Pitchfork in the Road

by M. J. Schiller

  I watched him amble off, lost in my thoughts, then slid into my seat.

  Once home, I had to hustle to change so I had enough daylight left for that run. I stretched out at a park near my condo, using some bleachers by the basketball court for support. The scent of hot dogs wafted to me, and I searched around for a source, but found none. It reminded me of how hungry I was. As I was about to take off, a conversation caught my ear.

  “You’re so going down.”

  “Yeah. Right. Says the guy who got H-O-R-S-E before I even had an H yesterday.”

  I cast my gaze in the speakers’ direction. Two teens were taking the asphalt court, one tall, skinny white dude with a man bun, and an equally tall, skinny African-American kid with dreads. I smiled, half-hoping they’d invite me to play so I could wipe the floor up with both of them.

  “Yeah, whatever,” the initial speaker retaliated. “I was off my game yesterday.”

  His friend handed him the ball and got into a defensive stand. “Uhh-huh. Well, come on. Let’s see what you’ve got then, Lebron.”

  His opponent dribbled, positioning himself to protect the ball with his body. The defender put a hand on his friend’s waist as the prospective shooter backed in. The offensive player opened up a touch and his friend made a swipe at the ball. Dropping his shoulder to avert the lunge, the skinny white dude rolled in the opposite direction, using a slick spin maneuver to twist away from the grasping hands of his rival. Then he dribbled in to sink an easy layup.

  They both laughed. “Okay,” his friend admitted. “That was a pretty sweet move.” He retrieved the ball and they got ready for another play.

  I put my earbud in and started off, but I could still hear them jawing back and forth, though not able to make out their exact words. As I put some distance between myself and the park, my mind wandered to another basketball game….

  We were eight or nine, on Zack’s driveway. I was being a tad obnoxious, giving play-by-play as I dribbled. “She jukes to the right. She jukes to the left. She—”

  “Hold on. Hold on,” Zack insisted. He put one hand perpendicular to the other, tapping the tips of his fingers in a “T” position. “Time out.”

  I picked up my dribble and turned to him.

  “Zoe, you shouldn’t say ‘juke.’ It’s more of a football term. Say like, ‘weaves’ or ‘drives’ or something.”

  I smiled, stepping closer to him. “It doesn’t matter what I call it, it’s still gonna leave you eating my dust.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sure it is.”

  A smile played on my lips. I picked up my stride. The warmth stretching along my muscles felt good. A block later, another memory hit me.

  Again, we were on Zack’s driveway, only this time we were probably about fourteen. Nick was over, so we were taking turns at one-on-one. Nick checked the ball to me and I dribbled in, assessing my options. I faked to the left, then went right. He wasn’t fooled and slid over to block my lane, planting himself to make a solid wall I couldn’t get around. I spun and faded away to get enough room to take a shot. Nick jumped to block it, smacking the ball back into my face. Zack was on his feet in an instant.

  “Dude. Take it easy.” He scowled and came over to check me out. “This isn’t March Madness, it’s a friendly game of b-ball.”

  “Well, it it’s too rough for Zoe….” Nick’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, as did his eyebrows. The ball had bounced back to him and he spun it on his finger as he challenged me. I wanted to slap the shit-eating grin off his face.

  The ball had hit me square on the nose and my eyes were watering, but I was pissed and wasn’t about to give into Nick. “It’s fine,” I snapped. I snatched the ball from Nick and handed it to Zack. “You’re in.”

  On my next turn against Nick, he dropped his shoulder and plowed into me, knocking me on my butt. From my position on the concrete, I watched as he sank the basket.

  This time Zack got into Nick’s face before helping me up, grabbing the ball out of his hands. “Why do you have to be such an a-hole?” Zack shoved him, then walked over to offer me his free hand. I grabbed on and he tugged me to my feet. “You okay, Zo?”

  I brushed debris from my ripped up elbow. It stung like hell, but, again, I played it off. “Fourteen to six.” I reached for the ball, and Zack moved it away from me.

  “We need to clean that up.” He indicated my elbow.

  I stepped forward and snagged the ball. “I’m fine.”

  He held his hands out to the side. “Okay. Your funeral.”

  He moved back, and I got ready to bring the ball in. Nick did lighten up on me for a while, until the score got close. When I was defending, he swung an elbow into my face, catching my already swollen nose. I involuntarily groaned and stumbled away from him, stunned for a second.

  “Okay.” Zack waved his hands. “Game over.”

  “No. I’m fine.” I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand across my face, but my nose was bleeding.

  “No. You are going to bleed all over my driveway.” He whipped his shirt off and pressed it against my face. “Tip your head back and put pressure on it.” Putting his arm around my shoulders, he directed me toward the house.

  “I guess I win then,” Nick said smugly.

  Something seemed to snap in Zack and he grabbed the ball, which came to a rest near our feet, and hucked it at Nick as hard as he could. Nick barely dodged it.

  “What the hell?”

  I think they would have come to blows had I not yelled, “Oh, shit, Zack. Your garage.” I pointed to the far wall but had to lift my chin again to catch the blood. The ball collapsed in a section of the drywall. My heart raced. Mrs. Issaacs would tweak.

  “Shshshit,” Nick said, but it came out almost like a whistle. “What will we tell your mom?”

  Zack searched around and slid a piece of plywood out from behind his bike. “We’re not telling her anything.” Nick came over and they moved things around until the hole in the wall was covered, and just like that, three friends who had been fighting were united by our little joint lie of omission.

  The memory cheered me. Then “Always” by Panic! At The Disco came on. It was Zack’s and my song. I couldn’t listen to it anymore without curling up into a ball and crying. But since I wasn’t home on my couch, I began to run faster. A sick, empty, heaviness bore into my chest and stomach. A feeling that had become as familiar as my drive to work. I blinked back tears, increasing my speed, trying to somehow out run my pain.

  I’m not sure whether it was the tears blinding me, or my general distraction, but I caught my toe on a raised section of sidewalk and went sprawling.

  “Oh!” Ignoring the sting of my knees and palms, I scrambled to my feet and quickly looked around to see if anyone caught me in my supreme act of grace. Luckily, people had begun to head inside for dinner. No longer needing to act, I bent and let out a groan. I assessed my injuries. Blood ran down my left leg, seeping into my sock, and the trail of blood racing it on my right leg was not far behind. A breeze blew and fanned the fire of my scrapes. I sucked in my breath. “Damn.” Clearly this run was over.

  Spinning in the direction of my condo, I limped down the sidewalk.

  Unbelievable. Even from…however far away he lived…Zack could still hurt me.

  Chapter 2

  Nick

  Even though unfamiliar with the layout of this particular part of Denver, I found Zoe’s condo easily enough. But when I got there, I sat in my car and fought the nerves gripping my stomach, going over different opening lines to see which one sounded better. My window was down to take in some of the fresh air, but I found myself eating exhaust instead.

  I’d been a patient man. Giving Zoe eight years to heal after what Zack did to her was torturous. But it took time to set my plan into action. I needed to make something of myself, amass enough money and gain the status to impress her. A recent visit home had awakened my desire for her. Now it was my turn to love her—if I could get over my fear she would
reject me again. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that was the biggest reason I’d waited so long to make my move on Zoe. Could I stand having my heart broken again by the only woman who had the power to break it? Was I the type of man now she’d be attracted to?

  In the middle of my deliberation, Zoe walked out of the condo, and she blew me away. I always thought her stunning, but this…. How could she have gotten even more beautiful?

  She’s way out of your league, Adams.

  My gaze followed her down the sidewalk, to the park, and I watched her stretch. She leaned a hand on the back of the bleachers as she bent her leg behind her, grabbing her toes with her free hand and drawing her foot into her butt. I wanted to get closer, but not talk to her yet. I pulled out into traffic and inched forward. The breeze blew that gorgeous blond hair of hers. The wind wanted to play with it as much as I longed to. Releasing her foot, she tackled those golden locks, gathering them into a high pony tail and securing it with a rubber band she had on her wrist.

  She smiled at something, then, perhaps sensing me watching her, she raised her head.

  “Shit.” I sank lower in my seat and picked up my speed, but couldn’t resist a peek over my shoulder. She put an earbud in.

  I couldn’t do it today.

  I have to work my way up to it. I’ll be fine tomorrow.

  I decided a drink was in order. It would bolster me. At least that is what I told myself.

  At the bar, I had already decided the scotch in my hand would be followed by several others, when the friend I’d called to meet me for dinner arrived. Ironically, he was another Lincoln lad who wound up in Denver, and his accounting business shared the same office building as my law firm.

  I downed the rest of my drink, tapped my glass on the bar, and caught the bartender’s gaze, raising my tumbler to indicate I needed a refill. I turned to Gabe as he claimed the open stool to my left. “Hey.”

  “Howdy,” he said affably. “Traffic was hell.”

  I tilted my head, studying him. He wore a grin a mile long. “Well, you’re pretty chipper for a guy who got held up in traffic.”

  “I know.” He leaned toward me. “I got a date with Donut Girl. Tomorrow night.” He referred to a girl who always ordered a glazed, cream filled donut from the coffee shop in our building’s lobby each morning. He’d been working up courage to ask her out for weeks. The bartender came back with my drink. “Can I get a vodka and tonic? Thanks.” Gabe faced me again. “That’s why I agreed to join you for dinner. So I could rub it in your face.”

  I choked a little on my swig of scotch. “Gee, thanks. You’re a real sweetheart.”

  “So?”

  I shifted on my stool. “So what?” I knew what he was asking but hoped to avoid having to answer him.

  “How did Project Z go? Did you find her?”

  “Yes.” I let the scotch burn a path to my gut.

  “Awesome.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I responded, as nonchalantly as I could. Earlier, I wanted to talk to Gabe about it—that’s why I called him—but at this point I was in full out avoidance mode.

  “Mm-hmm?” He stared. “You’re not giving me much detail. How did it go?”

  “Great.” I took another long drink and sighed loudly as I placed the glass on the bar. “And I bet it would have gone even better if I’d actually talked to the girl.”

  His eyes widened. “You didn’t talk to her?”

  “No, man. She’s like…a hundred on a scale of ten. It’s…. There’s no way.”

  He sat with his mouth hanging open like a mail slot for a second, then looked away. I tried to catch the bartender again. Gabe twisted back to face me. I could tell he’d come up with some kind of strategy in that tiny brain of his.

  “So, you’re just giving up without even trying?”

  I leaned over the bar more. “The service in here is crap.”

  He frowned. “I thought you really liked this girl. Was it more of a passing thing?”

  My gaze snapped to connect with his. “Does eight years sound like a passing thing?”

  “Then man up and ask the girl out.”

  My jaw tightened. “Easy for you to say. You haven’t been in love with a girl for eight years. The best you can do is eight minutes. And that’s a stretch.”

  “I’m telling you, you either need to grow a pair, or get out of the game.”

  I wanted to punch him right in his fat face. But before I could formulate a response, he stood and removed a ten from his pocket. Throwing the bill on the bar he said, “I can tell you’re in one of your moods tonight. And quite frankly, you’re pissing on my little Donut Girl victory party.” He leaned in. “Her name is Valerie, by the way.” He pressed his lips together. “You need time to think.” He pointed at me. “Man up, and ask her out.” Then he left.

  Son-of-a-bitch was right.

  The next day, Saturday, found me in an almost identical position as the day before. I had come to that proverbial fork in the road. It was time to make a decision. Risk my pride and pursue Zoe, or walk away and find a way to forget about her.

  Like I could.

  I was in front of her building sitting in my Miata, giving myself a pep talk, when she poured herself out onto the sidewalk, a tight little bundle of fluid movement.

  Damn.

  She was so hot it physically pained me. And the funny thing was, I knew she wasn’t even trying to look good. I recognized the pair of jeans she wore. They were magic. I salivated over her ass in those babies on many an occasion. And she carried that green bomber jacket she’d owned for as long as I could remember. It made me smile. She’d changed over the years, but yet she hadn’t changed. For some reason that jacket and those jeans gave me the spark I needed to get out of the car and follow her at a distance.

  With every step she took, desire rose in me like bubbles in a boiling pot. Zoe. Could I possibly have a shot at her? After all this time? Could I be that lucky?

  When she stopped and climbed up to the top of the short bleachers in the park, I swerved off the sidewalk to take a sip of water from a drinking fountain, so I could keep that safety zone of space between us while still covertly watching her. The cool water soothed my tight throat. The familiar sound of a basketball bouncing mingled with the traffic noise and general hubbub of passersby, but I focused on her.

  I needed to approach her. She could take off, like she did yesterday. She was turned away from me when I reached her, following the action on the far side of the court. I drew near with stealth and put my hands over her eyes.

  “Guess who?” And if you say Zack I’ll throttle you.

  It was our thing in high school. I’d sneak up on her, ask her to guess who I was, and she would come up with the wildest answers, like Albert Schweitzer or some such shit.

  She put her hands over my fingers and I could feel her cheeks lift. “Marilyn Monroe.” She yanked my hands away and whirled around.

  “Oh, my God! Nick!” She threw her arms around my neck and half came off the bleachers in her excitement. She always was a spaz. It was one of her most attractive qualities. I pulled her the rest of the way off the bleachers into my arms. “I can’t believe it.” She put her hands on either side of my face, checking me out. “It is Nick, right?”

  I laughed. “Yes, you big dork. It’s Nick.” I savored the warmth of her touch and the sweet familiar fragrance that was Zoe, surprised and happy it hadn’t changed over time.

  She squealed and drew me into a tighter hug. “Oh, my God. It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?” She leaned back. “Are you visiting somebody? How did you find me? Did you—”

  I took her arms. “Hold on. One question at a time.”

  She stood back more. “Look at you. You’re all like…grown up and everything. Where’d you get this suit? What do you do for a living that requires you to be this dressed up?”

  My hands fell to her hips, and I ran them up and down a little, trying not to get too turned on. She didn’t seem to notice
. She beamed up at me. This was going way better than I thought it would. “We have a lot of catching up to do. Can I take you out to dinner?”

  “Sure. Why not? I don’t have any plans.”

  “Awesome. Do you want fancy or casual?”

  She shrugged, squeezing herself to my hip. “Whatever you want.”

  “Okay.” I deliberated only for a second. “Then put on a dress, baby. We’re hitting the town.”

  She gave another squeal and squeezed my arm. “This is so cool.” She stood smiling at me, then she gave a little jump. “Oh. My condo is right over there.” She pointed down the street.

  “Yes. I know. I followed you here from there.”

  “Geez. Stalker-ish much?”

  I panicked and didn’t know how to respond at first. “No. I…. I mean, I just saw you and I—”

  She snatched her jacket from the bleachers. “I’m kidding, Nick.” She grabbed my hand and danced in front of me, walking backward as words gushed from her mouth. “Oh, this is perfect. I can show you my place.” She tugged me along with both hands. “I’m just so glad to see you. It’s been a long time.”

  Could she be…lonely? Things were looking up. If it had been possible for me to forget about loving her over the past eight years, the past five minutes would have reminded me. Her exuberance, her openness, her sarcasm…I mean, she was the perfect girl for me. And I was more determined than ever to prove to her I was the perfect guy for her.

  Chapter 3

  Zack

  The final bell had rung for the day, and I was straightening out my desk when I realized I wasn’t alone in the room.

  “Hey, Tim. What’s up?” He was one of those high schoolers who looked like he still belonged in junior high. The disparity between kids this age never failed to amaze me. Some seemed like they should be playing kickball, some sported beards and had the bodies of full-grown men. Heck, some of them appeared older than me. To be fair, a few of them were taking the roundabout way to graduation and were closer to my age than the average student.