Wicked Curveball

by Macy Babineaux

  Things didn’t go any better from the plate. The pitcher for the Gators was a gangly black kid who looked like he was fresh out of high school. He had an elaborate wind-up, which he followed up with either a passable fastball or a corker of a curve. Bo had hit his fair share of curveballs in his short career, but for whatever reason, this kid had his number. Bo went 0-4 from the plate, popping straight up to the catcher once and striking out three times.

  Four if you count me, Lucy thought. She almost felt bad for him, but then remembered the arrogant smirk on his face when he actually thought he was going to have sex with her in the training room.

  He didn’t get angry, not even when he struck out in his final at-bat. She gave him a little credit for that anyway. He looked like the type that might break his bat over his knee or hurl it into the dugout in disgust. Instead, he just shook his head like a confused little kid and slumped away from the plate.

  As he walked to the dugout from the plate for the last time that night, he looked up and their eyes met. He had nice eyes, too, Lucy thought, big and blue. She thought she saw something in those eyes as well. Was there a tinge of shame? But was it for how badly he was playing or what he had done earlier? They only looked at each other for a second or two before Bo lowered his head and disappeared into the dugout.

  Despite what she saw, Lucy also felt something, a flutter, a warm feeling in her stomach. Whatever it was, she squashed it and immediately felt stupid for having felt anything, like a silly schoolgirl. He was a hunk, a testosterone-infused jock, and her baser instincts were just reacting to that. She was too smart to fall for someone so stupid and crass. She didn’t have any prospects at the moment, but when if and when she did find someone, he’d be intelligent, degreed hopefully, and more well-mannered than an ape.

  Her last boyfriend, Malcolm, had been in personal finance, a retirement advisor or something. She actually never really understood what he did. He’d talk about it, but she always felt her mind drifting from the conversation. She’d ended it after only four months, on the pretext of work. He had been all business, not putting up much of a fuss. But even though he wasn’t the one, that was the only kind of man she needed in her life, if she needed anybody at all.

  The last person on earth she needed to be with was someone like Bo Gannett.

  4

  The flowers shocked Lucy when she flicked on the fluorescent lights in the training room the next morning. They stood in an emerald-color vase in the center of the stainless steel exam table, an arrangement of soft purple orchids. A small eggshell envelope lay on the table in front of them.

  Lucy picked up the envelope without reading it and slid it into her coat pocket. Then she picked up the vase and headed right back out the door. She walked quickly to the rusty blue dumpster and tossed the flowers on top of a pile of black trash bags, the orchids scattering.

  She reached into her pocket and took out the envelope. She nearly tossed it in after the flowers, but paused at the last second. The brute wanted to apologize, that was apparent. But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of even acknowledging the apology.

  Lucy heard the voice of her Grandma Vivian in her head. Everybody deserves a chance at forgiveness, honey. Don’t you think?

  Even a walking slab of beef without an ounce of shame?

  But maybe he did have at least an ounce of shame. Had she seen it in his eyes the night before? Hard to tell.

  She sighed and opened the envelope.

  Lucy,

  I’m sorry.

  I acted like a real ass yesterday. I know flowers don’t make up for that, but I hope you’ll accept them anyway.

  She looked into the dumpster, at the purple flowers lying among the black plastic of the garbage bags. They were actually weirdly beautiful like that, and for a moment she felt a twinge of regret at throwing them away so hastily.

  Can we maybe start over? I’m really not as bad as I came across yesterday. I’d at least like to try to be friends.

  Bo

  As far as apologies went, it wasn’t bad. Though it was written in a looping cursive that was obviously female. Had he just gotten the woman at the flower shop to write his apology for him?

  She tossed the envelope and letter into the dumpster and walked back to the training room.

  Sorry, Grandma Vivian, she thought. He’s going to have to do better than that.

  5

  Bo stood in the doorway of the training room. Lucy had her back to him, writing on her clipboard.

  “Did you like the flowers?” he asked. “Any of them?” He’d now been with the Mustangs nearly a week, and he’d sent her flowers every day. Orchids, then lilies, then chrysanthemums. After that was a mixed arrangement, then daisies, and today a bouquet of pink, blue, and white carnations sat in a vase on her desk. On the third day, he’d found them in the dumpster.

  She turned and walked toward him, closing the door in his face.

  He sighed and walked back down to where Scully sat at his locker.

  “I hate it when I’m right,” Scully said. “No wait, no I don’t. I love it when I’m right.”

  Bo opened his locker and took out his shoes. “I think I’m wearing her down,” he said.

  “What makes you think that?” Scully asked.

  “She just closed the door in my face this time,” Bo said. “Usually she slams it.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s great progress. Just give it up, loverboy.”

  “Nah, there’s something about her.”

  “Yeah, a thousand bucks.”

  “No, not the bet,” Bo said. “There’s something about her. You know?”

  “She’s nice,” Scully said. “And she wants nothing to do with you. She’s one of the first women to ever reject you, and you can’t stand it.”

  Bo laced up his shoes. “No, that’s not it. Not the last part. Maybe the first thing you said, though. I’ve never met anybody like her.”

  “That’s because you mostly hang out with skanks.”

  Bo took his glove out of his locker and slid it on, feeling the warm, smooth fit and knocking his fist into the leather inside. She’d definitely gotten into his head. He was playing the worst baseball of his life. At this rate, they might not call him back up, even if the big man had figured he’d done his penance. He thought they’d eventually need his bat to keep up in the standings, but not the way he was hitting down here.

  “She’ll come around,” Bo said, clapping Scully on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

  That night Bo went two-for-five from the plate, though he didn’t commit any errors. The next morning a note was taped to his locker:

  He tore it off without reading it and walked down to the training room. Lucy sat at her desk, a vase of red poppies beside her.

  “What’s this?” he asked her, waving the note.

  “I believe it’s fairly clear,” Lucy said. “I’d like you to stop sending me flowers.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Have dinner with me and I’ll stop.”

  “That’s the worst deal I’ve ever heard in my life,” Lucy said. She got up to close the door.

  “Lunch?” he said. The door began to close in his face. “Coffee?” It stopped just short of closing, leaving a small crack.

  “A cup of coffee, and then you’ll leave me alone?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Tomorrow at two,” she said, and before he could answer she shut the door on him.

  6

  Lucy got the coffee shop early. She wasn’t dying to have coffee with Bo. If anything, she felt curious. Let him apologize some more. Let him grovel just a little bit. And then maybe they could actually have a professional relationship. Maybe they could even be friends.

  She ordered a latte and sat outside at a black mesh metal table. The day was beautiful. Just a few clouds in the sky, nice and cool. She’d brought a book to read, a detective novel with a young divorced woman in the lead. She had just wanted a light read, and the book had
surprised her with how funny it was.

  She was laughing when Bo walked up. She looked up from the book, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. He smiled down at her. He was wearing a pair of jeans, boots, and a clean white button-up shirt. She let out a little cough and stopped laughing. She’d told herself that he wasn’t going to charm himself out of the doghouse, but damn, he was pretty.

  “What’s so funny?” Bo asked.

  “Oh, just this silly book,” Lucy said. “You going to get some coffee?”

  “Nah,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting.

  “Nice boots,” she said.

  “Thanks. They’re ostrich or alligator or something. I don’t really know. I just liked the way they looked.”

  “They are nice,” Lucy said. “Even if someone murdered an ostrich or an alligator to make them.”

  “Listen,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “I just want to apologize one more time. What I did, the way we met, that was…well it was…can we just maybe start from scratch?”

  She looked into his blue eyes as he fumbled for words, and there was that flutter in her stomach. She tried to keep from showing any signs, and then worried she was giving away her attraction involuntarily: dilated pupils, a blush response. She gave him her best poker face.

  “Sure,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “I think we can do that.”

  A smile lit up his face. “Great,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

  She reached down for her purse to put the book away.

  “What’re you reading anyway?” he asked.

  She stopped with the book halfway in the purse. “Oh, it’s like a mystery.”

  “But it’s funny?”

  She laughed, remembering the scene she’d just read. “Yeah. Here,” she said, holding the book out to him, open to the page she’d just read. “Read that bit there.” She pointed at the paragraph in the middle of the page.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” he said. “Just tell me about it.”

  “Well, I really can’t do it justice. It’s just the language that she uses.” She pushed the book at him once again, and something crossed his face. His eyes shifted and he looked down. Embarrassment? “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, laughing nervously. “I think I will go get that coffee after all.”

  Then it hit her, and she blurted it out without thinking, immediately regretting it. “You can’t read.”

  His snorted and shook his head. “What? Are you kidding? Of course I can read.”

  She would have sympathized with him if he had just admitted it, but now that he was denying it, she held the book out to him again and raised her eyebrows.

  He took the book, cleared his throat, and looked at the page, his brow furrowing. He swallowed hard, then closed the book and put it down on the table.

  “I guess this is what I get,” he said. “I embarrassed you, so I guess I deserve the same.”

  Now she really did feel bad. “No,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Thanks for meeting with me,” he said, standing up. “I’ll see you around the clubhouse.”

  She didn’t know why she did it, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. A spark jumped between them. At least, she felt it. She didn’t know if he did. When she’d first met him, he was all bravado. But now he was vulnerable, all his swagger set aside. This was the real Bo Gannett.

  “Please don’t go,” she said. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can talk about something else.”

  He looked back the direction he’d come from, considering. Then he slowly sat back down.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “When you’re good at sports, the teachers sometimes give you a pass. When you’re the best at every sport, the coaches make sure you get a pass. I mean, I struggled even before junior high. But then I was the star player. Basketball, football, and baseball. I was winning State championships, carrying teams all the way, and suddenly I didn’t need to struggle anymore. I didn’t even need to turn in my homework. The coaches made sure it was turned in for me.”

  “That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard,” Lucy said. “It also pisses me off.”

  Bo looked surprised. “Why would it piss you off?”

  Now it was Lucy’s turn to look surprised. “Well, because they cheated you.”

  Bo looked confused. “Never thought of it that way. I always figured they were doing me a favor.”

  “God no,” Lucy said. “They were doing the exact opposite. They were being selfish, wanting to win. They used you, and cheated you out of your education.” She took another sip of her coffee, steadying herself. She’d jumped right up on her soapbox, almost lecturing him, and she didn’t want to come across that way. “Sorry, this kind of thing just makes me upset.”

  He smiled. God, that smile could melt butter. “It’s okay,” he said. “I think it’s pretty cool that you care that much.”

  Lucy cleared her throat, thought about what she was about to say next, then went ahead and said it. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s just a suggestion. I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you any further. That’s not my intention. I just—”

  “What?” he said.

  “Well, I tutored both my niece, Francine, and her brother,” Lucy said. “I helped them both learn to read.”

  It took Bo a second to figure out what she was saying, but when he did, he shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “I’m all right.”

  Lucy didn’t know why she did it. Maybe it was how vulnerable he seemed just then. But she reached across the table and put her hand over his. She lowered her voice. “Nobody needs to know,” she said. “The press, the rest of the team. It’s none of their business. This can just be between you and me.”

  He looked down at her hand on his, and then he turned he hand palm up. His hand was rough, calloused, and felt incredibly strong. He closed it around hers.

  “Okay,” he said, smiling again. “Thanks.”

  7

  Lucy and Jackie sat in row fifty-five, munching on their pre-game hotdogs.

  “It’s been a couple of weeks since you met him for coffee,” Jackie said. “Any news?”

  “Who?” Lucy said.

  Jackie laughed. “Man, don’t give me that crap. You know who I’m talking about.”

  “I can’t really talk about it,” Lucy said.

  “Uh oh,” Jackie said.

  Lucy lowered her half-eaten dog. “What?”

  “You guys are getting’ it on.”

  “No,” Lucy said. “We most definitely are not getting it on. We’re friends.”

  “Sure,” Jackie said, making air quotes with her fingers. “Friends. The kind of friends that bonk each other every once in a while?”

  “You have a filthy mind,” Lucy said, smiling and taking another bite. “A one-track, filthy mind.”

  Milo the groundskeeper looked up at them and waved. They waved back.

  “Okay then,” Jackie said. “If you guys ain’t bonking, then what?”

  “I’m helping him,” Lucy said. “With a personal issue.”

  “Uh huh,” Jackie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Lucy and Bo had actually been meeting every day, at her apartment. He knew the alphabet, and a few words, so she started him with one of her favorites: Charlotte’s Web. They’d been reading one to two chapters a day, and though at first it had been rough-going, she could already see improvement.

  She’d worried that his ego would get in the way, but when they were alone, he was the complete opposite of the day they’d met. He was sweet, humble, and most endearing of all, eager to learn. But maybe that shouldn’t have surprised her. He was a world-class athlete after all, and he probably hadn’t gotten that way on talent alone. A willingness to learn and a strong work ethic had almost certainly gotten him there as well. And all the while, as she lo
oked over his shoulder and helped him pronounce the more difficult words, she found herself falling for him.

  She hadn’t wanted to. He was all wrong for her. Though she worked with jocks all day, every day, she didn’t want to be with one.

  “Maybe you’ve been helping him with his swing,” Jackie said. “His numbers are picking up. They might send him back up to the big leagues soon.”

  “What?”

  “Oh,” Jackie said. “I mean, you knew he was only here temporarily, right?”

  Lucy tried to laugh it off. “Sure,” she said. “Of course.” But over the past two weeks, she hadn’t thought about it. Part of her thought maybe that was for the best. Maybe they’d call him up before she fell too hard.

  But the other part of her worried that maybe it was too late. Maybe she had already fallen too hard.

  8

  Bo sat at Lucy’s kitchen table, the book open to the last page. He read the final few sentences, only fumbling on a couple of words. Then he read: “The End.”

  He closed the book slowly and looked at her, a sad look in his eyes.

  “Would you like some tea?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said, nodding.

  He’d come over after a Sunday afternoon double-header, and though he’d showered and changed, she could still smell the faint saltiness of his sweat, the earthiness of the grass and dirt from the field, as if it and somehow soaked into him and become a part of who he was.

  She began to fill the kettle at the sink. “Did you like it?”

  “Sure,” he said quietly.

  She’d been worried about this, that maybe he wouldn’t like books or reading after all. That maybe she was turning him off of reading altogether, that she’d been dumb to think otherwise.

  “I mean, it’s kind of a downer,” Bo said. “Charlotte died.”

  “Oh,” she said, pleasantly surprised. “Well, she saved Wilbur’s life, and gave birth to a whole bunch of kids.”

  “I guess,” he said. “I know kids need to learn about death and everything, but jeez, they sure do pile it on.”