𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 | 𝐛. 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐳

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧

    THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN AND CAL WALKS THROUGH THEM, a laugh suppressed in his throat. He turns his head, a smile on his mouth. I approach him, turning my head. I catch a quick glimpse of someone in the Elevator. They're female—I can tell by their body shape. I catch a glimpse of curled blonde hair sitting beneath a beat-up old Dodgers baseball cap. I spot watery blue eyes sitting behind thick black lashes. I spot a beautiful girl. A beautiful woman. I spot Lennon Davis. As the words in my throat hitch, so to does my breath. It's been seven long years full of nightmares. Seven years full of dreams. Seven years full of sleepless nights and sleeping through the day. Seven years of being alone and wishing I wasn't. Seven years of waiting for Lennon.
"Cal, who was that?" I ask. "She looked really pretty."
He smiles, shrugging. Cal's been my best friend since I got into the Dodgers.
"Finder's, keeper's pal. You know the rules. But, hey, maybe I'll let the next one come your way." He says.
He winks. I shake my head. There shouldn't be a 'next one'. Lennon isn't a girl you just use and toss away. She's a keeper. She's one to bring home to mom. She's a good one. A good one who hurts people they care about. She's two-faced.
"Whatever, loser. Let's get going. You're so late for change out." I say, shoving him towards the locker room.
"Watch out, man. This jacket is dry-clean only." He says.
     I roll my eyes and shove him even harder, making him trip over his shoe.
     "Oh, don't even try to flex on me. We both know I get paid more than you do." I say.

* * * * *

I swing the bat, warming up before my actual batting practice before the game. My mind keeps drifting to Lennon... Or someone who looks like Lennon. I got a half a second's worth of a glance at her—I could be completely mistaken. Or, at least, that's what I thought until I saw her name up on the screens next to a picture of her. I sigh, returning to my focus—the ball and the bat. Batting always gets my nerves out. Batting is my passion.
     "So, who was that with you in the elevator, Cal?" I ask.
He cocks an eyebrow. He knows that I typically don't get involved with people I don't know. He knows that I've been hurt before.
"Oh, no you don't. Finder's keepers, Benny. I already told you that. You can have her when I'm done. Besides, why do you care so much?" He asks.
Why do I care so much? I shouldn't. She hurt me. She broke my heart.
"We're dating." Cal's voice enters my ears and my heart stops.
I turn and look at him. My eyes are wide and my fists are clenched tightly.
"What? You're what?" I ask, my voice hoarse from the anger and fear.
He cocks an eyebrow, his lips curled downwards into a frown.
"I said 'It's not like we're dating'. Are you okay, Benny?" He asks.
     I nod. I need to get over Lennon. What's going on with me today? Seeing Lennon again must've made something snap inside. Or something mend...
     "You need to shut the Hell up, Cal," I state, harshly. "You shouldn't go through girls like they're single-use. It's a wonder why you're single—you dispose of women left and right. You're supposed to give 'em your heart, let them keep it. You—you screw 'em and forget their name."
He furrows his eyebrows, a scowl pulling on his lips.
"There's something about Lennon that bothers you. It's like you know her or something. But, whatever it is, you need to push past it. She's not yours." I say.
     I nod, shrugging my shoulders. She stands at the opposite dugout, wearing a pair of torn-up blue jeans, a navy and white striped tee-shirt, a pair of P.F. Flyers and her old Dodgers cap. I walk into the dugout and part my lips, wanting to talk with her. I want an explanation. But I know I'll never get one. She spins around, facing the camera. I watch her face up on the screen. She's even prettier than I remember. Seven years ago, we made promises to each other—promises of love and forgiveness. Promises that died the day she left.
     "I'll miss you every minute of every hour of every day of every week and you won't even know."
I promised to always be there. I promised to always love her and she didn't even reciprocate.
     "You won't even notice I'm gone. In three days, I turn eighteen. And when I do, I'm buying a ticket to San Fernando Valley and flying back home. It'll be like I just went on a quick road trip, that's all."
     She said she'd come back to San Fernando Valley—said she'd come back home. She never came back.
     Out of Anger and pain, I accepted the offer to try out for the Minors and left. I haven't been back since. She wraps a deep navy bomber jacket and fixes her sleeve. I smile at the thought of playing catch with her on the walk home from school all those years ago. I open my eyes and see her looking back over at my dugout. I drop the smile and look down at my bat.
     "Cal, hand me that tape. I need to fix my bat grip." I say, distracting myself.
     I turn around, walking away from the entrance to hide in the back of the dugout. This game is one for the books—I need to focus. Lennon Davis shouldn't be here.