by L. B. Dunbar
Summer goal—get to know Britton McKay again.
Take 5
Scene: The Baseball Field (continued)
[Britton]
My brain is muddled. I’m still trying to get over the fact Gavin Scott is actually standing before me. My heart flutters faster than a jump sequence in ballet, and a spot on my body long neglected is thumping in rhythm with my rapid pulse.
“We’re gonna play,” Gavin replies to Gee while looking at me, and I wonder if he has any recall of saying those words to me once upon a time.
It was the summer we first met. By the time Gavin found me at a party hosted by my cousin, I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie date, as he called it, where we shared a cool theater on a hot summer day. It wasn’t so much the movie I wanted to see but the heat relief and the sweet popcorn. I was spending the summer with my great-uncle Leo, and his small cottage did not have air conditioning.
“What do I need air-conditioning for? We have the lake to cool us off.” His quaint home on a point jutting into Elk Lake was cool and comfortable most days, but that day, it had been incredibly warm. Or maybe it was just my reaction to Gavin. He was smooth, confident, and funny. His running commentary throughout the scary movie had me laughing instead of screaming. When the movie ended, I didn’t know how to play it with a boy who looked like a man already. I was a quiet girl who loved girlie things. Ballet. Pink tulle. Pretty shoes. I didn’t date. I practiced night and day, praying I could perfect every move.
My downfall was . . . popcorn.
I needed to stay thin, but I struggled. In the world of ballerinas, anything over one-hundred ten pounds was too heavy, and my sights were set on the theater stage. Those were big dreams for sixteen. A time when one thinks all things are possible, like falling in love with a boy on a summer vacation and hoping you can last when the seasons change.
“Mom, move,” Gee commands, breaking into my thoughts.
“Uhm . . .” I look from Gee to Gavin. My heart continues to hammer in my chest.
“I’ve got a few minutes,” Gavin remarks, and the comment strikes hard. A few minutes. Not much time. Only temporary. Gavin isn’t staying in this town. He’s passing through like he once did, and this moment will be a blip in his memory, like the summer we once shared and the weekend I once had with him.
“You aren’t exactly dressed to play ball,” I state, taking note of his jeans, dress shirt rolled to his elbows, and slick shoes—shoes not made for a mound of sand, let alone a beachfront ballpark, or even this small town. The leather and hard soles made a statement. He’s no longer from these parts, and he’ll walk away as soon as he can.
“I’ll manage,” he says, breaking into a cool, confident smile, so similar to when we were young.
Gavin and I dated the summer I was sixteen, racing the clock to a finish line marked by my return to my hometown and his move across the country for college. His summer was filled with physical training and baseball practice to stay in shape before his move. Mine was meant to be a getaway from my divorcing parents. Gavin was leaving in August, cutting his summer short, but we had time, he told me, to learn about one another, and we certainly did discover each other, especially our bodies.
Blindly, I place a ball in his outstretched hand and walk to the edge of the field. Standing behind the backstop while Gavin takes the mound, I marvel at his current physique, more solid than his late-teen frame. He still has that wave to his dark brown hair, and the added beard on his jaw enhances his aging good looks. His shoulders are broad like a laborer and his hands large, which he informed me helped him in baseball.
First base. I hear the whisper of our youth in my head. Gavin is kissing me in my memories as we fall onto a hotel bed.
I’m curious how he ended up in film. The last time I saw him, he was about to make commercials as a rising baseball player. Admittedly, I didn’t follow sports much. My focus was on ballet. When I saw him that fateful weekend, I’d just completed my first year with Dance Midwest, a professional dance company in Grand Rapids. I hadn’t made the cut for the ballet company I’d dreamed of since I was a child. Still, it was a job dancing daily, which was a dream in and of itself.
Second base. My eyes are glued to the curl of Gavin’s hand around the baseball, recalling how he cupped my breasts with those palms. Squeezing. Kneading. Tugging at me until I couldn’t take it anymore.
My fingers grip the metal fencing to steady myself as I watch Gavin pitch. My heart skips a beat at the attention he’s giving my boy.
Does he notice anything about Gee? Does he question why he likes baseball?
These are ridiculous questions. Thousands of kids love baseball, and just as many have light brown hair and deep, dark eyes. Gavin doesn’t know what he’s looking at—or rather who—and it doesn’t matter. His radio silence thirteen years ago had put things in perspective. He didn’t want me. He rejected me.
His current presence brings a new concern. I need to get Gee out of here.
“One more, buddy, and then it’s time to go.”
“Aw, Mom, just a few more minutes,” Gee whines. He’s become more argumentative this summer. I’d attribute it to Theo, but I know better. Gee misses Patrick, especially with the invite to Cooperstown, where the Baseball Hall of Fame exists. In a few weeks, Gee’s team of twelve-year-olds will play in the Upstate New York competition. Through some extra penny pitching and generous fundraising, I was able to secure a spot for both of us to attend. I don’t want to miss a moment of his fun. Patrick would have loved it.
Saddened by the reminder that my husband will not see Gee play, I call back to him.
“Five more minutes,” I warn as every mother does. If he gets his way, it will be more like ten. I want it to be less because Gavin needs to go. On repeat, I remind myself that it’s a fluke he’d pulled into this lot, on this lake, at this time. I was not meant to see Gavin again, and I’ve believed that for thirteen long years.
“Okay, buddy,” I call out.
“Mom, it hasn’t even been five seconds,” Gee groans.
“Yeah, but Mr. Scott has plans.” A late dinner. Sounds chic, trendy, and mysterious, and also none of my business. I refuse to ask about his personal life. It doesn’t matter to me. “His wife is probably waiting for him.”
At the mention of such a person, Gee hits the ball, and Gavin needs to duck out of the way as it’s a line drive toward second base. When Gavin stands erect again, he stares across the field at me.
“I’m not married.”
For some reason, my heart skips again, and the pulse between my thighs increases like the flutter of a jeté.
Third base. Strong hands touched me in a place only I had explored before Gavin’s fingers sought that sensitive spot, then filled me in a way I’d never experienced.
“Home run,” Gavin yells, and I shake out of my memory once more, watching Gee run the bases while Gavin continues to stare at me.
Being unmarried means nothing to me, I tell myself, lying at the leap within my chest, powerful and strong like a petit allegro jump sequence
“Home run,” I whisper to myself as Gee rounds third and heads home. Score. Gavin and I had that moment once upon a time, but I cut that memory short.
“Good job,” I call out, removing my hands from the fence barrier to clap. I didn’t realize how hard I clutched at the thin strips until my fingers unfurl and ache. The rusty scent of metal drifts to my nose, and the coloring returns to my white knuckles. “Collect the balls.”
Gee does an about-turn after stomping on home plate and races to the outfield to collect the dozen or so balls we brought with us. He hates fielding, which is another reason he dislikes his outfield position, but it’s all part of the game. As he collects his equipment, Gavin struts to me.
“He’s a natural,” he says, glancing back at Gee, and I chuckle without humor.
“Easy there, sport,” I tease. Gavin’s head swivels, and he slowly smiles.
“I haven’t heard that name in a
while.”
Yeah, I bet you haven’t. Thirteen years of separation will wipe away a nickname.
“So the Film Festival,” I question, hating that I’m remotely curious about him.
“Yeah.” He swipes nervously at his hair, and I remember the motion from our youth. “I made a film.”
“I read that,” I state, and he blinks.
“You’ve heard of it?” Something unfamiliar fills his voice, lightening the tone, and I question his surprise.
“I read it in the festival program.” I’m not about to explain how I stared at the image of him, uncertain the name correlated with the man of my past until I saw his picture. He’s hardly changed over the years. Same strong jaw. Same deep gaze. Same rosy puffed lips.
“Are you coming to see it?” The twist in his voice sounds almost . . . hopeful, leaving me wondering why he’d want me to view it. Instead, I ask something else.
“Will they sell popcorn?”
He blinks at me, long lashes lowering before his eyes widen in recognition. A slight curl to his lips forces a hidden dimple to peek out.
Am I . . . flirting with him?
“Not sure, but I put red licorice down as a special request.” His mouth curls deeper, and I catch myself before I smile in return.
I am not flirting with him.
“I probably shouldn’t,” I state, standing straighter as Gee runs to home plate to gather his bat and fill his ball bag with all his gear. “Gee, buddy, let’s go.”
“Wait.” Gavin reaches the fence barrier between us, but I begin to circle the backstop. Once I do, Gavin meets me at the edge of the wood base and reaches for my upper arm, whispering once again. “Wait.”
The contact of his warm hand on my clammy skin fires off a current of electricity, jolting me back twenty years when he first kissed me.
“Sweet sixteen and never been kissed,” he teased as we stood outside my cousin’s house, and he kissed me for the first time. It hadn’t been true, that I hadn’t been kissed before, but when Gavin kissed me, I knew I’d never truly been kissed until that moment. When he kissed me at twenty-three, I knew I’d never kiss anyone like him again.
“Can I see you again? Are you visiting Leo? Let’s meet for a drink.”
“A drink?” I choke as that’s how it started that weekend. Thankfully, Gee saves me from replying as he canters up to where Gavin and I stand. Gee stares at where Gavin holds me, and Gavin quickly removes his hand from my arm. My skin actually sizzles with the removal of his fingers. He’s imprinted on me, and that touch will haunt me tonight as I lay in bed, restless and desperate for a release I haven’t had in a long time.
“Ready,” I say to Gee. “Thank Mr. Scott for his time.”
“Thanks for pitching, Coach.”
“No problem, sport,” he says to Gee, and the leaping and galloping in my heart crash like a jeté gone wrong.
“Britton.” My name is a question. He wants an answer, and I have so many, but none of them answer the question at hand.
“It’s been good to see you again, Gavin,” I state, lying to myself and him. It’s been great to see him, but heartbreaking as well. It’s all a reminder of what wasn’t meant to be. With my arm around Gee, I led him toward the lot where we parked bikes in the rack. As we walk away, Gee looks over his shoulder and gives another wave to Gavin.
“Do you feel practiced?” I question, trembling once we’ve reached our bikes. We begin walking them up the hill to the road, and I sense Gavin watching us.
“Gavin is great.” Gee hops on his bike, awkwardly walking the thing between his legs as we climb the steep gravel drive. “Did you go to school with him?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, though it isn’t true. How do you describe summer love to your child? You don’t, as I haven’t, and I don’t plan to.
“Do you think we’ll see him again? Think he’ll want to pitch to me again?”
“I don’t think so, honey.” There’d be no reason to see Gavin again. “He’s only here for the film festival.”
“Are we going to his movie?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” I lie again. I’m not going to his movie.
“That always means no,” Gee states, lowering his voice. He’s quiet for another second before saying, “So he was a baseball player, and now he makes movies.”
I don’t have the answers to that question because I didn’t know what happened to Gavin. Sometimes, life throws you a curveball, and you end up where you never thought you’d be. As I settle on my bike and press the pedal to propel myself forward, I glance at Gee. I wouldn’t trade him for the world, but I know all about how something can change your life in the blink of an eye.
“I guess so,” I mutter as Gee jumps up on his bike and pedals after me. We ride in silence for a few minutes, allowing the cooler temp of the evening to surround us as we slice through the breeze. The trees on either side of the road cast a shadow on the pavement. I love this area, and it’s one reason I decided to return. A series of events brought me back, but I accept for the hundredth time I’m where I’m meant to be.
“Hey Mom, why’d the Zombie pitcher retire from baseball?”
I slowly smile, knowing I don’t have an answer. “Why?”
“He threw his arm out.”
I laugh as I pedal, a sense of relief washing over me the farther we bike away from the field, and I do something I haven’t done in a long time.
Summer goal—avoid Gavin Scott.
Take 6
Scene: The Street
[Gavin]
I still couldn’t get over the fact Britton was at the ballfield last night. I wanted to know where she lived, what she was doing here, how had the past thirteen years been, but it was apparent she didn’t want to expound on anything with me.
The day is filled with another round of film viewing and a question and answer panel about documentaries. I’m happy to be at the session, discussing my new passion while a few people want to discuss my former baseball career. I cut those questions off with a little joke and move on.
That night my brother-in-law, Tom Carter, hosts a party in my honor, as he says. Married to my older sister, Karyn, Tom and she are high school sweethearts. They’ve been together for almost twenty years. By most people’s standards, they have it all—married with three children and a house on the lake.
I’m not certain where I fall on the list of standards.
I’m also not convinced Tom needs an excuse to throw a party, but I don’t turn down the opportunity, mainly because, once again, my parents will be present, and I don’t want to disappoint Mum. In fact, everyone will be in attendance—the entire Scott clan of Karyn, myself, and Ethan, plus significant others and children, and the Carter family, which includes Tom’s mother, his brother, two sisters, their partners, and more children. Our brood has grown over the past year or so, and I expect that we will continue to multiply with the upcoming marriages. Not me. I’ll be attending the party alone, leaving alone, and returning to California, where it will only be me.
Once I arrive at Tom’s, I’m accosted by everyone. Ethan and Ella say hello. Karyn tells me that I’m late. Dad doesn’t speak, but Mum hugs me extra hard again.
When I see Jess Carter, we greet as if twenty years haven’t separated us. He was like another brother to me, and just one look at him reminds me how much I’ve missed our friendship.
“Gavin, meet my fiancée, Emily.” Emily Post isn’t from our town but a recent transplant because of her love for Jess and his daughter. She is a beautiful woman with blond hair and bright blue eyes, and if I didn’t know better, I’d guess Jess’s little girl to be Emily’s child, which she’s not. Jess married his high school sweetheart like his older brother, only it was a complicated, long-drawn-out relationship, resulting in a short-lived marriage. I hated Debbie for what she did to Jess and his daughter.
“So nice to meet you,” Emily offers, holding out a hand and covering mine with her other one when we shake. I
tug her in for a cheek kiss, and she sweetly blushes at the motion. Jess wraps an arm around her, and I notice how happy he is. He’s had a rough patch with the divorce, his father’s death, and his daughter’s issues. He has a tough exterior. Some would call him brooding, but he’s smiling in a way I remember from when we were young.
“I’m honored to be part of your wedding.” Jess and Emily will wed in roughly ten days, and I’ll be standing up as a groomsman for my old friend.
Emily steps away when Katie tugs at her hand, and I smile at Jess. “She’s beautiful, man.”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, life is good.”
“So, how are things?”
Jess turns to me, his eyes finally pulling away from his future wife. “Where do I start? It’s been such a long time.”
“Give me the highlights.”
Jess smiles bigger and nods off toward where his woman just wandered. “You just met her.”
Jesus. He looks ridiculously happy, and I’m fighting the jealousy I feel toward him.
“What about you?” He turns back to me, and I have nothing to report that will top the look in his eye.
“Been busy. Traveled a bit and excited to present this film tomorrow night.”
Jess chuckles. “Now that I have your resume, how are you?” Jess eyes me like he knows something isn’t right with me. “I’m sorry about baseball, but I’m sure you hear that often enough. Got a girl? Will she be here?”
“No, Zoey and I broke up a few years back,” I sheepishly state. “She’s still my manager, but she won’t be here.” Zoey wouldn’t have attended, even if we were together. Once the game was gone, so was she. Strangely, I wasn’t sad about the end of us.
“Hey, can I ask you something strange? Do you remember that girl I dated after we graduated? Britton McKay. She was staying at her uncle’s place on this lake. She was Duke Braun’s cousin.”
“Duke?” Jess shakes his head. “I haven’t seen Duke in years.”
“Yes, but his cousin, Britton. Have you seen her around town?” I’m digging for information from a man who’s only been back in the area himself a few years, not to mention I don’t expect him to remember who I dated back when Debbie was his life. However, it’s a chance I need to take.
