Out of Left Field: Marlee's Story (7 page)

Once she had the house to herself, Marlee took the coveted piece of paper from her shirt pocket and lightly traced Susie’s name with her index finger. She could almost feel the burn of Susie’s thigh against her own. The sensations confused her, but she liked them nonetheless. She refolded the paper carefully, put it back in her pocket, and went upstairs to her room to start the cleaning process.

She looked at the recliner. Jeri had folded the blanket Marlee had placed over her. Marlee put it back in the hall closet. Marlee’s room was, thankfully, at the top of the stairs so she didn’t have to guide a drunken Jeri past her mother’s room. Marlee had to be extra quiet, though, when she got the blanket from the hall closet right outside her mother’s room. Luckily, she had thought to let Jeri use the bathroom downstairs before they started the trek upstairs. Marlee couldn’t believe her mother hadn’t heard them. And she had missed her curfew by fifteen minutes. Yes, they had gotten lucky this time.

The phone rang, startling Marlee.
Oh, my God,
she panicked.
It’s Susie. I’m not ready. What am I gonna say? Breathe. Breathe,
she told herself. Just as quickly, she realized that Susie didn’t have her phone number. It couldn’t be her. She picked up the cordless phone on her bedside stand.

“Hello?”

“Marlee? It’s Lisa.”

“Lisa Brown, world’s greatest catcher.” She sighed in relief. “What’s up?” Marlee picked up her Clarksonville sweatshirt that had somehow landed on the floor during the night. She hung it on the hook on the back of her closet door and started creating order out of the chaos that was her room.

“That’s what I was going to ask you. Some of us from the team are going to the Roxy tonight. They finally changed the movie,” Lisa said. “And, we’ll probably get some ice cream at Stewart’s after.”

“Sounds like fun. But Bobby’s coming over and we’re...well, actually, I don’t know what we’re doing, but he’s coming over and we’re doing something. Sorry.” A night out with Lisa and their teammates sounded like fun. A pang of loss squeezed her heart. She missed her friends like crazy. Since she’d been going out with Bobby, she had put all of her friends on hold.

“Okay. That’s cool.” Lisa’s disappointment was obvious. “Just figured I’d try. Maybe next time, eh?”

“Maybe we can play catch tomorrow,” Marlee suggested. “I gotta work on my stride for that stupid rise ball. I’ll call you, okay?”

“All right. Cool. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. See ya.” Lisa’s voice had perked up.

As she organized her room, Marlee attempted to organize her thoughts about her impending phone call to Susie.
Think, think. When should I call? And what should I say?
She hoped talking to her on the phone would be as easy as it had been in person.

She looked at the clock. 10:00. Too early. How about 2:00? That sounded reasonable. Not too early, not lunch time, not dinnertime. Just right. But maybe 4:00 would be better. That way it wouldn’t quite be dinnertime, and if Susie had something to do that day, maybe she’d be done and back home by then. But, no, no, 2:00 was better, because maybe Susie was sick with worry about whether they got home in one piece. She smiled thinking about Susie worrying about her.
No, no, 2:00. That’s my final offer. 2:00 it is.

Marlee groaned. What should have been a two-second decision took about fifteen minutes. But the four hours she had left should be plenty of time to think of something to say to Susie. She could think about it while she cleaned the garage, but she would definitely need to write the ideas down, just so she wouldn’t forget at a crucial moment.

Marlee made her bed and looked for her beat-up lawn-mowing turned garage-cleaning sneakers. She pulled on her Cougar sweatshirt and bounded down the stairs and out the kitchen door. The screen door slammed behind her. She got goose bumps from the chill in the air, but the sky made up for it with high puffy clouds lazily making their way across the brilliant blue. Marlee filled her lungs with the crisp air and then made her way to the garage. She flicked on the light switch and almost tripped over the old red push mower. She might as well get it ready for the next inevitable lawn-mowing season. How she wished she had a John Deere riding mower like Jeri’s family. Jeri’s dad let her ride it once, but after she had mowed the D’Amicos’ entire front lawn, she realized that Mr. D’Amico had tricked her into doing his chore. But she didn’t care. It had been fun.

Marlee didn’t know how Jeri was going to function at the restaurant. She looked terrible when she left. When Bobby called, maybe she’d suggest a trip to the restaurant to see Jeri. Oh, but maybe not. Jeri might slip that she had a hangover. You don’t usually get hangovers researching calculus. And Jeri would probably be grounded by her parents after her no-show the night before anyway. Trying to keep track of the lies made Marlee very uneasy.

Marlee herself had never had a hangover. She thought about her father every day, and the drunk driver who had killed him. No, drinking was of absolutely no interest to her since alcohol could kill and take dads away from their kids.

Marlee unscrewed the mower’s gas cap and saw that the tank was near full. She choked the engine and pulled the starter rope as hard as she could. The engine sputtered, but didn’t catch. She tried a few more times, but couldn’t get the mower to catch. This was, after all, the first time she had tried to start the thing since the fall, so naturally it didn’t work. What would her dad do? She decided that he would not put the mower away and try to start it another day. No, he would probably clean the spark plug or something. Marlee removed the spark plug and remembered what her dad had said to look for. He had taught her all about spark plugs and choking the engine and sharpening the blade, even though her mother hadn’t been too keen on the idea.

The spark plug looked oily. She cleaned it off with a rag she kept in the two-car garage and then checked the gap with the spacer her dad kept on his workbench. My workbench, she thought solemnly. The unattached two-car garage, situated at the end of the long driveway, had become mostly Marlee’s domain. Her mother apparently wanted nothing to do with it other than to park the minivan on the left side. The other side had become Marlee’s work area.

She was about to give up when the mower finally roared to life in a puff of blue smoke. When she started to cough she realized she should have started the mower outside the garage and quickly cut the engine. She wheeled the mower outside and pulled the starter rope under the ancient oak tree near the garage. Her yank on the rope caused her to set the tire swing in motion. Her father had hung the old tire swing for her when she turned eight. The swing constantly reminded her of the short time she’d had with him. Beyond the tree, she and her father used to play catch. Marlee treasured the worn out spot where her Dad would catch for her. In fact, Marlee even put in an old pitcher’s rubber and a home plate Coach Spears had given her. She and Lisa sometimes practiced pitching there and Marlee always felt a little sad seeing Lisa stand where her dad used to.

Marlee took a deep breath to clear her head of the memories and couldn’t help but notice the brilliant blue sky again. What a perfect day for softball. But Coach Spears never had practices on Saturday. She wanted to, but the school administration had halted all weekend activities at the school in an effort to save money. And that included softball. The only exception the school ever made was for make-up games due to rainouts or the occasional snow-out.

Marlee cut the mower’s engine again and wheeled it back into the garage. She looked at her workbench with a sigh. She pulled her dad’s stool up to the bench and hopped on. With her left arm she swept the tools and debris off to one side. She grabbed an old piece of cardboard on the workbench and found a dull pencil in a jar with some nails. She wrote on the top of the piece of cardboard, “Brilliant Things to Say to Susie Torres, #7.” She wrote the number one and put a circle around it. Marlee put the pencil to her mouth and stared into space. Nothing came to her. She thought some more. Still nothing. With a sigh, she put the cardboard and pencil in her pocket, the same pocket with the coveted phone number and went about the business of cleaning off her workbench.

For over two-and-a-half hours she organized and cleaned up her tools. She hung them on the pegboard system she and her dad had put up. She threw out useless spare parts and old rotten pieces of wood she had stored in the garage for some reason. Workbench and garage fairly organized, Marlee went back into the house and realized that she hadn’t thought of a single thing to say to Susie.

Cardboard and pencil back in hand, Marlee paced back and forth over the braided rug in her room trying to find something clever to say to Susie. She felt stupid making a list, but didn’t want to leave anything to chance because her nerves might get the better of her and she didn’t want to sound like an idiot.

“Hey, Susie, what’s up?” Marlee said to Patches who was sleeping on the recliner. Patches opened one weary eye but didn’t answer. “Right, too casual. How about this? Hey, Susie, we got home okay last night. Good plan you had.” Marlee laughed and rolled her eyes. “Bzzt. Wrong answer. Please try again.” She tapped the pencil against the cardboard. “Susie, how are you?” Patches looked up again from the recliner. “Yeah, you’re right kitty cat. Not bad, not bad.”
Keep going,
Marlee thought.
You’ve got more than that to say to her.

She decided to make a list of potential topics instead. She looked out her window. The grass, still brown from winter, did nothing to inspire her. She looked around her room. She noticed her Second-Team All-County batting trophy on the bookshelf above her desk. In her neatest handwriting she wrote the word softball on the cardboard and stopped.
Duh
, she thought,
isn’t there anything else I can come up with?
Was that all they had in common? Marlee furrowed her brow and felt her neck and shoulders tense up like when she didn’t pitch well.

“Wait, Patches, I know. We can talk about last night. Yeah, yeah. She can console me about having to deal with Jeri. Yeah, Jeri, the one who slept in your chair. Sorry, little one.” Marlee picked up the calico and fell back onto her recently made bed. “And I promise I’ll clean your litter box, but later after I talk to Susie. Okay?” Marlee closed her eyes and stroked Patches’ fur. Patches approved by purring.

Marlee woke with a start, launching Patches off the bed. The phone was ringing.

“Crap. Crap,” she panicked. “What time is it, Patches?” She looked at the clock radio on her bedside stand. 1:30. She breathed a sigh of relief. She still had time. It was just Bobby. It

had to be. She picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

“So, were you ever going to call me today?”

Marlee inhaled sharply when she heard Susie’s voice. “Susie?” She had to make sure.

“Yup, it’s me. I guess you got home okay. How’d it go?”

“Oh man. Yeah, we’re fine.” Marlee smiled. She was talking to Susie. “Jeri’s got a monster headache.”

“So does Christy.” Susie’s voice held a dash of disdain. “But what else is new?”

“Hey, thanks for helping me last night. I couldn’t think. How’d you know what to do?” Marlee, still lying on her bed, rolled over on her side and settled in.

“Humph,” Susie harrumphed. “Christy. Been there, done that. Wore that t-shirt out.”

“Really? She does this all the time?”

“Yeah, well, I think drinking just gives her something to do. Her parents are never home so she practically lives by herself. And when her parents are home, they pretty much ignore her. I mean, they’ve never been to a single one of her softball games. Can you believe that? That’s why I hang around, I guess. I kind of try to take care of her. I mean, we’ve been friends, like, forever. Since I was in second grade and she was in third. We played T-ball together.”

“Wow. Jeri and I met in middle school. Algebra.” Marlee traced the pattern on her bedspread with her finger. “I guess you’re lucky that Christy was already home last night.”

“Yup,” Susie said, “but even so she wasn’t easy to handle. She got mad at me because Jeri left. I guess they’d been having a swell time. She’s not fun when she’s mad. She wouldn’t let me go home.”

Marlee sat up in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, she gets a little rambunctious and, uh, clingy when she drinks. I had to stay with her until she fell asleep. Then Sam and I got rid of the beer cans and stuff. And then I went home.”

Marlee felt herself relax. Susie’s liquid voice soothed the tightness in her shoulders and neck.

“Hey, Marlee, hang on a minute.” Marlee could hear Susie’s muffled voice, “
Abuelita, estoy hablando por teléfono. Dame diez minutos, por favor
. I promise.”

“Sorry, that was my Grandmother,” Susie explained. “She doesn’t know much English. My parents brought her here from Puerto Rico just before I was born.” Susie laughed. “She’s been here for about seventeen years and still hasn’t picked up the language.”

“Really?” Marlee laughed in response. Marlee hadn’t known that Susie was Puerto Rican. Even in Spanish, no, especially in Spanish, Susie’s voice was refreshing like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

They talked about softball, school, Jeri, The D’Amicos’ Restaurant, what Marlee did that morning, what Susie did that morning, and the SAT’s in May. Marlee didn’t need her cardboard list of topics after all. Oddly, they didn’t talk about Christy anymore, but Marlee was more than okay with that because Christy wasn’t her favorite topic and Susie didn’t seem to want to talk about her anyway. Marlee didn’t mention Bobby much, either. She and Bobby didn’t have any definite plans so why bring him up? She glanced at the clock on her bedside stand and noticed that it was 2:35. They had talked for over an hour.

“
Aay, Dios mio!
” Susie exclaimed as if she had just looked at a clock, too. “I have to get going. I promised Grandma I’d drive her to her friend’s house. They play cards all afternoon. Sometimes I stay and play with them.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. These old ladies are pretty ruthless sometimes. But it’s fun spending time with my Grandma and I get to practice my Spanish. Shoot, I gotta go. But listen, have fun with Bobby.”