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"If my memory serves me right, you've met some pretty great people in small bars," I tease.
She laughs and shoves my arm playfully. I counter the movement to balance myself and avoid falling into the sand.
She speaks softly now. "So, honestly, I don't really have any friends here. I feel like such an outsider, not a tourist but definitely not a local. I spend my time either here or at home reading or drawing."
I nod sympathetically, understanding the feeling of loneliness more than she could ever know.
"You could surf," I offer, suggesting one of my own favorite activities in town.
To my surprise, she throws her head back and lets out a great burst of laughter. She laughs loudly and freely, a sound that was music to my ears.
"Me? Surfing? That's a good one," she replies, still smiling.
"Look," I defend the sport, "anyone can learn to surf, even you."
She scoffs again, still clearly unconvinced. "It would take an incredibly patient human to teach me," she begins, lifting her hands in amusement. "I have the balance of Bambi on ice!"
"Well," I say, leaning back into the sand and stretching my back, sore from a day of work, "you're in luck. You're looking at the master surf teacher himself." I let out a smug puff of air, and she raises a skeptical eyebrow in my direction.
"The great, almighty Zak will take time out of his busy schedule to teach an uneducated city girl like me to surf?" she teases.
"Not for nothing; I want you to teach me to paint in exchange." I decide that condition in the moment,
She laughs louder now. “Now that WILL take an incredibly patient human.”
"You saying I've not got the artistic skill?!" I accuse, deciding to gently wrestle with her. She squeals and tries to worm her way out of my clutches. His attempts are futile; I have her pinned beneath me.
She stops struggling and looks up at me, breathless from the energy used to try to escape. I realize the compromising position we are in and will myself to move, but I can’t. It would be so easy to kiss her right now; all I have to do is lean in.
She seems to be thinking the same thing as she closes her eyes and parts her lips. I am an inch away from her mouth when the glaring sound of a car horn makes me jump and bump my head into hers.
"Ow!" she cries, rubbing her head.
"Shit, sorry, are you okay?"
She frowns. "Yeah, I'm fine. You can go grab the food."
Relieved, I quickly get to my feet and fetch our dinner. I had to get up and leave that situation before I make a mistake. Another mistake, I mentally correct myself.
As we eat together, the tension from the near kiss slowly melts away, replaced by an easiness that seems to flow between us. She hesitates for a moment, then speaks. "I shared with you why I'm here. A loser with no plans on a Saturday night. Now I have a question for you."
“Go for it.” My body goes stiff, nervous about what she is about to ask. But I’m not ready for her to leave yet, so I gulp and nod for her to continue.
"Tell me about the incident, you know, on the pitch with your hand,” she proceeds in a soft tone, and reaches out to lightly place her hand on top of mine. That same hand that had cost me so much - my career, my dreams, my pride. I close my eyes and sigh, ready to have an honest conversation.
I take a deep breath. I don’t like sharing this story, but looking into Izzie's questioning and understanding eyes, I realize I could tell it. Casting myself back to that time, I began to talk.
“ It was the biggest night of my life. A grudge match between me and the other team's pitcher. We'd been enemies on and off the field. I had just sealed a multi-million dollar deal with the most prestigious baseball team in the country. Dave was happy for me, actually; even though I'd be leaving our team, he only wanted to see me succeed, and I was feeling on top of the world.” I pause, remembering that feeling, basking in the moment before I continue. Izzie listens patiently, smiling at the mention of her father.
“Everything was going my way, and I was convinced my batting career was only going to get better. I had achieved everything I'd ever wanted, and I was looking forward to a successful and lucrative future ahead of me. Little did I know that was the night that would change my life forever. All it took was one little mistake. I was a determined batter, and I was just minutes away from making my mark in the world of professional baseball. I decided to take a risk, and I was about to swing for the fences when the pitcher threw a nasty ball that went flying toward my hand and struck right in the center, shattering my bones in a few places. I was heartbroken. The humiliation and shame that I felt in that moment was absolutely unbearable. I lost my deal and my dignity. I was determined to fight through it, though, and went through multiple surgeries and months of grueling physical therapy. But despite my best efforts, I have been unable to swing a bat since that tournament. My injury has left me feeling defeated and broken; it's been so hard to come to terms with the fact that my baseball career is over.” My breath shudders as I finish my story. I haven’t told anyone so much detail since it happened a decade ago. Yet here I am, pouring my heart out to Izzie and not regretting a single word.
"So…how do you feel about it now?" she whispers, stroking my hand with her thumb, offering me more comfort than she would ever realize.
“Slowly, I’ve started to accept that this was just one moment in my life, and I can’t let it define me. Now I'm focused on building a new life while cherishing the memory of my old one. I'm proud that I once had the chance to play professional baseball—even if it did end in an embarrassing way."
"I don't think it's embarrassing at all," she whispers again.“I think you’re amazing.” Her blue eyes lock into mine.
Izzie
