The Change-Up

by Syd Parker

  The Change-Up

  by

  Syd Parker

  2016

  © 2016 Syd Parker Books

  The Change-Up

  Copyright © 2016 by Syd Parker

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book only. No part or entirety of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form without the express written consent of Syd Parker Books.

  Cover Design: Syd Parker Books

  Published by: Syd Parker Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Sarah. You remind me that life is a gift.

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  I like to joke that I’m great at giving incredibly sound advice. The bad thing is I’m horrible at following it myself. One bit I have struggled with my entire life is being true to myself. I take for granted how easy it is to mold myself into a version of me that others find more acceptable. At forty, I believe I have almost tamed the desire to please others.

  It was a long and not always healthy road that I traveled on in my search for self. I make no secret of the fact that I have known I was different since I was four years old. What not everyone knows about are the years between four and twenty-six when I discovered my courage. I was raised in a very religious household. I was raised with a very distinct set of core beliefs, coupled with an overwhelming desire to do as I was expected. At twenty-two, I married a member of the church and set about playing the perfect couple, with just the right amount of involvement in church activities.

  As the years went by, the dark secret that I hid bubbled just beneath the surface. I tried to hide it and thought I did. After four years of marriage, I was miserable. I fought depression for many months. I got to a point where I believed that the easiest way out was to end my life. I chose a violent end because I wanted to make sure I didn’t fail. Fortunately, I thought of my nephew and I just kept telling myself don’t leave behind something horrible that your family would have to explain to him.

  I chose the second way out. I came out, left the church and started divorce proceedings. On one hand, I felt free. On the other hand, I lost everything: my friends, a lot of my family, everything that I identified myself with for the past twenty-six years. My mother, whom I was closer to than anyone, didn’t talk to me for two years. My best friend and confidant was also a distant memory. Fortunately, my father supported me through all of it.

  It took a long time for me to build up a new network of friends; people who didn’t judge me based on who I loved or condemn me because the Bible says being gay is wrong. I look back on my twenty-six-year old self with gratitude for saving my life. The struggle became as much a part of me as my hair or eye color. It defined me. It made me stronger than the demons that haunted me for so long. I can’t live, love or write without it defining some characteristics in my stories.

  This book touches on those parts of my life. I’ve met many people who have shared a similar journey and prevailed, or those who are just at the beginning. I hope, in a small way, sharing my experience will help them see that they are not alone. It doesn’t have to end badly. We can’t determine the length or severity of the struggle, but hopefully we find the strength to win.

  To everyone who is looking down a dark road, with no hope in sight, don’t give up. You may not see the light now, but never stop fighting. Be true to yourself. Don’t live someone else’s life. Just be you!

  Sarah, you were there, too. You know my struggle and my fears, but you never run away. Thank you for holding me when all I wanted to do was run.

  Steph, thank you for throwing my own advice back in my face and forcing me to take it. You remind me that I’m not as smart as I think sometimes.

  Terry, looking back, I never thought I would make it to this point. I’m still here because of you.

  To my amazing editors: Chief Owl in Charge, SZ, TB, Irish, and LB. Thank you for cleaning up my ramblings. You are more special than you know!

  To my readers for allowing me to take some liberties with the rules, I am honored.

  “Kevin Jordan said this: ‘I’m just really thankful. I don’t think I have the words for it in my vocabulary.’

  Few of us do. That’s why we turn to the Latin.”

  - The Gift, Steve Duin. Wake Forest Magazine, June 2011

  “Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori.”

  Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love.

  (Virgil)

  Chapter One

  September 2013

  Randy Jordan Field had changed very little, except it seemed smaller than she remembered. Otherwise, it was the same baseball field today as it was twenty years ago, which was comforting in the way a strong hug was. Sawyer Evans still smiled every time she saw the halo bearing her alma mater’s initials: CHS. Columbus High School. The small stadium in Columbus, Georgia felt more like home than most places she’d been. She took one last look at the field and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of the fresh-cut grass. She smiled when the smell of old leather, carried by a gentle southern breeze, wafted into her nostrils. She blocked out every sound around her save the thud of Kevin Carter’s foot as he toed the pitcher’s mound. She pictured him staring down the batter, rolling the ball gently in his palm until he felt the laces fall into place. She imagined his body coiling into the perfect stance; his left arm curved in front of him, and his glove tucked firmly against his chest, before his tightly coiled body released and stretched toward the plate with barely constrained strength. Less than a second passed before she picked up the faint whistle of the ball as it hurtled through the air. Thump!

  “Ninety-two.” Sawyer opened one eye and checked the radar. The display registered ninety-two miles per hour. A self-assured smile spread over Sawyer’s face, accentuating the dimple on her right cheek. A dimple that was known to get her in trouble a time or two. She felt the woman beside her lean over to view the radar, and she chuckled softly. “Lucky guess.”

  Bellamy Carter’s brown eyes studied Sawyer’s face for several seconds before she replied. “I doubt it. You probably do that all the time.”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Nah, I always say ninety-two. I just happened to nail it this time. It’s like Margaret Thatcher.”

  “Margaret Thatcher?” Bellamy looked confused. “What does she have to do with baseball?”

  “Margaret Thatcher is the standard answer in all of our Trivial Pursuit games when you don’t know the right one. Sooner or later, it’s the correct guess.” Sawyer stuck her hand out toward the woman. “Sawyer Evans. Delta State.”

  Bellamy slid her hand into Sawyer’s and shook it firmly. She felt an immediate connection as Sawyer’s fingers enveloped hers. She pinned Sawyer with an inquisitive stare, not sure why she felt drawn to a woman she’d only just met. As she studied her twinkling gray eyes, she trusted her gut, as she had in the past, knowing it wouldn’t let her down. “Bellamy Carter.”

  “Carter?” Sawyer tossed her head toward the field to ask the obvious question.

  Bellamy smiled and bowed her head graciously. “Yes, Kevin is my son.”

  “He’s a pretty good ball player. Hell of an arm.”

  “You obviously know baseball.” Bellamy touched the radar as she spoke.

  “I guess you could say it’s my life.” Sawyer set the radar down and pulled a business card out of her pocket. She attempted to straighten one of the edges. “I’m the head coach at Delta State. Go Fighting Okra.” Sawyer punctuated the fight call with her index finger pointed skyward.

  Bellamy’s face registered surprise, before it di
sappeared just as quickly. “You’re a long way from home, Coach.”She watched Kevin’s practiced wind up out of the corner of her eye, wondering at the oddly-timed visit. “You know you missed the other schools by a few weeks. Most of them have already contacted us with offers to visit their campuses.”

  Sawyer tilted her head nonchalantly, not incredibly bothered by the news. “Has Kevin committed to a school yet?”

  “No.” Bellamy watched her son hurl another strike. “He’s leaning toward Wake Forest.”

  “Ron’s a good coach.” Sawyer picked up the radar again and aimed it in Kevin’s direction. “Got a decent record. The bullpen is pretty deep. I’d hate to see Kevin sidelined until his sophomore or junior year, waiting for a spot in the rotation. Shame to waste that kind of talent.”

  “I suppose.” Bellamy recognized the same fierce hunger that burned in her own soul. Sawyer was a bit less direct than she was, but Bellamy didn’t doubt she got her way more often than not.

  Sawyer didn’t see the expression on Bellamy’s face, but she could feel the unspoken acceptance of her statement. “Heard the Yankees were interested in him. Is Kevin considering signing if they draft him?”

  “You really do know your stuff.” Bellamy’s tone of astonishment was evident. She wasn’t sure how or where Sawyer picked up that bit of information. “Kevin’s talked to the scout, of course. He’s eighteen; getting noticed by a major-league team is a big deal. At the end of the day, I’ll let Kevin decide. Between you and me, I would rather he continue with his schooling, even if it means going somewhere without a great baseball program.”

  Sawyer cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Is that something Kevin agrees with?”

  Bellamy sighed. “Kevin is young. He can be brash sometimes. He eats, sleeps and breathes this game. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. I would never discourage him, but I want him to know there is a whole world out there that doesn’t revolve around baseball.”

  “You do know baseball is the national pastime of the United States?”

  Bellamy burst out laughing, more tickled by the incredulous look on Sawyer’s face than the statement.

  Sawyer turned in time to catch the smile that spread across Bellamy’s face. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like…”

  “Halle Berry. Yes, a few times.” Bellamy patted her short brown hair self-consciously. She hadn’t had the pixie cut long, and she wasn’t completely used to her hair being gone. Being compared to Halle Berry certainly helped erase some of her self-doubt. “I think the likeness ends with the hair.”

  Sawyer gave Bellamy a slow once over before replying. “You’re right. You’re much better looking than she is.”

  Bellamy’s cheeks felt warm, and she prayed Sawyer couldn’t see the tinge of pink beneath her almond-colored skin. She wasn’t accustomed to being flattered in such an easy manner. Bellamy had to admit it felt good to be noticed.

  A smile spread across Sawyer’s face. She liked Bellamy Carter immediately. Sawyer shielded her eyes from the bright summer sun as she scanned the width of the field. The stadium was small, as most high school stadiums were. The dugouts were a dusty mess of dirt, gear and jocular teenaged boys, alternating between watching the action on the field and awkwardly spitting sunflower seed shells on the ground. “Reminds me of being a kid again.”

  “Did you watch a lot of baseball growing up?”

  Sawyer shook her head from side-to-side. “I played a lot. Pitcher like Kevin. Of course, I didn’t have the heat on it that he does. And I certainly didn’t carry his batting average. It’s no wonder that the Yankees are interested in him.” Sawyer’s eyes focused on Kevin again. As a pitcher, she could appreciate the fluidity in his pitching. It was effortless. There was no hitch anywhere in the wind-up, and his technique was flawless. She watched another ball find its way over the middle of the plate. “In your opinion, what’s Kevin’s weakest pitch?”

  Bellamy’s eyes cut to her son. “I can’t say any of his pitches are weak. If you asked Kevin, he would tell you his change-up. He works on it constantly and always complains it is too much like his fastball. My son is a bit of a perfectionist.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Sawyer understood the self-imposed drive to be perfect. She had it. In some ways, she’d learned to tame it. However, there were still times when she threw batting practice, that she would feel the old monster rear its ugly head. Sawyer handed Bellamy the radar gun. She stood up and stretched her 5’10” frame. She groaned and rubbed her lower back with her palms. “I’m definitely too old to spend hours on these hard bleachers.”

  “You and me both.” Bellamy’s eyes traveled the length of Sawyer’s body. Her dirty-blond hair was gathered into a ponytail and tucked through the hole in her green Delta State cap. She wore a gray baseball jersey that hung loosely over tight-fitting softball shorts. Sawyer’s muscles rippled beneath the material, toned from years of physical training. Bellamy felt a twinge of jealousy as she thought of her own body, softened by age and a child. The feeling passed quickly as she watched Sawyer descend the bleachers and head toward Coach Howard. There was a time she looked that way, but life had taken her on a different path, and she didn’t regret it for a moment. Besides, today, she looked like Halle Berry. At least, Sawyer thought so. Bellamy’s hand slid up her chest and rested on her neck nervously as she realized that the brief compliment from Sawyer touched her more than she expected. She shook her head and focused on Kevin. It would do her no good to sit and swoon over something as trivial as a kind word from a stranger.

  Sawyer stopped beside the coach and pounded him on the back. “How’s the crop, Coach?”

  Coach Howard enveloped Sawyer in a massive bear hug. “Good to see you, Evans. You still beating up the boys in the neighborhood?”

  Sawyer smiled sheepishly. “Always.” Sawyer pulled away from Coach Howard and stood beside him, her arms akimbo. “Team looks pretty good this year. Shooting for State, again?”

  “Always.” Coach Howard followed Sawyer’s gaze to his star player. “We’ve got a good shot at it this year. Lambert finished second in the rankings last year, but they graduated half their bullpen, and Corr is heading to Florida Southwestern.”

  “He’s going the college route, huh?” Sawyer wasn’t surprised by the move. A high school coach with two regional titles and a Class 6A championship was easy pickings for a smaller state college. “Can’t say as I blame him. At least, you have one more year with Kevin.”

  “Mmhm.” The acknowledgement came out slowly, with a twinge of humor behind it. “A lot of schools are after him, Sawyer. This kid’s going places.”

  “I know.” Sawyer toed the ground and watched the dry dirt circle around her shoe before it settled back down. “I got a feeling about him, Coach. I think I can get him to come to Delta.”

  Coach Howard shrugged. He’d known Sawyer since she was barely tall enough to reach his hip. He’d watched her navigate her way through travel ball, making Little League teams, and finally pitching for him at Columbus High School. He couldn’t remember anyone that had control of the ball quite like Sawyer. He briefly remembered the acute heartache she’d felt at not getting drafted to play on the college level. It didn't stop her though. She’d started coaching as soon as she finished her degree in sports medicine. Now, sixteen years later, Sawyer had made her way up to head coach at a small, but accomplished college. Coach Howard couldn’t have been prouder if she’d been his own daughter. He knew that if Sawyer had something in mind, she was a bulldog about it. Not in an aggressive way. She was smoother than that. Sweet and smooth like a good southern peach mint julep, and just as persuasive. “I’m sure you heard Wake is interested. Hard to pass up an offer from a program like that.”

  “Maybe.” Sawyer heard the satisfying sound of another fast ball hitting the pocket of the catcher’s glove. “That’s why I waited as long as I did. I wanted Kevin to meet the other coaches, so he could have something to compare me to. Ron’s a great guy, but I see in Kevin a little bit o
f myself. There’s a fire inside him, threatening to well up and burn out. I can control that fire. I don’t think Ron can. And I know for damn sure that he’s not ready for the pros. Triple A will chew him up and spit him out. He’ll hate the game.” She watched Kevin trot in from throwing practice. She recognized the sheer joy on his face. The joy of doing something you love and knowing you do it well. She craned her neck and watched him as he laid his glove down and slugged back a Gatorade. “He’s gonna be somebody; that's for sure. He just needs the right person to guide him.”

  “It isn’t just Kevin that needs guidance.”

  Sawyer followed Coach Howard’s eyes, watching them light on Bellamy Carter. She let her eyes rest on Bellamy’s face, appreciating how beautiful she was, liking the fact that she didn’t know it. She did resemble Halle Berry, but only at first glance. She felt Bellamy’s eyes on her, and she waggled her fingers, shooting her a dazzling smile. Reluctantly, Sawyer pulled her gaze away. “We spoke briefly. I think Bellamy understands that I have Kevin’s best interests at heart, even if that means not choosing Delta.”

  Coach Howard opened his mouth to issue a sarcastic rebuttal then laughed at the chagrined look on Sawyer’s face. “I’m confident you will make it very difficult to turn you down.” Coach Howard pushed away from the chain-link fence and gestured toward the dugout. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Sawyer followed Coach Howard through a break in the fence, letting her hand trail along the metal as she had done as a kid. So much time had passed, but it felt like only yesterday. Her mind flashed back to a time so long ago it should have been only a distant memory; however, the picture seemed as clear as though she’d just taken it. She stared down the invisible line between the mound and home plate, absentmindedly kicking the rubber with her right foot. She waved pitch after pitch off until her catcher threw out the signal for a change-up. Sawyer’s favorite pitch. It helped balance out her lack of speed in high school. As the boys matured and caught up to her, the advantage of speed started to slip away, and she relied on her off-speed pitches to fill the gap. Sawyer’s eyes flicked to the mound, and she pictured her younger self hurling the pitch, swallowing a satisfied smile as the batter swung and missed, his timing off as his eyes told him fastball.