Page 65 of This Time Around

“The only day I won’t be able to commit to practice or games is Wednesday,” I told Elijah. I was in a really great place in my life, and I hoped to be a beacon of hope to those who needed it. I couldn’t help but think of the progress Keeton had made in a short time. While he wasn’t laughing and joking it up, he had joined us for burgers on a few occasions, and I felt like he was on the cusp of sharing his story with us. Sadly, Rebecca was back in rehab after a relapse, but she was due for release soon. I wanted to be there to show my support when the time came.

“Games are on Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Sunday afternoons,” Elijah said. “I think we’re going to practice a few times a week up until games start then practice will depend on the number of games we have each week.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“This has been a fun time, but we need to go home. Alli Cat has probably shredded Andy’s new work boots in a fit of rage.” Milo stood up from my lap and stretched. “Oh my God! I hurt in places I never knew I had.” He bent over to stretch the muscles in his back, and I suddenly had something I was looking forward to a lot more than my first softball practice with the guys.

One week later, I pulled around the back of the high school and drove to the furthest corner of the parking lot near the ball diamonds. The school had agreed to let us use their field for practice and home games if we maintained the diamond and grass. Tucker, who was our team captain, put together a practice, game, and field maintenance schedule for us all to follow.

I was the first to arrive for practice, but I went ahead and grabbed my gear and headed onto the field. That diamond wasn’t just a place of memories; it was ingrained in me. I’d spent countless hours working to improve my skills, earn that scholarship, and help my team win a state championship. I glanced over at the dugout where Milo had kissed me the first time during a football game. Neither of us had cared about the outcome of the game and only wanted to be together, so we snuck off and hid in the dugout. That kiss changed everything for me.

“Hey there, Andy,” a voice said from behind me. “Reliving fond memories?”

I turned and faced my high school coach. I wanted to believe that Red Baker was a good man, and that he hadn’t set out to make me feel ashamed of myself all those years ago. The thing was, I had never planned to tell him the negative ways he impacted my life, but I realized that I owed it to the young, naïve Andy I used to be.

“You could say that again, Coach.”

“What’s your favorite memory? That grand slam to clinch a playoff berth that eventually led to a state championship run?”

Now was my chance. I pointed to the dugout where the home team sat for every game and said, “I learned exactly who I was right there.” Coach stood straighter like he was bracing himself to receive accolades. “It was the first time I kissed Milo and realized there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. What I felt for him was true and real and as much a part of me as my blue eyes. I was never ashamed of my feelings for him, and I didn’t think you were either.” Coach broke eye contact and looked down at his feet where one of them was leaving a line in the dirt as he moved it from side to side. “You were wrong to tell me to hide who I was, Coach.”

Coach looked up and met my gaze after releasing a deep breath. “I thought I was looking out for your best interest. I truly believed that those colleges would take a pass on you if they knew you were gay.”

“We’ll never know, now will we?” I asked. “That wasn’t a call you should’ve made.”

“I’ve regretted it,” Red Baker said slowly. “I’m truly sorry, Andy. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

I wanted to tell him it was all water under the bridge, but I wasn’t there yet. I hoped to arrive at that place eventually because holding a grudge and clinging to negative memories wasn’t a conduit to sober living. It was better to acknowledge the pain, come to terms with it the best I could, and move on.

Not sure what else to say, Coach patted me on the shoulder and said he would see me around. The rest of the team showed up shortly after he left, and we got to work. I made sure to put any worries to rest that I was a dried-up has-been, or that I thought I was too good to play with the rest of the guys. By the time practice was over, we were all sweaty and filthy. As I made my way off the field, I noticed a certain handsome brunette sitting in the bleachers. The smile Milo sent my way made me feel a lot less tired and sore.

“I guess you showed them you still have it, Slugger,” he said when I approached the bleachers. Milo climbed down and handed me a bottle of Gatorade. “Oh, look,” Milo said, smiling wistfully. “It’s our special spot.”

I grabbed his hand and led him over to the dugout to show him that I indeed still had it.

Watching Andy have so much fun doing something he used to love made me realize how much I missed performing on stage. Some might say that I hid my sorrows when I put on those gowns and became Peach. I didn’t see it that way. Sure, I was able to forget the things that bothered me while I performed, but Peach also taught me how to be more confident and graceful. A person could question just how those two traits helped me start successful businesses with my sister.

Well, I sat straight and proud to disguise the inner quaking when Maegan and I took that leap and applied for startup funds at our local bank. I called upon Peach’s elegance when I had to go back and forth between coffee machines and pastry display cases to feed our ravenous customers. I used the confidence to settle disputes between employees and my flexibility to rock Andy’s world. Peach wasn’t my alter ego, she was well and truly part of me.

So, on Wednesdays while Andy was meeting with his NA chapter, Peach returned to the stage. For my first performance, I put on a big blonde wig to make any fan of the eighties proud and sang Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” with so much heart and feeling that the crowd gaped at me for several seconds before they cheered and whistled. The following week I performed “Shadows of the Night” by Pat Benatar, which had them on their feet throughout the entire performance. If I had a penny every time my mom blared that song in the car, I could’ve retired. I made sure it was recorded so I could show it to her and earn some brownie points.

I stayed for a few performances after mine then left so I could meet Andy and the gang for burgers, fries, and shakes. I didn’t go the previous week because I worried that my presence would throw off the chemistry in the group. The other reason was Ollie. He’d apologized to me for what he said, and I accepted. I was still nervous that things would be awkward. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, so I agreed to meet them after my Pat performance. I was still pretty high—for lack of a better word—from the crowd’s reactions, so I was all smiles when I walked confident and proud to the table at the back of the restaurant.Thank you, Peach.

There was an extra guy, who I presumed was Keeton, sitting across from Andy. His eyes widened as I approached the table, alerting the rest of the gabbing guys of my arrival. As I got closer, I heard music and singing coming from one of their devices and recognized my own voice. Apparently, Andy decided to play the link I sent him for everyone to see. He quickly shut it off when he looked up and saw me coming. I could tell by the grin on his face that he really liked my performance.

“Hello, boys,” I said dramatically.

“Wow, Peach,” Andy said, sounding breathless. “Where the hell have you been hiding those leather pants?”

“You like?”

“I bet you’d know the answer to that if he stood up,” the new guy said.

“Keeton, don’t be crude,” Ollie admonished. He offered an easy smile, but his cheeks were flushed from embarrassment.

“I heard all about how youenjoyedthe private performance you got for your birthday that one time, Reverend.”

“Keeton.” Andy’s tone held a stern warning that the younger guy was about to cross a line.