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colton
“Run, run, run, you got it, keep going!”
“Don’t stop, Colton!”
“Go home, go home, go home!”
The sound of my teammates screaming spurs me on as I round third, and I kick it into high gear as I sprint home.
If I calculated correctly, the ball should have gotten to the second baseman, a teacher from the elementary school who has a shitty arm and shouldn’t be playing second base, as I rounded third. Which means I should have just enough time to make it home if I slide.
Fuck I haven’t done this in so long.
15 feet. 11 feet. 7 feet. My long legs eat up the distance, and then I launch myself forward, my arms stretched out in front of me as my body slides over home plate.
“Safe!”
The sound of the umpire calling it sends a surge of excitement and energy racing through me, and I hear the reactions of people from both teams as I hop up to my feet.
There truly is nothing like being on a diamond, even one as small as this with nobody in the stands watching, and I didn’t realize until this very moment how much I missed it.
My team surrounds me, and we all jump up and down, shouting with joy, my race across home giving us a one-run lead that wins us the game.
“Hey Davies, maybe next time warn us if you’re gonna bring in some secret weapon,” a guy from the other team calls over to Greg. “We’ll be better prepared.”
Greg laughs, and the guy shakes his hand then introduces himself to me.
“Martin Furman. I’m a history teacher at Santa Barbara Middle.”
I nod. “Colton Palmer. History at Sandalwood Secondary. Well, for the summer at least.”
“Ah, my equal, and yet clearly my superior,” he jokes, pointing first to his head and then to his body. “If you’re looking for something in the fall, I’m pretty sure one of the gals in history at the high school is going on maternity leave. Might be a good foot in the door for something?”
I shake my head but keep my smile. “I appreciate it, but I’m a college professor. I’m just doing this summer school gig until I land something more permanent.”
Martin shrugs. “Keep it in the back of your mind, at least. Would love to have you on our side during the fall softball games.”
We chuckle and shake hands again, and then Martin heads off in the direction of his own team as I follow Greg over to ours at the bleachers.
“Thanks so much for inviting me,” I tell him as I dust off my chest, knowing this shirt is probably stained irreparably. “I had a blast.”
“Absolutely, thanks for coming. Martin may have sounded like he was joking, but we really did luck out adding you to our team. We normally suck.”
I burst out laughing then take a swig of my water, enjoying the praise.
“Well, count me in for the season. I talked with my nanny and she said she’s good to watch my son on Wednesdays.”
Greg bobs his head. “Oh that’s right, you’ve got a kid. He’s young right?”
“Yeah. Almost four.”
“Gosh, I remember when my Amber was that young. She’s turning 13 at the end of the summer and she cannot wait to be a teenager.” He rolls his eyes. “I miss when she was a rug rat who enjoyed running through mudpuddles in her diaper.”
I grin, thinking about Teddy, how fast he’s growing.
For the first time when thinking about my son, I’m not overly emotional about the fact I’m not there to see every second of his life. Yeah, it would be great if I could see it all, but I know he’s with Emily, and I’m beginning to realize I really do trust her with him.
Plus, getting these kinds of moments where I’m shooting the shit with a new friend, playing sports, having some time to myself—I’m truly shocked by how much I’m realizing I needed this. Not because I want to be away from my son, but because I forgot there is so much more to life than just being a parent.
