Spring Perfection (2 page)

The rest of the inning is a blur. I throw six strikes so fast that
my arm gets a little sore. I know better than to rub my shoulder in public
though. Besides it being bad luck, my mother would be in the dugout before I
could say 'Bengay' making sure I was okay and demanding that the trainer give
me something so that my performance doesn't suffer.

Instead of massaging my shoulder I plopped down in my seat,
crossed my arms and closed my eyes. Then I thought about La Cienega's smile.

Weeks after that first encounter in English class. We sat together
on the Merry-Go-Round in the play ground.

"I dare you to kiss me?" Reyna said suddenly.

"What?" I said nearly choking on my Tofu turkey wrap. I
wasn't a vegetarian or anything, but Reyna was. And there was just something
about her that made me want to be wherever she was and do whatever she did.
That included eating this disgusting concoction.

 
"I said I dare you to
kiss me."

 
"I heard you, but …
but, why?" I really couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did she really
want to kiss me?

 
Reyna drew in a breath and
made her cheeks big like a blowfish. She always did that when she needed to
think. She held her breath for several seconds, then let it out as she said,
"According to my sources, we're the only two sixth graders who haven't had
a first kiss. Most everyone in our class has gone beyond kissing."

 
I stared at her completely
confused. I remember totally not understanding what she meant by 'beyond
kissing', but I knew I wanted to try it. And I wanted to try it with her.

 
"I mean, I know you
would rather kiss Amanda Stratfield, but I figure you can practice on me. That
way when you finally kiss Amanda, you'll be really good at it."

 
I didn't really want to
kiss Amanda Stratfield. She was actually kind of annoying the way she always
asked me stupid questions about baseball just so she could have an excuse to
talk to me. I mean, really, she doesn't know what a sacrifice fly is. Reyna
does. She would never ask me that.

 
"Um
... "
I managed to say. I couldn't think of anything
else. I didn't know what I was supposed to say in this situation.

 
"We can go behind the
slide if you want, so no one will see," Reyna said.

 
"Um ... okay."

 
Reyna grabbed my hand and
pulled me to a secluded spot behind the slide at the edge of the playground, a
spot hidden from the rest of the field. And then we did it. We kissed. We
kissed a lot. Reyna was a little bit of a perfectionist so I knew we would be
at it for a while until we got it just right.

 
"Did you feel
that?" Reyna asked me after our fifth attempt at a successful kiss without
teeth getting in the way.

 
"What?"

 
"A flutter
in the pit of your stomach.
I felt it in mine."

 
I closed my eyes and
thought about it. Yeah, I had felt the flutter. I had felt the flutter
everywhere.

 
"Yeah, I felt it,
too," I said.

 
"La Cienega just
smiled."

I just looked at her and I couldn't help smiling. I probably had
the biggest, stupidest grin on my face. But I couldn't help it. I was just that
happy.

"You always talk about this Cienega person. Are you finally
gonna tell me who she is?"

Reyna sat cross-legged on the ground and pulled me down next to
her. She closed her eyes and rested her head on my shoulder. She seemed as
though she was being transported to another time and place. I just sat there
quietly waiting for her to speak.
And secretly hoping that
soon the kissing would start again.

"In my village in Puerto Rico," she began finally.
"There was this old blind woman named Milagros. That means Miracle, you
know?"

I nodded as if I knew. I really didn't.

"It was an appropriate name. She was the miracle of the
village. If there was someone having a hard time paying their bills, they would
miraculously find a wad of cash under their door. If someone didn't have enough
to eat, they'd miraculously find a bag of rice and a chicken on their
doorstep."

"Wait.
A live chicken?"

"Yes, a live one. That's how we roll in Puerto Rico."
She laughed for a moment and then suddenly became serious. "Everyone knew
the gifts came from her. She was so giving and caring. She took care of
everyone. She even tried to take care of my mother when...when she got
sick." Reyna paused for a moment and tried to hold back the tears.
"After my mom died.
I thought my world had ended. I
thought I would never be happy again. It actually made me mad to pass her on
her porch every day and see her smiling at nothing. I honestly believed that no
one in the world should be happy because my mother was gone." She paused
again and took a deep calming breath. "Anyway, one day I got too angry to
hold it in. I marched up to her and asked her why in the world was she smiling?
Actually, I think what I said translates more accurately into 'Why the hell are
you smiling?' But, do you know what she said?"

I shook my head.

"She said that she smiles because she's blind."

I looked at Reyna oddly.

"Yeah, I was confused too. But then she said, 'It's not what
you see that makes you truly happy. What you see may not always be there. Oh,
but how you feel never has to go away. There's nothing better than that tingly
happiness that courses through your body and lands in your face causing your
cheeks to rise into a smile. Because I'm blind I don't get distracted by what's
really there and what's not. I get to have that feeling all the time.'"

I sat in silence for a while as I let those words sink in. I had
to admit, that was probably the most beautiful few sentences I had ever heard
in my life. No wonder those words had stuck with Reyna for so long. But I was
still confused about something.

"Rey, I thought you said her name was Milagros. Where does La
Cienega come in?"

"That was her nickname
, "
Reyna
said. "It's not actually even a real word, but it’s roughly translated to
something like 'the marsh.' I used to sit on her porch for hours and watch the
sun rise or set over the marsh. It was beautiful and peaceful and made me feel
like...like...home."

"Well, we have marshland here. This is Charleston after all.
Do you feel at home here?"

Reyna shook her head. "It's not the same. Yes, there is
marshland here, but this isn't an island. There is something different about
living on an island. There's something different about the feel of the wind,
the smell of air and the taste of the breeze. The sunset on an island surrounds
you and feels like warmth is hugging you."

For a moment I thought she was getting confused in the English
language. Her English was nearly perfect since her father was American, but
sometimes I noticed that she couldn't exactly translate things the way she
wanted. But after I thought about it for a moment more, I realized she had said
exactly what she meant. I also realized that one day I was going to help her
have the feeling again.

The sixth inning still brings no score. We are still ahead one to
zero.

I find myself hoping the other team will hit a homerun or
something and take the pressure off of me. Then I can fake some shoulder strain
and get out of the game. I will head out to the locker room and then sneak off
to the surprise I had for Reyna. Yeah, that can work. I just have to get out of
here.

I throw a fast ball straight down the middle. Just as I thought,
the batter hits a long one down the left field line. The ball is so out of
here. But then Derek suddenly turns into Spiderman and nearly scales the wall
to make an incredible catch.

The crowd explodes in applause. The batter is out.

This means I have to continue my perfect game. I catch a glimpse
of Sam in the bleachers. She is standing with her hands on her hips and glaring
at me as if I have just beat a baby seal with a bat. My behavior is
unacceptable to her. Somehow she knows what I am trying to do. She will kill me
if I ruin this chance at a perfect game. She already told me at the beginning
of the season that there is a brand new mustang convertible waiting for me if I
accomplish this. To be honest, this game means more to her than it does to me.

Returning to the dugout I try to block out Coach who is yammering
in my ear about being only nine outs away from making history. No high school
student has ever pitched a perfect game against a college team. Even though
this is just an exhibition game, I am sure it will be on the local news
tonight. It might even make the national news.

I am not so sure why I am so on today. Why can't any of the
College of Charleston players hit against me today? It's like I'm unstoppable
and I'm not even trying that hard. I don't even want to play this game. It was
a last minute addition to our schedule. I had my day with Reyna all planned
when Coach called me in his office yesterday afternoon and told me I would be
pitching.

At the beginning of the game, I just wanted it to be over as soon
as possible. That was why I kept throwing strike after strike. But by the
bottom of the fourth when no one had made it on base, I started hearing
whisperings of a perfect game. And now, I start to feel the pressure of the
possible perfect game.

I lean my head back and close my eyes trying to drown out all the
sounds of the cheering fans, the crack of the ball against the bat, even the
sound of cleats on grass. These are sounds that I usually love. But today, I
just want it to be over. I have to get to Reyna. I can't let her down again...I
shudder at the thought of the last time I had let her down.

I'm not in love with Reyna. At least that's what I've been telling
myself for the past five and a half years. Even though she was my first kiss
due to a little playground experiment in the sixth grade and even though she
was the only person that actually knew me...the real me. I loved her like a
friend and nothing more. Or so I thought.

I thought taking her to the seventh grade dance would be no big
deal. But if she was only a friend to me, why was it so hard for me to ask her
to go to the dance in the first place? Why did the palms of my hands get
sweatier than a pork chop wrapped in plastic on a porch every time I thought
about asking her? Why did it take me two days to get the courage to ask? And
why did my heart nearly stop when she did her cheek blowing out thing? And why
in the world was that simple habit of hers so adorable?

While I stared at her with her cheeks puffed out, I knew she was
searching for that tingle in her stomach. She always looked for some feeling or
sign from La Cienega in order to know whether to do something or not. I sure
hoped La Cienega wasn't taking a nap or something and would send her the sign
she needed.

Truth is
,
I wanted to feel that tingle
too. The last time I'd felt it was when we had kissed on the playground the
year before. We'd never tried anything else since. Reyna was so convinced I
liked Amanda and not her. I don't know why I never corrected her. Maybe this
would be my chance. Maybe I would get to kiss her again at the seventh grade
dance and if I felt that tingle again I would know. I would know for sure she
was the one.

Instead of responding with a simple yes or no, Reyna said,
"Are you sure, Scottie?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want to take you to the dance."

She sighed and said, "Does your mother know?"

My mother.
Samantha Kincaid. She was a like gale force wind of hate and irrationality. The
only time I ever spoke to her was about sports. Even in the seventh grade I
knew not to give Sam too many details about my personal life. She would just
find a way to criticize me.

"Yeah, sure, she knows," I lied. Of course my mother
didn't know. If she knew that I was contemplating going to a dance with a black
person, she'd probably pack me up and ship me off to some sort of ridiculous
and unnecessary sport camp until I changed my mind. She'd done it before. When
I told her I wanted to quit the track team for the baseball team, she sent me
to a sprinting camp in Oregon. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a
sprinting camp. Anyway, I didn't change my mind. And when she saw how fast I
could pitch, she's the one that cleared off a space in our trophy room for my
future baseball trophies.

Reyna smiled and said, "Okay, let's go." It was the
happiest I'd ever seen her. She almost skipped off to her next class.

But things didn't go as planned. The dance never happened.