by Dayle Gaetz
We scored one run in the ninth and then I was back in the spotlight. Or on the spot. But with the score at 7-2, we couldn’t lose. Could we?
I tried to avoid looking at the stands, but my eyes were drawn there anyway. Rachel was twisted around, talking to Leah.
The next Panther made it to second. Leah was gone.
They scored four runs in that last inning. So, final score 7-6. We won, but I had screwed up. I felt bad. I didn’t wait for the coach to ask about my shoulder, or for the team to give me a bad time. I took off for Leah’s place.
She was standing near the spruce tree in front of her building when I got there. “Leah!” I caught up, puffing, out of breath. “I thought we were going out after the game.”
“How could you?” She kept her back to me, fists clenched at her sides.
“How could I what?” I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around. Tears streamed down her face.
“How could you go out with that Rachel person?”
“I didn’t go out with her; she just gave me a ride home after work. It was raining…”
“Don’t lie to me, Curt! I know how late you were Saturday night. Your mother phoned me, remember? And Rachel told me everything!”
“But…there’s nothing to tell!”
“She told me about the drugs, Curt. And, you know? I can’t handle it. I’ve got enough problems without you doing drugs!”
“Once! I just tried it once! It won’t happen again.”
She shook her head. “Maybe not, Curt. I hope not, for your sake.” She sighed. “I’m tired. I’m going inside now.”
“So, when will I see you?”
She looked up at me and for a minute I thought everything was going to be all right. “I don’t know, Curt.”
“But, Leah, you can’t do this! Just because I tried coke? Once?”
“It’s not only that. It’s everything! I can’t trust you, Curt. You’re not the guy I thought you were.”
She turned and walked towards the door. I ran after her. “You’re wrong, you know. Sure I’ve had a few problems lately, but I’m fine now. Please, Leah, give me another chance!”
She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek, like she might kiss her brother. “Stay clean,” she whispered, “and we’ll see what happens.”
I watched helplessly as the door closed quietly behind her.
I walked until I reached the waterfront. A fresh, cool wind blew against my face. I could see clear across the strait to the Olympic Mountains of Washington state.
Leah liked the waterfront too; she said it made her feel free. I stared down at the waves. I had to get her back.
I sat on the edge of the old gun emplacement. A headache was starting behind my eyes and I tried to remember if I had any more pills at home. It seemed like I needed more and more of them lately.
I made a promise to myself: I would stop taking those pills forever.
As soon as baseball season was over.
A block away from home I saw the rusty red car. The door opened and Rachel stepped out.
“Hiya, Curt. Where’s your girlfriend?”
“None of your business!”
“Ah, now, Curt, that’s no way to talk to Rachel.” She slunk over and placed her hand on my chest. “What’s the matter, did little Leah dump you?” She slipped something into my pocket.
“Stay out of my life!”
Rachel laughed. “Catch you next time!” She got into her car and drove away.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a little piece of cardboard, folded up like an envelope. I stuffed it deep inside my baseball glove.
Chapter Eleven
From the kitchen I heard Mom and her friends talking in the living room. I made myself a sandwich, grabbed a glass of milk and carried them upstairs. I threw my glove on the floor and kicked it under my desk.
When I finished eating I stared at the phone. I wanted to call Leah so badly! I could see her face, her bright smile, I could hear her laugh and feel her soft skin. But I couldn’t phone, not now. My head hurt, my stomach churned. I picked up the pill bottle. Two left. I needed to save them.
I flopped backward on my bed and tried to relax. But now all I could think of was my baseball glove, under the desk. I couldn’t leave it there. Finally I got up, retrieved the glove, pulled out that little package, opened one small flap, then another. I stared at the soft white powder. Why did Rachel give it to me? I should flush it down the toilet.
Mom was busy with her friends. Dad was away overnight on a fishing trip. Who would know? I remembered how good it made me feel. And right now I felt so bad! Just one more time then. What harm could it do? I picked up a sheet of paper, ripped it to a smaller size and rolled it into a tube.
The high was even better than I remembered. Nothing mattered. Not a stupid little baseball game. Not Leah. Nothing. If only I could feel this way forever. If only the high would last a lifetime!
But it didn’t. When I crashed I felt worse than before. Sick. But hungry. I went downstairs, made another huge sandwich, poured myself a coffee from the carafe and went back up to my room. After eating every crumb I lay on the bed and tried to think. One thing for sure, I had to stop taking those stupid little pills from Coach Watson. Then my problems would be over. It’s not like I needed them or anything.
I would stay away from cocaine. That stuff was bad news. I mean, it grabs a hold of you somehow. It lurks in your brain like the notes of a song that won’t leave you alone. Never again. If I didn’t watch it I would end up in a moldy apartment and drive a rusty old car.
I pushed Rachel from my mind and thought about Leah instead. A little self-control and I would be back to normal, feeling good. We could get back together. No problem.
If only I didn’t have to play baseball. The whole team depended on me. I glanced at the numbers on my clock. 1:17. Tomorrow’s game was in the morning. I needed sleep. But I was wide awake. I rotated my right arm. A stab of pain shot through my shoulder. My nerves were on edge. Pain played at the corners of my mind.
That little bottle waited on my bedside table. There were only two pills left. I flipped my pillow over and sank into its coolness. I thought about tomorrow morning. We had to win.
I checked my clock again. How did it get to be 2:04? If I lay awake all night, I would be a mess in the morning and we would lose for sure. I mean, our other pitcher, to put it kindly, sucks.
I switched on the light, reached over and shook a pill out of the bottle. Just one, because I didn’t think I should mix the pills with the cocaine in my body. I placed the last pill and my water bottle beside the clock and sank into my pillow.
“Go away!” I tried to yell. But my voice was no more than a moan. Who was banging on my door in the middle of the night? I had finally fallen asleep and now someone was waking me up! My arms and legs were heavy and wooden; my eyes refused to open.
The banging got louder. “Curt!” my mother yelled. “It’s after 9:00!”
“Go away!” I yelled.
“Doesn’t your game start at 10:00?”
I threw the covers from my face. The room was bright with sunshine. I looked at the clock and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was 9:05.
“Curt? Are you all right? Are you up yet?”
I dropped my feet to the floor. “Yes.”
“I made you some breakfast.”
I sat up. My head felt fuzzy and my stomach heaved. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to have a quick shower.”
“Okay then, you can take a bagel with you. I’ll drive you to the game.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
When she dropped me off she said, “Curt, I wish I could stay but I have an appointment in town. I’ll try to get back before the game is over.”
“No problem.”
“Hey, Curt, what happened to you?” Stuart asked.
I figured what he meant was, Why didn’t you get here in time to do some warm-up pitches?
“I slept in. No big deal
.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Stuart said. “I meant, what happened to your face? You look awful.” He stepped closer. “Is it because of Leah? I saw her at the store and she told me she was going away for a while. Sorry, man.”
“Can’t you just leave me alone?”
Stuart stared. Then he turned and walked to first base. I stepped up to the pitcher’s mound, feeling like I was in a plastic bag. I could see everything around me just fine, but I didn’t feel like I was part of it. Sounds came from far away and my arms and legs felt heavy, like when you first wake up from a really deep sleep.
I kept thinking about Leah. Where did she go? Why didn’t she tell me?
“I’m taking you out, Curt,” Coach Watson told me after the third inning. We were losing five runs to three.
“What? You can’t do that!”
“Oh? That’s strange, I thought I was coach of this team.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. “Curt, you’re not playing well right now. Take a rest, go toss some practice balls. Maybe I’ll put you back in later.”
“Forget it!” I shouted and threw down my glove. I knew I was acting like a jerk, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t control the rage that flared inside me.
“Curt, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick or something?”
“Yes, I’m sick! I’m sick of baseball! I’m sick of you! I’m…” I paused when I saw the shock on Coach’s face, but somehow that made me angrier. “I quit!”
I stomped off the field.
Chapter Twelve
“Curt!” Coach yelled. “You can’t walk out on me in the middle of a game!”
I ignored him and kept walking, fists clenched at my sides, shoulders tense. Someone grabbed my sleeve. I yanked my arm away. “Hey, Curt, what’s going on?”
I swung around. Stuart’s face was white and his eyes bugged out. He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. The rage boiled over. “Have you got a problem?”
“No,” he said. “Have you?”
“Yes!” I yelled into his face. “And guess what. It’s you!”
His head jerked back as if I had slugged him. “I’m going back to the game,” he said quietly.
Even before I reached the sidewalk I was sorry. I stopped and turned around. No one looked at me. The game started up without me. So I walked away. I had no idea where I was going. I just kept walking and walking, trying not to think.
Hours later, when I got home, Mom met me at the door. “Curt! I’ve been so worried. What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to the game and your coach told me you quit! I can’t believe it. You love baseball!”
“I used to love baseball,” I corrected. “Things change.”
“But Curt, I don’t understand. How can you quit now? Even if you’re tired of the game, it isn’t fair to your team.”
“They can go screw themselves for all I care!” I yelled.
“Curt!” Mom was so shocked, tears spurted out of her eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean, she hadn’t been crying until then, but there they were, big wet tears shooting down her face.
I felt bad. “Mom! I’m sorry!” I gave her a hug.
“It wasn’t my fault,” I told her a few minutes later, while we made ourselves some lunch. “I threw a few bad pitches and Coach Watson took me off.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. He knows you’re the star player.”
“Yeah, well that’s why I quit.”
“You lost your temper, Curt, but you can still go back. You can call your coach and talk to him.”
“No way. I’m through with baseball!”
When I arrived for work at 4:00, the first person I saw was Rachel. I tried to ignore her, but there she was, behind the cash register. She winked. I hurried for the stockroom. Stuart was stacking boxes on a trolley and he acted like I didn’t exist.
I tried to think of something to say. Like, Hey, man, sorry I walked out on the game and all. But nothing came out. He walked away, wheeling the trolley. I had to say something. “Did we win?”
“What do you think?” He pushed through the doors.
Then the manager walked in. “So, Curt,” he said, “I see you finally decided to show up.”
“What? It’s just 4:00!”
“Right. I asked you to start at 3:00.”
After work I stepped out to a warm summer evening, with the sun still bright in the sky. Stuart was standing on the sidewalk, his back to me. He had ignored me all shift, just like I had ignored Rachel. This was my chance then; I would walk up to him and tell him I was sorry for being such a jerk.
Before I could move, a car pulled up in front of Stuart with three guys from our team in it. If they had yelled at me I could have handled it, but they didn’t. They didn’t even bother to look at me. Stuart climbed into the backseat and the car took off.
Cool fingers slipped around my arm. “What happened to your friends?” Rachel asked.
“I messed up.”
“And they took off on you? That bites.”
I shrugged and started to walk away, even though I dreaded going home because my father would be back by now. That’s when I realized Rachel was still clinging to my arm. “Let’s get something to eat,” she said.
My first thought was to say no. But, hey, who else wanted anything to do with me? “Let’s not go to your place.”
She shook her head. “I promise.”
I thought we would go to a coffee shop, but we ended up at a little square house with peeling paint and a yard full of junk. Music belched from the doors and windows. “My friends are having a party,” she explained. “There’ll be lots of food.”
She was right. There was lots of food and drugs and booze. Soon after we got there I found a phone and called home. Luckily my mother answered. “I’m at a party with my friends,” I told her, “so don’t worry if I’m late.”
I have no idea what time Rachel drove me home. I only remember when I woke up the next morning I wished I was dead, I felt so bad. My head ached. The light hurt my eyes. I covered my face with my pillow. I might never get out of bed. Then my bedroom door crashed open.
“Curt?”
It was my father. I groaned.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Your mom said you quit the Falcons!”
When I didn’t answer he yanked the pillow from my face.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m sick of baseball!”
He sank onto the chair by my desk. “It’s all because of that girl! She wants you to quit, right? She wants you to spend all your time with her!”
“It has nothing to do with Leah.”
“You’ve got to call Coach Watson and apologize.”
“Apologize? For what? He’s the one who took me out of the game.”
My father hopped to his feet, his face bright red. “Listen. Either you apologize, or…” He stopped, like he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Sure, Dad. Maybe I’m sorry I ever started playing baseball.”
His jaw dropped. I could see the hurt in his eyes and tried not to care. The words in my head were, Look, Dad, I’m sorry. I just need some time off, okay? Time to sort things out. Those words were so clear I almost thought I had said them out loud.
He turned and walked away. Just like everyone else in my life.
Chapter Thirteen
I thought about Leah every day. I watched for her in the store, but she never came by. I phoned, but no one answered. Then one day, as I was leaving for my lunch break, I saw this tall, good-looking dude in the parking lot.
“Hey!” I called. “Hey, Darren!”
He frowned. “Do I know you?”
“Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I’m Curt. I know your sister.”
His face tightened. “Yeah?”
“Is she okay? I haven’t seen h
er for a while!”
He studied my face, as if trying to decide whether to answer.
“Listen,” I said, “I only want to know if she’s okay. Have you got a minute for coffee? I’ll buy.”
Darren’s eyes narrowed, then he nodded.
He sat across from me in a booth.
“So? Did something happen to her?”
“Leah’s fine now. She’s staying at my place for a while. She had a rough time with Dad.”
“Is your dad still sick?”
He gave me a strange look. “Didn’t Leah tell you? Dad’s an alcoholic. He’s been way worse since Mom left. He lost his job, the house, everything, but he still kept denying he had a problem. After they moved here, Dad got so bad, Leah was scared to stay with him anymore so she moved into my place.”
“Is he okay?” I asked. “I mean, no one ever answers the phone.”
“That’s because, after Leah took off, he got scared. He finally admitted he needed help. He’s in detox now.”
“Oh. That’s good then.”
Darren nodded. “It was either that or drink himself to death.”
No wonder Leah was so upset. “Listen, Darren, do you think she would talk to me if I phoned?”
“Don’t ask me. She never talks about what happened between you two. One thing I can tell you though, if you ever lie to my sister, if you show any hint of a problem with drugs or alcohol, that girl will drop you like a hunk of lead.”
“Right,” I said. “No problem.”
I was back at work before I realized that I didn’t get the phone number.
I had no idea there were so many Johnsons in the phone book. I started with the ones in Esquimalt and called every D. Johnson until I hit pay dirt. “Hi, this is Darren’s place. Please leave your name…” I hung up, wrote the number on a sheet of paper, folded it and slid it into my pocket.
I missed baseball, but no one else seemed to care, no one asked me to come back. Stuart totally ignored me. My father acted like I didn’t exist. I guess that’s why I started hanging out more and more with Rachel and her friends. Party time. There were always loads of people around and plenty of drugs and booze. “Hey, Curt,” Rachel shouted over the music and voices one night. “Want to try something different? It’s cheap and it works real fast. You’ll love it!”
