Moving Forward: A Baseball Romance

by Kim Jones

  The truth will set you free? Or something to that effect.

  He had to believe it could do the same here.

  The rest of his practice session hadn’t gone much better once Aimee left. Despite the knot in his stomach, and every bone in his body screaming at him to run after her, he’d stood there, motionless and inert, refusing to give in to his base desire.

  Not until he’d sorted through the mess in his head.

  Unfortunately for him, that meant that when he’d turned around and gone back to practice, his playing got worse. Progressively worse. It was like watching a train wreck, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen that the coach grew increasingly more frustrated as he threw his clipboard on the floor and kicked the dust around him, cursing loud enough for everyone to hear. They’d all flinched and pretended they couldn’t hear him. Like ostriches burying their head in the sand.

  Tommy, in particular, felt guilty. He understood the importance of separating his personal life from his professional one. To be a good athlete, he had to go out onto the field, give it his all and leave 110% of his guts out there, or he wouldn’t be worth much.

  So, why couldn’t he seem to do it? He’d detached himself easily enough before. Why is it that this one girl he’d known for barely a week could have such a profound impact on him?

  It made no logical sense, and he gritted his teeth angrily. Regardless of the reason, he needed to talk to her. To see if they could sift through this mess together. Something he wasn’t looking forward to considering he wasn’t a lover. He was no fighter either to be sure. He just was.

  Tommy Adams, a regular joe trying to play a game he loved.

  The messed-up part was that he didn’t mean a single thing he said. In reality, he’d projected how he thought she must feel. Aimee had her own problems, but they weren’t like his, and on some level, he suspected she felt that way, so he’d lashed out.

  Of course, deep down, he knew she didn’t. She’d never given any indication that she considered him as anything more or less than the man she liked. Still, he’d known exactly what to say to drive a stake through her heart and twist it deeper till her eyes glinted crimson red, and her mouth twisted like she’d tasted something rancid.

  He’d never considered himself capable of being cruel, but his reaction to his dad’s killer had him second guessing himself. The guilt was eating him up inside though, so he had to consider that a good sign. If he had no remorse, he wouldn’t feel this way.

  Desperate to make amends, he paused and pulled out his phone, staring for what seemed like ages at her name in his contact list, that everything else faded into the background. He wasn’t aware of the cacophony of voices around him nor the scenery.

  The rest of the world seemed to slow down and zero in on the tiny screen he held in his hand. As if his entire life depended on one single phone call. He imagined calling her, hearing her voice as she answered, the disappointment and caution intermingling together. Would she agree to see him immediately, or would she resist at first then eventually cave?

  There was another possibility. One he didn’t want to entertain. Was it possible she’d refuse to see him altogether and hang up in his face after giving him a taste of his own medicine? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  His finger hovered over the call button, but a sound in the distance brought the world back into sharper focus. Pinpricks of fear danced across his spine as a gunshot rang out behind him. Every muscle in his body froze as he slowly turned around, the grocery bag falling from his arm, the contents scattering all over the sidewalk.

  Was he dreaming?

  The entire scenario had a dreamlike quality to it, but it felt more familiar than that. The metallic smell of blood hung in the air and before he knew it, he’d dropped to the floor, crawling away from the sound, towards the closest shelter he could find.

  His mind scrambled to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him. He was supposed to be on his way home, to talk to Aimee and have dinner with his mother. Why was this happening again?

  Tommy became painfully aware of the sound of his shallow breathing, and he placed his hand atop his mouth to quiet himself down. A light tremor went through his body, one he couldn’t control, and he couldn’t stop the fear from pumping through his body, causing every nerve to be on high alert.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes open rather than shutting them, and placed his hands over his ears to block out the noise. He needed to be aware and present while this was happening. He didn’t know why it was important, he just knew that it was.

  His eyes darted across the sidewalk, and he noticed the glass mirror in the shop in front of him. He took a deep breath and focused on the reflections. There were several people on the ground in the fetal position and many others peeking out from behind walls or dumpsters.

  Tommy imagined he looked a lot like them. Shell shocked and with the blood drained from their faces, they looked like frightened deer caught in the headlights. In a sense, he supposed they were. A lump formed in his throat when he saw a man dressed in a black ski mask and all black outfit walk up, brandishing his gun about.

  More gunshots rang out, and Tommy flinched as he watched a body crumple to the ground, sputtering and gasping as blood oozed forth from a stomach wound. Tommy could feel the scream trapped in his throat, his desperate plea for the masked men to just go away and leave them alone.

  They hadn’t done anything wrong.

  The woman who’d been shot spasmed violently at first then it began to dim, and Tommy watched in the mirror as the life drained away from her, and her body stopped moving altogether.

  Shit.

  He needed to get out of here. He couldn’t die like this. Not here. Not today. There was still so much he wanted to do with his life, like send his mom on a trip to Paris, and wake up next to Aimee. He wanted these things so much, he could practically see them happening, but that vision was rapidly slipping away with each shot that was fired, and each second, he spent cowering in his corner.

  The way he saw it, Tommy had two options. He could either stay where he was and hope they didn’t notice him which was highly unlikely given that there weren’t many spots to hide to begin with. Or, he could take his chances and make a beeline for the closest exit, risking his life in the process.

  “You’re all just going about your life here, aren’t you?” The man closest to him yelled, sounding gleeful despite the mania surrounding him. “You think there’s hope if you get out of here? Well, you’re wrong.”

  He spat on the sidewalk and wiped his hand across his mouth. “They want you to believe that, so you can keep working, giving more and more of yourself until there’s nothing left.”

  “You.” He pointed at a man a few feet from where Tommy hid himself. The man took a deep shaky breath and turned to his face his assailant, a defiant look on his face. “Where’s Johnny?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said, with quiet assurance despite the tremor in his voice.

  “Don’t lie to me. Do you know what happens to one of Malone’s men?’ the gunman hissed, his tone dripping with venom.

  The men held up his hands, fear shinning in his eyes. “Look, man, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The gunman paused and whistled for another man who quickly trotted over, glancing around suspiciously. They bent their heads in quiet murmur glancing over at the man who looked weary, his mouth set into a determined line.

  “That sounds like a bullshit response,” the gunman responded, his tone full of reproach as he advanced forward menacingly. “Did you think dying your hair would keep us from figuring out who you are? You backstabbed Malone.

  “I didn’t mean to, okay? Tell Malone I’m sorry. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  The gunman pursed his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think that you have, and Malone really doesn’t give second chances.”<
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  “See you in hell, kid,” the gunmen announced. He pulled up his gun, and the man scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. His eyes widened in fear until a single bullet left his lifeless body on the pavement, a few mere minutes later.

  Get up! his mind chided, If you ever want to see your mother, or Leo, or Aimee again, then you need to get up and get out of here, Tommy. You need to survive this. There’s still so much you need to do, like play your first game. Besides, they’re not after you. This is some kind of mob war, and they’ve got the person they were looking for.

  A pool of blood seeped through the pavement and trickled forth, touching the edge of Tommy’s shoes. He sucked in a breath and blocked his nose, preferring instead to breathe through his mouth, so he wouldn’t gag on the smell. Gingerly, he made his way around the blood, careful not to step on it. He paused and closed the man’s eyes before he continued.

  “Shoot anyone who tries to escape. We can’t have any witnesses,” the gunman growled as he wiped his hand on the palm of his jeans.

  On his hands and knees, he inched forward, past glass that dug into his palms and debris that clung to his clothes. Deliberately, he emptied his mind and kept his eyes trained ahead, focused on what waited for him on the other side.

  An image of the people he cared about flashed through his mind, giving him a renewed sense of purpose until he saw his salvation. He just needed to round that corner then---

  Pain shot up through his thigh, searing hot and crippling. Tommy set his jaw until another similar pain inched up his other leg, and he collapsed. His vision swam in and out of focus as he took his phone out of his pocket.

  He clutched his leg and was surprised when his hands came up wet and sticky. His blood-soaked hands trembled as they dialed Aimee’s number, praying that she would pick up.

  “Tommy,” she sounded relieved. “Look, I shouldn’t have pushed. You can talk whenever you’re ready, okay? I just—”

  Tommy coughed, his breath coming out in short wheezes. “Aimee, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “Tommy? What’s wrong with your voice? Are you okay?”

  Her concern washed over him, making the pain seem more bearable.

  “Just been shot,” he managed to croak.

  “What?” she asked, sharply. “Did you just say you’ve been shot? Where are you?”

  Tommy murmured something unintelligible before he succumbed to the darkness.

  ***

  He shot up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat dripping off his back. He turned his head to the side and found Aimee’s head resting on the edge of his hospital bed, her hands fastened around his.

  Chapter 12

  Aimee quietly inserted the key into the lock, and with waited breath, she pushed the door open, sneaking in on tiptoes. The door squeaked shut as she closed it, and she tensed as she waited to hear if anyone would react.

  When nothing happened, she carefully trudged forward, sighing in relief as she gathered her hair up into a loose ponytail. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it up, yawning as she checked her watch.

  “Where have you been?”

  Aimee sighed as she turned around to face her father, who was sitting on the living room table with one leg over the other, arms crossed over his chest, and a stern look on his face. His dark features, so similar to her own, made her pause.

  “The—” Aimee paused and cleared her throat as she realized it sounded hoarse. “The hospital.”

  “Again?” His eyebrows rose to his hairline as his mouth twisted into a frown of disapproval. “I don’t like you spending so much time there.”

  Aimee began to knead her shoulders, pressing into them hard. “Yes, you’ve already mentioned that, dad. Several times.”

  “And does my opinion matter that little to you?”

  For the first time in her life, Aimee heard something different in her father’s tone. It wasn’t reproach, though there was plenty of that; it was disappointment. They’d butted heads before, but Aimee was mostly the one who ended up caving, mostly because she realized her dad was right.

  This was the first time, she didn’t and couldn’t agree with him, especially as time went by. It was a novelty, and it left them on new shaky terrain.

  Aimee exhaled. “It’s not about that, dad. Tommy was shot. He called me as he lay there bleeding out, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Her father stood up, his chair scraping backwards. “Of course, it means something. What happened to that boy is awful. Nobody is denying that, but it isn’t your responsibility. You don’t have to stay with him through this. You barely know him, and nobody would think it was wrong if you walked away.”

  “I would,” Aimee responded, with conviction. “It matters more to me what I think of myself than what others think of me. I care about Tommy, dad, and I think I could even grow to love him in time, and I won’t walk out on him. You raised me better than that.”

  “I also raised you to make the right decisions. That boy is quicksand. He’s going to suck you down with him now that his career is over.”

  Frustrated, Aimee strode forward. “Stop saying that! His career isn’t over, dad. He’s on leave until he gets better, then he’ll come back and prove everyone wrong. You’ll see.”

  “And what are you going to do in the meantime?” Alan demanded. “Just stick by his side and play nurse for the rest of your life?”

  Aimee reeled back. “Of course not, but I need to help him dad. He needs to get back on his feet.”

  “You can’t put your life on pause for some guy, Aimee,” Alan urged. “Please think about what you’re doing. I know you feel something for this boy, something strong, but your life is going to pass you by if you’re not careful. In a blink of an eye, it could be all gone.”

  Aimee sagged, feeling very drained. “Dad, I know you think that you’re giving me sound advice, and you think that because you came from the South side it gives you some insight, but this is different.”

  Alan looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Tommy is trying to claw his way out too, just like you did, so I don’t understand why you can’t see that. I know you’re afraid, and everything that you’re doing is out of love, but I need you to trust me because I’m not going anywhere. You raised me better than that.”

  Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and her mother walked in with a tub of ice cream in her hands, in a rumpled nightgown. She stopped, with the spoon halfway up to her lips, and her mouth forming a surprised ‘O’.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said, a little too casually, as she forced a smile and walked over to the water cooler where she poured herself a generous amount of water.

  “I care about Tommy, dad, and one day, you’re going to accept that because I’m not letting my life pass me by. It’s just not turning out the way either of us envisioned, and I know it’s going to be hard, but I’m not leaving him,” Aimee said, firmly, her voice ringing with conviction.

  “But—” her dad began, sputtering. “I—”

  “Alan,” Gina placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We raised her well, and we have to trust that she can make her own decisions, even the mistakes.”

  “You don’t have to say anything right now, dad. I’m going to go up, take a shower and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll go visit Tommy, and we can talk about this some more,” Aimee added, feeling drained as her shoulders sagged.

  She turned around and placed her hand atop the railing, slowly walking up the stairs before she paused at the top. “I love you, dad, but I need you to trust me.”

  With that, she turned around and headed towards the bathroom. As she waited for the water to heat up, her parents’ voices drifted upstairs, the hushed urgency of it surprising her. She couldn’t recall ever hearing her parents argue, and they’d certainly never raised their voices, but she had to hope her mom was getting through to her dad, because Aimee had no more cards to play.

  The past few weeks ha
d been tough to say the least. She’d gotten to know Tommy better, and they’d gotten closer, but there were times when he’d snap at her because his patience was wearing thin. Physiotherapy was a slow and laborious process, and he was getting restless. Whenever he’d do that, Aimee would simply put him in his place, and he’d apologize after.

  Aimee drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow, dozing off into a fitful sleep.

  ***

  “I’m not going to do it,” Tommy announced, huffing as he sat still, refusing to move.

  “Yes, you are,” Aimee responded, tightly. “Get up.”

  “No,” Tommy said, shortly. “You’re wasting your time.”

  Aimee pushed herself off the chair and crouched in front of Tommy. “Do you want to try a new excuse today? Just to keep things interesting?”

  Tommy’s mouth twitched in amusement, but his eyes hardened. “Seriously, Aimee. It’s your summer. Why aren’t you out there enjoying it?”

  Aimee tossed him a look over her shoulder as she went around the bed and climbed on top of the bed. “Who says I’m not enjoying my summer?”

  Tommy sucked in a breath as Aimee placed her hands on his back. “What are you doing?”

  Aimee leaned in to whisper. “Get your head out of the gutter. I’m not doing anything dirty…. yet.”

  Tommy choked back a laugh. “Then what are you doing?”

  “Pushing your lazy ass off the bed,” Aimee declared before she put all of her strength into shoving Tommy forward. He shot forward and wheeled around in surprise, scowling at Aimee.

  “What the hell did you do that for? I could’ve fallen.”

  “So?” Aimee swung her legs off the side of the bed and dusted her hands.

  “What do you mean, so?” Tommy challenged. “That’s dangerous. I’m in a hospital in case you haven’t noticed. This isn’t a game.”

  “Well, gee it did escape my attention, you know. Because I’m not in here every day with you,” Aimee said, sarcastically. “And by the way, I know it’s not a game, I didn’t actually push you, you stood up on your own, and you’re fine now, see?”