Page 1 of So Long, Honey

CODY

1996

“Ryan,” Coach barked from the dugout. Veins burst from his neck as he screamed at me, and the reddish hue of his eyes deepened. “Swing hard, don’t hesitate.”

I shifted on my feet to quell the itch of adrenaline that rushed through my veins. There was quite literally nothing better than baseball. Sun poured from between the clouds into my eyes as the nervous pitcher relayed secrets to the catcher behind me. It didn’t matter; it was mine once the ball left his mitt.

The crowd was buzzing like the thrum of an engine, louder than it had ever been. Loudest of all, my dad was above the noise, hollering instructions like I was playing T-Ball for the first time. It was frustrating how much he overstepped. I knew what I was doing; my skills weren’t in question; it was my ability to focus.

A breeze tickled at my neck, causing strands of dirty blonde hair to brush my skin beneath my hat. Every tiny touch reminded me to draw attention to the ball, pitch, grass, anddirt. I needed to center myself in the moment. Inhaling slowly, I smelled the diamond and became a part of the atmosphere as the ball left his fingers and hurled toward me.

I stepped into the swing, my thigh flexing as my toes sunk into the sand and my biceps tightened. The crowd’s applause grew tenfold as the ball connected with my bat and soared above the heads of the rival team. Gone far past the tiny fence of the high school field and smashed into the side of the bus, paintedLonghorns.

The umpire called the home run, and lightning-like excitement exploded across my chest. I surged forward like a man possessed, hollering and cheering along with the crowd as I came across home plate completely uncontested. I turned, a smile flashing across my sweaty face, and winked at a screaming crowd of girls that huddled behind the backstop.

“You’re a star, Ryan Cody.”

One of them cooed at me, her pretty pink lips curled into a flirty smile and her big brown eyes drifting over me. She crossed her arm over her tiny waist and cradled her jaw in her long fingers as she leaned forward.

Her eyebrow arched, and she realized she had my attention. Curling her finger toward herself, she said, “Come here.” She mouthed and nodded in encouragement.

I swerved toward them. I had no plan, but did I need one?I was a star, after all. My tongue flicked out over my lip, and I opened my mouth to say something stupid, no doubt when the collar of my jersey was tugged on so hard my feet kicked out from beneath me in the dirt.

“No.” Coach’s grip was so tight on the fabric that I could barely find my footing as he spun me around and pushed me over the catcher's box toward our dugout. “Game’s not over, Cody. Celebrate later.”

“Landry can hit without me watching,” I whined. I attempted a sneaky escape as he released me, but the bat came up across the dugout exit, stopping me. “Oh, come on.”

“Watch your teammate secure the win,” he warned.

“I did that.” My temper flared, and all the flirtatious feelings rushed from me as I squared my shoulders. “You and I both know it.” The muscles in my jaw tightened as I stared him down.

Coach was exhausted. I could see it all over his old face. His once bright eyes were gray and void of any light. He was taking out his frustrations of being washed out on me. The long, harsh talks about making something for themselves scared the other guys. Preaching good grades and scholarships, but both of us knew I could make the Majors without school, without college.

“It pisses you off how good I am,” I growled, knowing he wouldn’t do anything in front of the entire school. “You’re welcome for making this team great.”

“Your ego will be the death of you, Cody.”

Sure, maybe. I thought.Probably.

“At least I’ll be happy when it happens. That’s more than I can say for you.”

He was dying a slow death coaching a bunch of spoiled kids who treated baseball like a hobby. The love of the game turned to dust before his eyes, coating his palms, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t scrub that feeling from his skin.

Coach opened his mouth to argue, but the umpire called Landry out as he rounded second base. Despite the lack of a run, we won the game by two.

Wrapping my fingers around the bat that prevented me from leaving the dugout, I pushed it away from me slowly, eyes never leaving Coach’s.

“I’m a star, Coach.” I smiled wide and threw my arms up.

Defeat flickered across his tired features, and confidence flushed mine, that cocky smile forming back on my face as Ijoined my teammates at the center for celebration. I could feel his eyes on my back, but it didn’t matter. Ignorance was bliss. I needed a pretty girl to hold and a party to be thrown in my honor.

“Cody!” Landry screamed as his hat flew off his nasty red mullet and his hands thrust into the air. “Party at my house!” He declared, and the team went nuts. It wasn’t unusual that the curly-haired, 200lb outfielder offered up his parent's massive house for a party. They weren’t ever home, and Landry thrived on the sound of thumping bass through speakers that cost more than my house, as well as keg stands that would put the average man in the hospital for kidney failure.

The party continued through the evening, and the locker rooms were utterly trashed as we ran through them before taking the party back to Landry’s mansion on the other end of town. Most of the guys on the team lived in the same gated community, big empty houses that rich people filled with kids they didn’t want and never took care of.

I slipped from school to avoid my less-than-average farm-owning parents. There was always one sharp and stinging moment of guilt for disregarding their support for me, but it was easily passed with a kiss and pat on the back. Mom and Dad worked hard to put Riona and me where we were. Riona was on track to be the valedictorian and had barely escaped her freshman year in high school. She was going to make a difference in the world. One day, Robert Jr. would take over the farm; he and his wife Joanie lived in our attic. They had gotten married by the creek last summer, both barely twenty-one. But they were happy to be my parents' replacements. I could never understand why. To be stuck like that? It sounded like torture.

Baseball was it for me. I played better than any kid in the surrounding districts, and scouts were breathing down my neck six months after graduation. The more the pressure mountedon my shoulders, the more determined I became to be the best. I craved it and thrived off it. Unstoppable with the negative comments nipping at my heels and the sounds of cheering crowds roaring in my ears.