Page 3 of Love on the Sidelines

I reach out my hand to shake and he takes mine, making every nerve in my hand tingle. He shakes my hand, giving me a sly grin. Oh great, he hasn’t changed one bit.

“He’s good. Probably in the Mediterranean Sea‌,” I say.

“Lucky guy. He always knew where to find the fun.”

I purse my lips, wondering if Charlie remembered what Bobby’s career entailed. Deep-sea welding isn’t something I’d call fun. He’s basically giving the water a chance to take his life every time he dives in.

Tina asks about the man standing next to Charlie. “This is Paul,” Charlie says. “He’s been playing for over a year now.”

“Women versus men?” Tina asks.

“You might not be happy that today is my first day,” I whisper to her.

Tina chuckles and says, “It’s all in good fun. Unless we place bets. Then things get interesting.”

What can be that interesting about pickleball? Is there a hazing ritual I didn’t stumble upon in my research?

Charlie nods. “Perfect. Rock, paper, scissors for first serve?”

I frown, turning to look at his mother. Maybe I was expecting chivalry, but–

“North side goes first,” Tina says with a smile, taking the ball to the back line of the court. Charlie grins at me and takes a few steps into the box on his side. “0-0-1.”

From all I’ve learned today, that means the score and what number of serve we’re on.

She hits it to Paul, since the ball has to go into the box opposite of where the server stands. He volleys it over to me and I’m able to get it over the net, but only barely in. Paul misses the ball and Charlie has to chase it.

“Nice,” Tina says, giving me a high-five. I smile and switch to the next box, getting ready for the serve.

After nearly thirty minutes, the set is close.

Charlie raises his eyebrows and says, “You’ve never played before?” He walks over to pick up the ball by the fence.

I shake my head and try to not let his approving look affect me. From everything I remember, this guy was a ladies’ man, one who has no problem swaying women to hang out with him. I’ve never been good at being a second or a seventh choice, so I shut down those feelings right now.

It’s my turn to serve, and I send it into Charlie’s square. It bounces once, and he sends it to his mom, who volleys it back. Paul hits it over to me and I take a big swing, sending the ball flying… right into Charlie’s face.

At first, I feel victorious.

Sure, the guy was impressed that I’ve only been playing for the last ninety minutes, but we’d battled in other sports growing up. He’s the reigning P-I-G champion with me as a close second. Bobby was never that competitive, mostly loving the entertainment our games gave him.

But then I see blood.

My stomach tightens and I try to breathe out slowly, wishing I could redo the last minute.

“Are you all right?” I ask, walking up to the net.

His mom stands right next to me, but since he hasn’t moved, she jogs around the net to inspect the injury.

Blood. Why is there blood? My stomach twists at the sight.

He pulls his hand away from his eye and I see a small stream of red trickling down the side of his face. We use a wiffle ball for this sport. How in the world did it penetrate his skin?

He’s got that eye closed and I finally break out of my trance to grab the bandana his mother used earlier, so I don’t think she’ll mind.

I brave the sight and join the small huddle. “Here,” I say, handing Tina the cloth.

She glances over and gives me a tight smile before taking the light pink bandana and pressing it up against the wound. When she pulls it back, there’s a cut at the end of his eyebrow. It fills quickly with blood, making my stomach twist at the sight.

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