We meet at the front of my truck and walk into the park together. Every field is bustling with activity and the first thing I notice is that it’s all boys, no girls. The second thing I notice is the group of boys standing off to the side, watching but not participating.
“Do you know those boys?” I ask Nolan.
He nods and points, even though it’s not polite to do so. “That’s Nick, Blake, Gavin, Chase, and Ben. The boy on the very end is Sebastian but we call him Bash because he likes to hit things.”
“Does he hit you?”
Nolan looks up. “No, just the walls and stuff. He’s really nice but doesn’t have any friends.”
“Are you nice to him?”
My nephew shrugs. “Sometimes, but kids like Brady, Ryker and Tate tell us who we can and can’t like.”
“That’s not cool.”
“Nope,” he says, shrugging again and sighing. “That’s school for you, though.” I don’t remember school being like that, at least not until I had college offers coming in and the guy I thought was my best friend started acting like a jerk.
Nolan and I make our way deeper into the park. There are fields on both sides, filled with kids batting, pitching, tossing the ball back and forth, and running the bases. It feels like I’m back in spring training with all the activity.
Walking toward us is the former best friend. I’d know his ugly mug anywhere. He smiles and I know it’s that fake as fuck shit he used to do when we were younger.
“I heard you were back in town but couldn’t believe it until I saw you with my own two eyes. How the hell are you, Hawk?”
If my arm wasn’t in a sling, I’d probably hug him. Actually, I’d probably punch him in the face just for being a douche all those years ago. Instead we shake hands, and he clasps my one good one with both of his, as tightly as he can. I hold back the laughter bubbling deep down because he’s trying to hurt me and he’s not even fazing me.
“Yep, came home to recuperate and see how things are going here.”
Brett turns left and then right. “As you can see, things are good. Very active. The community really uses the Sinclair Fields.”
The way he says it leaves me feeling sour, almost as if he’s bitter. He spent years playing in my parent’s makeshift baseball field. You would think he’d be happy with a state-of-the-art facility to coach in. It seems that the name on the front is what bothers him the most.
“How are things? You and Annie good?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Annie’s great. Business is booming. What about you, married?”
Shaking my head slowly. “Nah, no time for that right now. What is it that you do?”
“Invested in corporate capital. I own the construction store at the end of Main Street.”
“You own that monstrosity?” Somehow that doesn’t surprise me, and he’s taken great offense for me saying as such by the look he’s given me. He opens his mouth to retort, likely with something crass, but closes it rather quickly when someone calls out, “Dad”. Brett turns around and his shoulders stiffen. Coming toward us is one of the players, dressed in full uniform.
“Little early for uniforms, isn’t it?”
Brett glares.
“Hi, I’m Matty.” To my complete shock the young woman sticks her hand out to shake mine. I would’ve never guessed Brett Larsen would let a girl on his baseball team, but apparently, I was wrong.
“Hey, Matty. Nice to meet ya, I’m Hawk Sinclair.”
“I know. I watch you all the time. Sorry about your shoulder.”
“Me too.”
“Hey, Nolan.”
He waves. “Hi, Matty.”
While she and Nolan make small talk about some class project, I’m ignoring Brett and everything around me to focus on Matty. She looks familiar, but more so seems familiar. It’s like I’ve met her before or know her from somewhere.