39. Cat

39

CAT

There was only so long that I could hide in the dugout. And when the ref blew his whistle, I knew my time was up.

Swallowing hard, I pulled my old, peeling glove from my bag and gave it a smack. "You better come through for me," I whispered as I slipped it under my armpit.

Our team – nicknamed the Teal Steel for the purposes of this Championship – took the field, each player finding their position. I tried to keep my head down as I approached the pitcher's mound, a light clap coming from the stands.

The umpire wiped off the long rubber strip at the top of the sand pile. When I got closer, I held out my hand to shake hers. She wore a navy blue uniform and a matching cap, smiling as she shook my hand. "Good game today. Protect that arm, alright? We don't like injuries here."

"Of course, ump. Thanks for being here, it means a lot to the league." I nodded, placing my other hand over our shake.

Once the umpire walked toward home plate, I felt a warm palm on my formerly-injured shoulder. "You ready?" Their gentle voice calmed my nerves.

Letting out a sigh, I shrugged. "Not quite, but I've gotta rip the bandage off at some point."

"That's true." Cleo nodded and looked into my eyes, their endless blues a sea I could've been lost in for decades. "Just remember, it's you and me out there. The rest of it doesn't matter."

They were right. I'd have to do everything I could to stay centered. If I managed that, the rest would follow. "Let's get it done."

"Atta girl." Cleo winked as they headed toward home plate.

I scuffed my cleats in the sand, getting some traction on them as everyone took their place. Trying to calm the blood pounding in my ear, I closed my eyes and ducked my head. I hoped the bill of my cap would cover my face as I took a moment to breathe.

"Batter up!" The umpire called.

Listening closer, I let myself take in the day. The sun warmed my skin as a cool breeze blew over me, my long hair lightly tickling the back of my neck. From the stands, I could hear kids playing, adult chatter, and the sound of cars in the parking lot crunching gravel under their tires.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to the plate where a woman in an orange jersey measured herself up to the plate. Her bat twirled in her hand as she got into position.

Already squatted down, Cleo was covered in their gear. But even from the forty-three-foot distance, I could see their eyes shining at me. I nodded, this is what we'd work for all season.

Before I got into position, I scanned the stands behind them. Just past the backstop, a crowd of locals settled into the bleachers. My heart stopped when my eyes stopped on a familiar face. Sitting toward the edge of the small set of metal bleachers was my old co-captain. She wore sunglasses and a black cap to hide her face.

But I recognized her immediately.

Shaking the feeling, I knew the best thing I could do was stay light. So my eyes kept moving, this time landing on my brother and his family. As Meredith tried to wrangle the kids, Daniel waved at me and pumped his fists.

It made me chuckle as I rolled my shoulders back.

No more stalling. Go time.

Nodding to the umpire, Cleo, and the batter, everyone quieted.

The batter lifted her metal bat and kept her eye on the neon softball in my hand.

Cleo settled onto their heels, holding up their glove for my pitch.

Nice and easy.

I held my peeling glove and the ball to my chest and took in a big breath. With my bare hand, I gripped the softball and began my windup with. Arching my arm backward over my head and allowing it to swiftly fall down to my hip while taking a large step forward, I released my grip right as my hand was parallel with my body.

My right leg dragged behind me as the ball hurtled toward home plate.

The batter swung wildly at the pitch, more concerned with getting hit by the speeding ball than actually making contact with it. Cleo's glove closed around the ball, a loud smack coming from the leather.

"Strike!" The umpire hollered.

Throwing the ball back to me, Cleo hooted. "That's it, Collins."

I smiled as I caught the ball and got back into position.

My chest warmed with a strange feeling. Trying not to get caught up in myself, I pitched the ball again. I kept my form as close as possible.

This time, the metal bat clinked against the hurting ball and sent it flying into the outfield. From home plate, the batter took off toward first base. But our outfielders were already underneath the ball, ready to catch it.

Once the ball clapped into their gloves, the umpire clenched her fist near her head. "Out!"

The stands clapped as the next batter made their way onto the field.

Cleo took the time to stretch their legs and point at me. "Let's fucking go, baby!"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I shook my head. The warm feeling came back to my lungs. It was something I hadn't felt in years. Cleo had done something miraculous: they had brought back my love of the game.