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He nods as he looks around the place himself. “Yeah. I’m happy with how it turned out. Best part is, I love seeing the kids get better in here.”
“I’m sure, especially with you as their teacher. I always thought you would go pro.”
He presses his lips together and goes back to what he was doing with the nets. I haven’t heard why his dreams fell short, and I know right now isn’t the time, so I walk over and pick up a bat that was sitting along the wall.
“Remember when you used to try to teach me how to hit?” I ask as I swing the bat, looking like the epitome of who people think of when they say,You swing like a girl.
He laughs, shaking his head as he continues to push the cages back. “You were horrible.”
I take another swing.
“Looks like you still are.” He stops what he was doing and walks toward me. “Remember, stand up straight, throw your bottom hand, and let your top hand follow. You’re trying to push the bat forward instead of swing with both hands.”
I do as he said, and it feels slightly less awkward.
“Here.” He stops me and walks to get a black stand that sits about three feet tall and sets a ball on top of it, then steps out of the way. “Stand right here and try to hit the ball that way.”
I take a swing and go right over it, the air from my movement making the ball fall down. He laughs, then stops quickly when I eye him and goes to pick up the ball and places it back on the stand.
“Keep your head down—eyes on the ball this time.” He steps back out of the way.
I listen to what he said and take another swing, this time smacking the ball, which hits the net in front of us.
I jump up in surprise. “I did it!”
He grins as he crosses his arms. “That you did. Only took you how many years?”
“Well, you never had this stand thing. That makes it a lot easier.”
“It’s called a tee. And, yeah, I didn’t carry one around in high school.”
I lower my eyes to him. “Maybe if you had, I would have been able to hit back then too.”
He smirks and goes to set up another ball. “Okay, Miss Could Have Been a Softball Queen, let’s keep going.”
I swing and hit the ball, just not as good this time. I keep my lips pursed and only move my eyes to him.
He raises his eyebrows. “It takes a lot of practice.” He places another one on the tee. “Keep going.”
I hit a few more, and none have the same success as my first one, but at least I’m hitting them.
“Here.” He walks up behind me and first puts his hands on my hips to square them up to the tee and then my arms to position them the way he wants.
Having him so close to me makes my heart pound, and I take a moment to calm my breath, hoping he can’t tell the effect he’s having on me.
“Swing again,” he whispers in my ear when he realizes I am just standing there like a statue.
I twitch slightly, which, of course, gets me out of the position he just put me in, but I swing right away, so he doesn’t come close again.
The ball goes flying in the air and knocks the net back a few feet with some force.
I turn with a huge smile on my face. “I did it!”
What I see takes me back to the past. Suddenly, I’m not staring at the man I just met again. No. All I see is the boy I loved so many years ago. The same Matthew who used to pick me up to take me anywhere I needed to go, who would get his ass beat in baseball and then shower as quickly as possible so we could spend time together.
We stare at each other for a few breaths until we hear the old barn door slide open.
In walks a kid who yells out, “Hey, Coach!” as he enters and sets his stuff down where Matthew has cubbies set up to do so.
