Catching Tatum

by Lucy H. Delaney

  I knew, thanks to Parker, that I was strong enough to resist the urges and desires rising up in me and, better than that, I knew that Cole loved me and wanted me enough to wait for me for just a little longer. I was evil. I enjoyed getting him as hot as I could and shutting him down, softly, gently, but firmly. He called me a tease and I didn't deny it, but promised I'd be his soon enough. Always, he put up with it ... on the condition I pay him back any way he wanted after we said “I do.”

  The day came and all that was left was the ceremony and consummation. It had hit me in little moments all along the way, but as I got ready in the visitors’ locker room with my mom and three bridesmaids I realized that this time around Cole truly had played by all my rules, met all my demands, and had even given me a memory to treasure on every one of the real-live bases. All of it had happened right on the field we were to be married on.

  He really believed in second chances. He had to, to relieve his own guilt, and to make some sense out of Stacy's death. It was hard for me to believe he had ever been that boy from the hallway who humiliated me and broke my heart, except for the dimples and golden-flecked eyes. They were wiser the day of our wedding and held a secret only I knew.

  Against tradition we saw each other that day ... right up until the dress part. I wanted that to be a secret. I never let him see it. My mom cried when we were getting ready.

  “Oh, this is your moment. You know what to do,” she said. She took my hands and looked at me. I pulled her into my arms and we hugged, and both breathed in the memory together; me and my mom, the ladies that loved the traveling men.

  Home plate had always been a magical place to me. When I played the game, it was my goal; when my friends, family, or team scored, it was a reason to cheer. Home was always a place of good things and the best thing that ever happened to me, until our little ones came along and ran in their first runs, right there.

  He broke my heart, he ruined me, he changed my life; he begged me for a second chance and challenged me; he was my perfect complement and competition. He won me over and made me fall in love with him harder, stronger, and deeper than I ever had before. He made me question my definition of love. Had I loved any of the boys I was sure of or was it all something less? Cole was love; I knew my heart and life were safe in his hands. As I handed my bouquet to my maid of honor and took his hands, I knew that our lifetime of adventures was just beginning.

  The pastor, who was also one of my favorite local officiants, asked us the questions and we struggled through them with our usual flair. Instead of saying, “you may kiss the bride,” he shouted, at our request, “PLAY BALL!” We bolted for first, hand-in-hand, while they all cheered. He kissed me and I kissed him back, and we circled the bases together.

  It wouldn't be right to tell the whole story and leave out the home run that started us off. It was certainly not our finest lovemaking moment, but it is one of my favorites because it was our first as man and wife. All through the reception, which we had near the concessions booth, I teased and taunted him about how ready I was for him. Then it happened; the music stopped. I ran up to the announcer's box to reset the station and there he was at the bottom, door shut and hungry for me.

  “We're doing this, huh?” I giggled, jumping onto him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him furiously while he fumbled with his pants. “Better make it quick, they'll be looking for us.”

  “Not a problem.” He laughed between slobbery kisses. Knowing they were just outside made it way more exhilarating than it already was. He was hard and I was wet and ready to receive him. He pulled me up and lowered me, with some effort, kissing my neck. We found our rhythm quickly and he turned us around so I could brace myself against the wall. Everything was quicker, harder, faster that way. I felt him tense and climax inside me and I laughed—victory was ours—for me, for making it to the wedding day, and for him, for finally winning the prize. We basked in the moment only long enough for me to remember the smell of plywood and dirt that always brings me back to his arms that evening. We kissed and readjusted quickly and formulated a plan in between devious laughs at what we had just gotten away with. I would go out first because he was pretty sure no one saw him come in, and he would find me later. We made ourselves believe no one knew what we had done … and if they did, they never said anything.

  I couldn't have asked for a better beginning to our second chance at the game of love.

  THE END

  EPILOGUE

  THE GAME OF LIFE wasn't what we expected, and Plan B snuck up out of nowhere and took us by surprise. I got pregnant, probably off of that first home run, or maybe later that night in the hotel, and motherhood changed me. I decided I wanted to be like my mom and be home based more than I wanted to travel with a team from town to town rehabilitating injured players. I finished my schooling and hired on with a sports-med facility in Ohio that treated professional athletes. I have built a respectable clientele, and am sometimes commissioned to accompany a client to their various engagements; but for the most part, I stay at home and I like it that way.

  We made our home near where my parents retired in Ohio, but we followed Cole to games when we could, and we took frequent road trips as a family, or just the two of us, to keep the wanderlust at bay. Our brood is nothing like my parents’. We have three girls, all with the most gorgeous hazel eyes and dimples a mother could ask for, and they have a father who will defend against philandering boys like he had once been. After five more years of minors, slowly climbing upward, Cole's dreams changed, too. When our oldest daughter, Stacy, started tee-ball, his heartstrings called him home to coach her team. He decided he wanted to be present and available for his girls the way his parents hadn't been for him. He hoped that if they had a present father figure in their lives they wouldn't fall for a guy who treated them the way he had treated Stacy and me.

  For a man who never had a Plan B, he fell into it rather nicely. Ever the charmer, he was a natural at sales and eased into a comfortable career at a high-end car dealership, and if he ever resented me or the girls for giving up his dreams of the major league, I could never tell. He still coaches the girls' softball teams and talks to Stacy's parents weekly, and together we help train others in suicide awareness. We have fantasies of running away and traveling the world together, but that can wait until our girls are chasing their own dreams. Until then, we are an all-American family with season tickets to our local minor league field where the girls spend every summer sitting between us and their grandparents and singing every word to the Star Spangled Banner with their hands over their hearts.

  SONGS THAT INSPIRED CATCHING TATUM

  Star Spangled Banner – pick your version

  Because I couldn't write a book with a baseball-loving military brat and not hear our national anthem.

  I Don't Dance – Lee Brice

  The song that inspired me to write Catching Tatum in the first place. From the very first time I heard it, I knew there was a story to tell.

  Meet Virginia – Train

  Dedicated to Tatum over the radio by a boy in a story that never made it out of my head onto the paper, but the song fits her too perfectly to leave out.

  No More I Love Yous – Annie Lennox

  Tatum's motto after she says it one too many times with no love in return. Also, though it's not written this way, this is the song I envisioned Tatum playing over and over again on her pitiful run around McChord AFB, and when she cries on her bed, and when both boys break her heart again.

  I'm Not Who I Was – Brandon Heath

  When Tatum makes her rules and stands up for herself and becomes a woman of strength and mystery, because of the boy who broke her heart.

  Thunderstruck – AC/DC

  This is the song I imagine playing on the radio when Tatum drives to work after Justin changed her station.

  Rude – Magic!

  Another inspirational song for a scene in the story that didn't make it to the final version. This is when Cole comes back a
nd asks Tatum's dad if he can date her and he shuts him down. Then, of course, Cole- the-persistent comes back and permission is granted.

  All She Wants to do is Dance – Don Henley

  ‘Cause I couldn't have two exhibitionist characters like Cole and Tatum and not have them dance to this in front of a crowd of fans. And, anyway, it's perfect for that third inning sing-along!

  Better Together – Jack Johnson (but only the harmonica version w/ G. Love will do)

  When the boy who gets what he wants finally gives in and gives Tatum what she demands—the perfect dance.

  Redeemed – Big Daddy Weave

  When Tatum finds her redemption in the arms of a heartbroken Airman.

  Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy

  For the season of Tatum's life when she loses both Justin and Cole. This was another song that haunted me, like a muse, from the first time I heard it and it demanded me to write for it.

  Hello, My Name Is – Matthew West

  I don't know; it's kind of the song I hear when the two of them finally, at long last, say “I do.” I think it's the best way for them to end their courtship, which is filled with memories of regret, and say “hello” to a new life together.

  Every day loved ones are lost to the tragedy of suicide but awareness and fast action can help save a life. QPR Institute trains people to recognize emotional cues and other warning signs that a person is in crisis in much the same way CPR trains them to help a person in cardiac crisis.

  What is QPR?

  QPR stands for Question, Persuade, and Refer – Three simple steps that anyone can learn to help save a life from suicide. Just as people trained in CPR and the Heimlich Maneuver help save thousands of lives each year, people trained in QPR learn how to recognize the warning signs of a suicide crisis and how to question, persuade, and refer someone for help. Each year thousands of Americans like you are saying "Yes" to saving the life of a friend, colleague, sibling, or neighbor. QPR can be learned in our Gatekeeper course in as little as one hour.

  In one hour, you can become a Gatekeeper.

  According to the Surgeon General’s National Strategy for Suicide Prevention (2001), a gatekeeper is someone in a position to recognize a crisis and the warning signs that someone may be contemplating suicide. Gatekeepers include parents, friends, neighbors, teachers, ministers, doctors, nurses, office supervisors, squad leaders, foremen, police officers, advisors, caseworkers, firefighters, and many others who are strategically positioned to recognize and refer someone at risk of suicide. As of 2014, over 2,000,000 people have been trained to be gatekeepers.

  As a QPR-trained Gatekeeper you will learn to:

  recognize the warning signs of suicide

  know how to offer hope

  know how to get help and save a life

  For more information visit: www.qprinstitute.com

  SEXUAL EXPOSURE CHART

  I remember seeing a Sexual Exposure Chart in a doctor's office several years ago and the math behind the calculations astonished me. Just a handful of partners could expose a person to so many dangerous infections and diseases. It shocked me and has stuck with me. Here are some STD awareness facts.

  According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), April is STD Awareness Month. In the CDC report, Incidence, Prevalence, and Cost of Sexually Transmitted Infections in the United States (February 13, 2013), citizens can find some troubling numbers. Consider the following summary of sexually transmitted infections (STIs):

  20 Million – Annual New Sexually Transmitted Infections (incidence)

  110 Million – Total Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs, new and existing – prevalence)

  $16 Billion – Annual Total Medical Costs (the lifetime cost of treating eight of the most common STIs contracted in just one year)

  Half of all new STIs occur in young people (15-24 yrs.), mostly in the 20-24 yr. age range.

  Are you curious how many people you, or someone you know, may have been exposed to by having multiple sexual partners? Google the Sexual Exposure Chart from the CDC.

  Did you know that the majority of high-school students (grades 9-12, combined) in the U.S., have not had sex?

  Learn more at:

  http://www.citizenlink.com/2013/04/03/cdc-april-is-std-awareness-month/

  For the full CDC STD reports visit:

  http://www.cdc.gov/std/products/syndicated.htm

  Be abstinent, be monogamous, wait to have sex, and when you do, be SAFE and have fun!

  PREVIEW OF

  WAITING ON JUSTIN

  BY LUCY H. DELANEY

  I FELL IN LOVE with Justin when I was seven years old, and I have loved him ever since. I knew him forever, but before that night he was nothing more than a really cool big kid. He was eleven, and when you're seven an eleven-year-old is pretty much an adult. I suppose he was in my life even before I knew how to make a memory because as far back as I can go in my mind, he's always been there, protecting me, loving me silently.

  Justin was the most amazing boy I had ever known, even before I decided I loved him. Some people said he was worthless and good for nothing, a loser and a punk. Clayton, Justin's dad, even said he wasn't worth the oxygen he breathed.

  His hair was dirty blond and usually a little long. I remember once my mom cut it into a raggedy mohawk and then never kept up with it. Eventually the sides grew out, and the top and back were so long I almost couldn't tell he ever had a mohawk until he turned his head really fast; then the top hair would fly up and the shorter sides were obvious. Honestly, it looked ridiculous, but he liked it and kept it that way for a real long time.

  When I look back at his fifth grade picture I can see how young he was. His chubby cheeks, his uncombed hair, and his favorite Power Rangers shirt all showcase his youth. But I swear, when I was a kid I couldn't see anything but a grown-up when I looked in his green eyes. He was a man, and he watched out for me.

  We knew each other before we fell in love because our parents ran in the same social circle. By that, I mean that they partied and drank with the same people, and occasionally got high. I know now that it was more than occasionally, but when you're young, hours, days, and weeks are stretched out, and it feels like forever is between them.

  I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but his parents split up when I was in kindergarten. Clayton kicked her to the curb, and that's when our parents got together. I don't know what Clayton and Karina's love story was all about—that's their story to tell—but I'm sure in their addicted, co-dependent ways they could have loved each other at one time. But love is never enough, and their love ran out. And so did my dad. I don't know anything about him except that by the time Karina was gone he was already ancient history. The only thing my mom ever said was that he was no one I needed to bother knowing, so I never bothered, and neither did he.

  Justin's mom and my mom had been friends since they met in high school. They liked to go to grown-up parties, and they got into grown-up kinds of trouble. My mom was the good one, I guess you could say. Karina, not so much. She started sleeping around in high school and got knocked up her sophomore year by Clayton. My mom felt sorry for her, and they both agreed Mom was practically the only friend Karina had who didn't desert her when she decided to keep the baby and left the regular school to finish at the alternative high school. She dropped out before Justin was born, though. Clayton graduated the summer before Justin was born and went right out to get a job to feed the kid. He started his career mudding, taping, and sanding drywall and worked his way up to painting by the time he and my mom got together. For all I know that's what he does to this day. Our moms stayed close, and when I came along four years later, the young mothers let their kids play together while they partied and Clayton yelled.

  Karina was kind of mental from what Clayton says; I don't remember too much about her. She got into heroin and started shooting up and chasing the high. Clayton wanted nothing to do with someone who stuck needles in her arms (and legs), and that's why he
got rid of her.

  After my mom and Clayton got together, Karina would sometimes find them and ask for a place to crash or money for “food.” If the parents were feeling benevolent, they would let her couch it for a day or two until she started fiending again, in other words, she wanted the high more than anything, even her son.

  Justin loved it when she came. He tried so hard to be good when she was there, as if he could be good enough to make her want to kick the habit for good. It kind of creeped me out the way she would fold him up into her skinny pock-marked arms and hug him, rocking him for too long until it was awkward for us all to watch. Even when he was bigger she talked to him like a baby. “Mama loves you so much, honey,” she would say, swaying him back and forth, or grasping his face between her hands, usually before she bailed again.

  She always took off after a day or two. She left the same way every time: we would leave for school, and when we came home she was gone. No note, no good-bye, just gone.

  I think it made my mom feel bad for Justin and guilty about being a lousy mom herself because she would be real good to us for a long time after that. On the days Karina bounced, my mom would be waiting in the car at the end of the road when the bus dropped us off after school. Clayton had a pick-up he drove to work, but Mom had a rattly black Accord with rusted fenders. It was barely street-worthy, but it got us around. We kept the inside clean—Clayton hated it dirty—but the cleanliness didn't hide how broken down it was.

  Mom only met the bus when Karina disappeared, and before too long we were used to the pattern. I got in the habit of watching Justin's face. He tried to hide it, but you could see it there plain as day, something that said, “She left me again.” I felt sorry for him but happy that we got to go out to eat. Mom usually took us out to McDonald's, where my friend Lizzie and I would play on the playground while Justin sulked.