Here's the next chapter. This story is starting to wrap up. Maybe ten or less chapter left. Depends on my mind and if I come up with new ideas.
Hope you like this!
Also, updates will not be as often as they were during the summer. i have school now and that means reading tons of books and doing papers--cheers to english majors! So yeah, that's why i haven't updated as much.
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-DANA
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NOT EDITED
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Alison has asked me today if I’m coming to see her, so I responded with a no. I can’t possibly see her now. She doesn’t want to even be friends and yet she asks if I’ll see her today? I took a shower and got my baseball equipment before coming downstairs. I guess my mom must have a sensor for when I’m in a bad mood because once I reach the bottom step she asks if I’m alright.
“Fine,” I respond coolly, grabbing my car keys from the side table. “I’ll be back later.”
I don’t wait for her response. I get into my car and drive to the batting cages. I needed to let my anger out on something. If I focus on the anger and not the hurt, I’ll be okay.
The guy at the front greets me and assigns me a lane. I get into the cage; put the helmet on my head, before setting the ball speed on the machine. I get into my stance and wait for the ball to shoot out. As the ball comes flying at me, I time it perfectly so I can hit the ball. It feels nice batting again. It’s been over a month since baseball season ended and I miss this.
I keep batting until the machine runs out of balls. My breathing is ragged as I collect them one by one. Once I have the machine refilled I turn it back on. I keep hitting them, getting all of my anger out or as much as I can.
“Nice hitting,” I hear my dad behind me.
I turn my head and see him leaning against the outside of the cage. I walk over to the machine and turn it off before going to greet my dad. He opens the door and walks in once he realizes it’s safe.
“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, starting to collect the baseballs.
“Nothing,” I say, brushing it off. I take a seat on the bench and take out my water bottle. Taking a couple gulps, I see my dad giving me a stern look—he’s not buying what I’m selling. I sigh and wipe away the water that dribbled down my chin. “Seriously Dad, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to hit today.”
He puts the baseballs in the machine before walking over to me. “Then how come my bullshit monitor is going off?”
“Stop,” I warn, not in the mood for this.
“Nate, what happened? Your Mom is worried sick about you.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Please just drop it for now. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dad nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Will you be eating dinner with us tonight or are you visiting Alison?”
Hearing her name makes me want to scream in frustration. “No, I’, not visiting her tonight,” I say coolly, getting up from the bench. I grab my bat before starting the machine again. I want this hurt to just go away.
“Did something happen with Alison?” I hear my dad ask behind me.
I hit the ball, not answering.
“Nate,” he says softly.
I close my eyes, not wanting to say something in anger I don’t mean. I swig and hit another ball.
“If something happened, I want to know. I want to be here for you.”
I scoff. “Like how you were there for me the past few years?” I ask with scorn as I turn around.
Dad looks down to the ground. “I know I haven’t been around, but I am now. I’m here to stay. I’m not going back.”
I shake my head. “You’ve said that before.” I turn around and hit the next ball.
“Enough with this damn attitude,” Dad snaps. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here and I’m not going to go back. Now tell me what has crawled up your butt.”
I roll my eyes and keep hitting. Dad huffs before walking over to the machine and turning it off. “Why did you do that?” I ask angrily.
“What happened with Alison?”
Again with saying her name. My hands grip the baseball bat.
“Nate.” When I don’t answer right away he repeats saying my name.
“She doesn’t want me to see her anymore!” I yell, throwing the bat to the side. My hands form fists. “She doesn’t want to be in a relationship. She doesn’t even want to be friends.”
“Why?” Dad asks, coming closer.
I bite my lip hard, willing the tears to go away. The taste of iron trickles onto my tongue. “She’s scared that I’ll forget about her when we get to college and she doesn’t want to deal with getting hurt. Even though I told her that wouldn’t happen—she doesn’t trust me.” My voice softens at the end, my body sluggish. I walk over to the bench and sit down, burying my head in my hands.
My dad sits down next to me and starts rubbing my back. “I’m sorry Nate, I know how much you care for her, but everything will get better and work itself out. Time heals all wounds.”
I chuckle. “A little cheesy coming for you.”
Dad smiles and says, “Funny.”
My smile disappears. “I just want this pain to go away.”
He continues to rub my back. “It will. In time.”
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Later that night I’m sitting on my bed watching television when someone knocks on my door. “Come in,” I say.
The doorknob turns and my mom’s head pops inside. “Is this a good time?” I nod and Mom walks in, shutting the door behind her. She has two tubs of ice cream in her hands. “I got your favorite ice cream,” she says as she sits on my bed, handing me the chocolate tub.
“This seems like something girls do,” I bring up.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Eating ice cream?”
“While talking about their problems,” I add.
Mom doesn’t respond to my point. “Anyway, tell me what happened with Alison.”
“Didn’t Dad tell you?”
“No. He just told me it has something to do with Alison and that if I wanted to know what went down to come ask you.”
So I told her everything. She is my mom and she can give me some advice about what Alison is going through so I can understand better.
“Alison just needs to be comfortable with herself before anything can happen between you two,” Mom informs me. “Just give her time to finish her summer school work and physical therapy. She’s under a lot of stress also.”
I shake my head. “I’m done chasing her. I’ve done that enough the past few months. If she wants me in her life again than she’ll have to be the one to come to me.”
“You seem to have your mind set.”
“She hurt me Mom,” I point out. “I told her how I felt and she turned me down, but I was okay with that as long as we were friends and now she doesn’t want that.”
“She’ll come around Nate.”
“How do you know for sure?” I question.
Mom smiles. “Have you meant you?”