Page 3 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
Austin - The Present
“Yo,Aus,youain’tseeming like yourself. What’s up, man?” Jacob waves a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. I don’t know why I agreed to hang out with him outside of practice and games. We weren’t that close back in high school, but somehow ended up being drafted at the same time to the same team.
Jacob’s initial suggestion had been to go to a bar that was known for overlooking the ID requirements. I turned that idea down. I have no interest in drinking, at least not right now. Not after what happened the time I accidentally had a drink. Not to mention the fact that I’m underage. So, here we are, at an arcade and event center. It’s mid-afternoon so the place isn’t too busy, and the bar we’re sitting at doesn’t have many patrons.
And now, my thoughts are back on that accidental drink and everything else that happened that night. The person. The passion. The pain. She was my girl. No, she wasmywoman.Was. And I screwed it up. I think we could’ve made long distance work, but she was angry at me for leaving. And next she was angry at me for, well…
But I had to. I had to go. This was my chance.
It’s not often that a guy gets drafted to the minor leagues right out of high school. Baseball has always been my plan. My dream. A dream that was almost squashed by moving to Clear Creek, but in the end I still ended up getting drafted. I had a signed contract, and even though I love Raegan more than anything, I had to go. I had to fulfill this dream.
I’m proving to Dad that even though he walked away I can still do this. I don’t need him to make me a good ball player. This is proof thatmyhard work paid off. He put this dream into my heart, pushed me to be the best… untilshecame along. Then he didn’t want us anymore, and now I don’t need him. I got here on my own. Without him.
I stare at the TVs behind the bar, the condensation on my Coke glass coating my hands.
Jacob pokes me. “Got a girl on your mind, or do you only think about baseball?” He groans and rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I just… I got a lot on my mind,” I finally mutter as I slide my fingers up and down, making trails in the condensation on my glass.
“Baseball stuff, or girl problems?” Jacob tips his chair back on two legs and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at me. “Give me something juicy.”
Ugh, I don’t want to really discuss it with him. “Yeah, just… Just thoughts.” I say, hoping that he’ll just drop it. But he’s never been one to let things go.
“Oh, come on, man. I was with a great girl the other night. I bet she’s got some friends that are available.” A smirk covers his face, his blue eyes turning icy as he nods his head. “This place is getting old, we could hit up a club. I know how to get intoone of thegoodones, wanna come? Maybe it’ll help you relax.” He squeezes my shoulder as if to show that I’m tense. Which, I am, but I’m not going to a place like that, not with him, not with anyone.
“No. Not going there man.” Not physically, not conversationally.
My chair nearly tips as I stand. I slap a twenty on the bar to cover my soda and fries. “I need some fresh air.” I don’t wait for his response. There’s just too much going on in my head, and I don’t need his drama to add to it. I push through the double front doors and take off to my right, even though my truck is parked over to my left.
Humidity still hangs in the warm Atlanta air, but the temperature has dropped enough that I feel comfortable out here. Or maybe outside is just my spot. I am a baseball player, after all. I fill my lungs with the fresh air. The thought of any enclosed space is too much for me. I don’t want to sit in my truck and I don’t want to head back inside. So I wander.
“Why Jacob? We couldn’t have just chatted about baseball, or the weather or something?” I grumble under my breath. Sure, old me would have discussed girls. I wouldn’t have entertained a trip to a club or anything like that, but there was plenty of girl talk in middle and early high school. And then baseball took over my life. Do I not want to talk about sex and girls because I feel convicted over what happened? I guess getting to know God changed me. I came to Christ because I watched what He did for others. It wasn’t just because of watchingFacing the Giants,but seeing everything in Carson’s life, Coach’s life, and listening to Coach’s lessons in youth group.
“But where do we stand now, God?” I look up toward heaven as I whisper the words. Where do Raegan and I stand? Because I didn’t stop things, she probably hates me. Is she mad becauseI didn’t feel as regretful after? She told me, “I’ll always have one more kiss for you.”
I didn’t chase after her. I should have. Because I enjoyed it, does that make me a bad Christian, or maybe not a Christian at all?
“Time heals wounds, right?” I say cynically. “So why don’t I feel any better?” I mean, yeah, it’s only been six weeks. I haven’t talked to Raegan, though she did call once. I’ve barely talked to my mom. Haven’t talked to Coach, other than to mention all of the baseballs I’d left all over the outfield. And even though I live near Dad now, that relationship is still on the rocks.
I inhale a deep lung full of air, gazing at the trees and plants along the side of the building. The heat of the cement penetrates the soles of my feet through my shoes. I need the dirt of a baseball diamond under my feet.
There should be two men in my life to go to for advice at a time like this. Coach and Dad. But Dad did away with that privilege when he walked out of my life. Or it might be more accurate to say that I was forced out of his life because he didn’t want me. Or Mom. Or Izzy.
Sure, he’d walked back in, but it wasn’t like that relationship had returned to what it had once been. And Coach Hernandez… I’m embarrassed to call him again. I never told him why I’d thrown the balls all over the outfield the night before I left.
I don’t know if Icantell him. Coach had been there for accountability. He’d discipled me. Showed me who a Christian was supposed to be through Bible study with the guys and in youth group. Because of Coach I have Bible verses memorized. Because of Coach I have a playlist that has helped calm my anxiety through worshipping God.
And now… Can I even consider myself a Christian? Can someone mess up like I did and still be a Christian?
“Austin? Is that really you?”
The voice halts my steps. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. No. No. Not Becca. I bet Jacob told her that I met up with him here. “Dang it.”
Her grating, sing-song voice echoes across the half empty parking lot. Becca dated one of the guys on the baseball team in my Atlanta high school. But just because she was dating him didn’t keep her from flirting with every player. She was obsessed with scoring a guy who made it to the majors. And now she’s single, and a ridiculous bat bunny for the Atlanta Bottle Caps.
Her heels tap the pavement, closer, closer, closer. Why did I decide to walk around the arcade a bit before getting back into my truck? Right, I needed the fresh air. She catches up to me, offering a smile that makes my stomach twist. I know who the real Becca is, and I don’t want anything to do with her. She isn’t my type. My type has golden-blonde hair, the sweetest smile, and a kiss sweeter than watermelon. Becca is manipulative, vicious, and a cheater.
“Hi, Becca.” I acknowledge her and keep walking, heading around toward my truck.
