Disclaimer: This is part of an original work of fiction. No swiping. Thanks. Enjoy.
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Dedicated to: KillerKingKatie, my newest vocal fan. Thank you so much for your lovely comment on the last.
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The entire crowd gets to their feet as Melony Harper, our choir's star soprano, is handed a microphone. When she begins singing the Star Spangled Banner, all of the players standing down in the diamond remove their hats, placing them over their hearts. When Melony hits the high note, holding it out, I find myself making a wish- for Emily to play the best game that she could ever ask to.
One thing that I never take into account when I make wishes is that sometimes, life has other plans.
Emily pitched a fantastic game- but the other pitcher (who was smaller than I am) pitched better. Our team played well- but the other team played better.
We lost. Badly. Quite badly.
As I lean on the wall outside the locker room, which is quieter than I've ever heard the team be, I stare at my shoes, wondering what I can say to them. What do you say to a really great team that just didn't win?
I can't think of anything.
When Emily walks out with bags of ice and one of Jonathon's arms wrapped around her shoulders, I don't say anything. She is chewing on her bottom lip and looking at the ground.
"Hey, Amazon," I say softly.
"Hey."
I open my arms and beckon to her.
"Bring it in, you."
She drops her duffel bag with a clunk and steps into my arms. She buries her face in my shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her hands grasping my shoulder blades from behind. I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her shampoo and hard work, patting the back of her head. She isn't crying, but I can feel her shaking just a bit as she breathes. Over her shoulder, Jonathon is trying to do almost anything he can to not invade our private moment.
"Hey, it's okay," I say softly.
She doesn't reply, she just shakes her head violently in the crook of my neck.
"No, I promise it is," I assure her. "Because the other pitcher wasn't nearly as pretty as ours."
"The other pitcher was a guy," she mumbles into my shoulder.
"Yeah, and he wasn't even a pretty guy," I whisper.
This time when she shakes, I can tell that she's giggling.
I step back and glance at her, a weak smile playing across her face.
"See there? Now you've gone and blown his chances at being attractive right out of the water."
"Thanks," she says smiling.
"Anytime, gorgeous," I reply, kissing her on the forehead.
As she steps away to finish zipping her bag closed, Rusty and Sellers walk out of the locker room. Closely following them are G, Dan, Kyle, and Aiden.
"I'm telling you," Sellers says as he walks past us, "there's no way in hell we would have lost this game last year."
"Bullshit," replies Rusty. "We couldn't even have made it to playoffs last year if we sold our souls to the devil for it."
"I still think we had a stronger team last year," argues Sellers, sending a quick glance over his shoulder toward Emily, Jonathon and I. "Less distractions, too."
YOU ARE READING
Tea For Two
Humor"Just wondering, Shoemaker. Are you going to tell your parents? Or should I?" When I was little, I was terribly afraid of heights. One day, in a bleak attempt to rid me of this, my father climbed onto the roof of our one story house with me on his b...
