privately deal with the tragic events they recently experienced’. How does that sound?” he asks.

  “Too perfect,” I reply suspiciously. “You’d really turn down interviews?”

  Drew eyes me quizzically. “It’s not really my story to tell. It’s ours. Well, at least we’re the only ones who can tell it.” He pauses. “Eventually, I’ll have to say something about what happened, but I’m sure we won’t be able to say much of anything to anyone while it’s an open investigation,” he finishes.

  “When the time comes, I’ll be fine with whatever you want to tell; accept about my ass breaking your ribs,” I quip.

  “No deal,” he snorts. “But I think we can both agree that any money we receive that is in any way related to the crash should go to the other passenger’s families. If you ever need money I have more than I can use.”

  “I agree. Though, I would never take your money either.”

  For the next few hours we discuss random things. It can’t be later than 10:30am but I am so tired I want to lie down and go to sleep in a pile of wilting foliage. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of seeing three tiny faces; faces I won’t see soon enough if I don’t keep moving. I rack my brain for something interesting to talk about because the sports discussion is boring me to tears. Luckily, the constant thought of sleep triggers a topic.

  “Can I ask you something?” I interrupt his lesson on the history of the Red Sox.

  “Of course,” Drew answers.

  “On the plane yesterday you eluded to having a heavy rotation of women.” From under my lashes I toss him a sideways glance, pausing for confirmation. He gives me a sheepish nod followed by a perplexed glare. “I’m just trying to figure out how you knew you were next to me when you woke up?”

  “Easy,” he replies confidently. “I was freezing and sore. Plus, you’re the only one I’ve held since Amber left me, and that was years ago. To be honest, I can’t remember ever holding her.”

  “So the girl who turned you off from relationships has a name?”

  “I must have slipped; I typically use other choice names to describe her,” he says, and I laugh because I can imagine what they are, despite not knowing the details of their breakup.

  “Wait, so you’re saying you send women packing after you sleep with them,” I ask in disgust.

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he counters. “I don’t kick anyone out. But I’m not all lovey-dovey either. I’ve never wanted anything more than what the night brings, and if I were to be affectionate it would blur the boundaries I’ve set. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Why make things more complicated than they need to be?” he explains.

  “So what do you do after…you know?” I ask and wish I hadn’t. I don’t think I want to know this.

  His face reveals he’s not sure he should share and I’m almost relieved, until he laughs. “I’m aware this is going to sound messed up. In fact, I’m just now realizing that I have actually lied. Anyway, I use my old injury as an excuse. I put a pillow in the middle of the bed and rest my arm on it. Sometimes I even ice if they push the issue,” he shrugs.

  I consider this for a moment. “That seems a bit harsh and completely different from the person I’ve experienced.”

  As I say this I think of how thoughtful and caring he has been with me. I find it difficult to imagine him being any other way. Yes, he came on to me when we were on the plane, but that feels like a lifetime ago. I honestly doubt he meant anything by it. He probably views me as a friend, if anything. He has a playful personality and was probably just trying to kill time. Plus, I can’t say that I’ve minded.

  “So if that’s not your MO then why did you hold me?” I find myself asking before I can stop the words from leaving my mouth.

  “Maybe I’m just different when I’m with you.”

  “Probably because you’ve gotten to know me, sober, and you’re not trying to get into my pants!” I exclaim.

  The corners of his mouth curve up slightly.

  “That’s not it,” he says. “Yeah, we’ve talked a lot, but,” he trails off.

  We walk a few feet further in silence when suddenly Drew stops. He drops my arm and stuffs his hands in his pant pockets as he turns to face me.

  “It’s not just that,” he sighs, looking away. “You’re not like any woman I’ve met,” he confesses. “You saw right threw me from the beginning. I’ve never been challenged that way or had to explain myself. Women typically take my words at face value,” he laughs, and I picture surgically enhanced women in their early 20’s drooling over him, eating up every line he doles out.

  Facing me again, he continues, “It’s just that I usually only give as much information as a situation requires. But I know that’s not going to work with you.”

  “So what you mean is I’m a pain in the ass,” I state wryly.

  “No,” he annunciates slowly, like he’s lost his patience with me. “I actually want you to know me. I know we’ve just met, but I meant it when I said that you already know more about me than anyone else.”

  “I feel the same way,” I say, and start walking. Staring at the sticks and leaves crunching under my feet I force myself to ignore the effect his words have on me, particularly on my body. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  He’s quiet and I wonder if he’s actually going to answer. Then it dawns on me that maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe it was pity from my confession and multiple breakdowns.

  “It was the only thing I could do that made me feel like I had any control over our situation. I wanted to comfort you. I had no idea how right,” he abruptly stops talking and clears his throat. “I guess I needed comfort too.”

  “Oh.” I’m left wondering what else he was going to say.

  “Did you know where you were when you woke up?” Drew probes, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Yeah, I knew,” I admit. “My head was pounding and when you moved it was too cold to imagine I was anywhere else.” I think back to those first moments after I woke, when he said my name. “The first thought that crossed my mind was wondering what my kid’s night must have been like. Then I felt guilty.”