Alive on Opening Day Page 2

  Jackson set, lifted his hands over his head before kicking back into a full windup, and uncorked his pitch. The spin looked strange to Dan, and he couldn’t quite identify what type of pitch it was. It was still moving with plenty of steam, though, so, in that split second between Jackson’s release and the moment when Dan had to begin his swing, he decided it was a fastball.

  Dan cocked his wrists backwards, picked up his front foot and strode into the oncoming freight train before he realized the pitch was breaking inside. It was a curveball!

  He was already halfway into his swing and couldn’t stop his momentum, but he watched the ball sail across the midline between the mound and the plate, then veer up and in, directly into his twisting field of vision. The head of his bat whipped around behind his left shoulder and spun him toward the third base line, and he caught a glimpse of Gabbie in the stands, bringing her hands to her face to complete her growing expression of horror.

  Her compact flashed in the low sun, and there was a loud crack. Had he hit the ball?

  Then everything went black.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Awake

  Dan woke to a ray of sunlight that found its way through a pinhole in his bedroom blind, and he rolled onto his side to face into the still-dark part of the room. As his eyes adjusted to the morning shadows, he thought of the dream he had been having and tried to grasp its details like a drowning man reaching for a wispy, rope-shaped cloud.

  He had been at a baseball game, he was pretty sure, and Gabbie was there, but beyond that, he couldn’t piece together the patchy memories. Funny how dreams are like that, Dan thought. One minute, they’re everything you have in the whole world and the next minute, you’re awake and your dreams are completely gone, never to be heard from again. That thought made him sad, but he wasn’t sure why. More than sadness, though, something about those glimpses of his dream bothered him, and it made him think harder, clearing away the cobwebs of sleep.

  Before he even realized it, he was sitting up in the bed and then standing on the shaggy green carpet in his room. He could see much better having had a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, and he was surprised at how clean his room looked. All his books were on their shelves, his baseball cards were all in the two shoe boxes he kept on top of his desk, and his floor was completely devoid of dirty clothes. In fact, except for the bed he had just been sleeping in, nothing at all was out of place.

  And that made Dan even more uneasy. He didn’t think his mom would have cleaned his room — she hadn’t done that since he was in sixth grade — and he certainly hadn’t cleaned it. Who else could it have been, then? Gabbie?

  After pondering the unknowable mystery of his tidy room for about a minute, Dan shrugged and walked toward the hallway. Maybe a shower would clear his head.

  While he showered, Dan thought about the day before, which had been the last Monday of his high school career and the first day of the baseball sectional. He had eaten lunch with his underclassman buddies, probably for the last time, and then he met Gabbie after school for a quick snack before heading into the locker room to get ready for the game. The old-timers like his parents always told him to enjoy these moments, because they were some of the best of his life, but Dan never had time for that kind of mushy sentiment. Now, though, with the real world staring him in the face, Dan started to think maybe they were right after all.

  He finished his shower and toweled off, then walked back to his room to get dressed for …

  And it wasn’t until that moment, when he had to decide which clothes to wear, that Dan realized he must be late for school. He tore down the hallway and grabbed the windup clock from his nightstand, throwing open the blind to read the time: 10:15.

  Oh, man … he was late!

  Sure, it was senior week and most of Dan’s friends were bagging completely, but he still had buddies to see and, more importantly, Gabbie. She was just a junior, so she had to be in school all week, and she had finals. She wouldn’t have much time for him, but at the very least, they could walk to class together a few more times.

  Besides — and he would never admit this to anyone but himself — Dan kind of liked being in school. It was one of the reasons he wanted to go to college, along with playing baseball and studying baseball.

  College!

  Up until that moment, he had forgotten all about the game the night before and what it meant for his college career, or lack of the same. He was dressed by this point and standing in front of his mirror combing his hair, which seemed shorter than he remembered. His face was clean-shaven, too, despite his being well known for being a “blue beard” — even early in the day, his stubble was usually thick enough to discolor his cheeks.

  Oh well, maybe it was the dim bedroom light, Dan thought.

  He put the comb down on the dresser in front of him and stared off into space, trying to remember what had happened in the sectional game against Melville. He knew the two teams were evenly matched coming into the contest, and he had a vague notion they had played a tight game, but he couldn’t put together any specifics.

  Had they won? Had Dan collected any big hits or made any memorable plays to tilt the scales in his favor? And what about coach Harris from IWU — had he even been at the game like he had promised?

  Dan had a thought and stepped back to his nightstand, but the only items there were the alarm clock and his small lamp. He turned on the light and moved the clock, then looked behind the nightstand and under the bed. Next, he rifled through the two drawers in the stand and the three drawers of his dresser. He searched along every shelf in his bookcase and looked through all the nooks and crannies of his desk, but it wasn’t there.

  The card coach Harris had given him freshman year, and which Dan had kept by his bedside all through high school, was nowhere to be found. Did that mean Harris had picked Elmer Deskins over Dan for the last scholarship slot at IWU? Maybe that’s why Dan couldn’t remember anything from the previous evening. It would at least make some sense — he had been so distraught that he tore up the business card and then lost the ugly memories in his swirl of trauma.

  Wow, Dan thought to himself. That’s some pretty heavy drama for a guy. He laughed at himself and decided it was much better to try and find the real answers than to sit around speculating on his own. Gabbie would know the truth about what had happened, but she was already in school. No, Dan needed to see Dave Gentry or Chris Bisler, his fellow seniors on the baseball team.

  Dan’s mom kept the team phone list taped to the refrigerator, right next to the wall calendar so it would be easy to plan their days around practices and games, and to place any baseball-related call they needed to make. Eager to find out what had happened on Monday and at least slightly concerned he couldn’t remember for himself, Dan padded back down the hallway in his bare feet toward the kitchen.

  The call list was right where he thought it should be, next the refrigerator . It did seem a bit dingier than he had expected, but he supposed the paper didn’t need to be crisp to serve his purposes. The wall phone hung beside the calendar, where Dan lifted the cradle and dialed Bis’ number, since it was first alphabetically. As the phone rang, Dan shifted his focus to the calendar and noticed his mom had flipped it back from May to March.

  Strange, he thought.

  It was stranger still that none of his baseball practices or games were on the day grid that hung below a grainy picture of a hummingbird buzzing around a fir bush. He looked at the blocks his mother had circled and read the entries she made, and they all focused on her volunteer activities: Saturday mornings at the library, Thursday afternoons at the animal shelter, Monday mornings at the nursing home.

  The phone rang a second time, and Dan could hear the line pop to life on the other end. “Good morning, Bisler residence,” a pleasant female voice greeted him.

  “Um, Mrs. Bisler?” Dan said, pulling himself out of the calendar for a moment. “Is Chris there?”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Bisler said, sounding surprised.
“Why, no, no he’s not.”

  “Oh,” Dan replied, disappointed. “Well, do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Chris is still in Lafayette,” Mrs. Bisler said, her voice tinging with suspicion. “He won’t be home again until summer.”

  Now it was Dan’s turn to be confused. “What’s he doing in Lafayette?” Then a thought hit him. “What about baseball?”

  “Say, who is this?” Mrs. Bisler had finally recovered from Dan’s initial greeting.

  “Oh, oh!” Dan realized he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even identified himself. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bisler. Can’t believe I was so rude. This is Dan, Dan Hodges.”

  There was a pause, and then Mrs. Bisler sounded angry.

  “Young man, you may think that you’re clever, but you’re not,” she scolded. “This is not in the least bit funny.”

  Dan agreed: there was nothing funny about this conversation, but he wasn’t trying to be humorous, either.

  He considered for a moment that maybe Mrs. Bisler was teasing him, but that didn’t make any sense. He had known her for five years, and she had never joked with him, not even once. She was nice and sweet, but humor was not part of her repertoire. So Dan decided to go with the story.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m really not trying to be funny. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I really would like to talk to Chris. Do you have his number in, um, Lafayette?”

  The line was silent for several seconds, and Dan thought maybe Mrs. Bisler had hung up on him. “Um, Mrs. Bisler?” he prodded. “Are you still there?”

  When she spoke again, Mrs. Bisler’s voice was quiet. “Yes, yes, I’m here,” she said. “Dan, is that really you?”

  Dan was relieved to hear her call him by name but confused by her hesitation. “Yes, it’s me, Mrs. Bisler. Do you think Chris would want to talk to me?”

  Mrs. Bisler ignored the question. “Where are you, Dan?” she asked instead.

  “Well, I’m at home, Mrs. Bisler. Why?” He had no idea why that mattered to her, unless she was going to bust him for skipping school.

  From the other end of the phone line, Dan heard Mrs. Bisler let out a huge sigh, and then she said, “You stay right there young man. I’ll be over in just a few minutes.”

  That really baffled Dan and he started to protest. “No, it’s OK, Mrs. Bisler. I don’t need you to come over or anything. I can talk to Chris later.” After a hesitation, he finished: “I … I mean when he comes home for the summer.” It sounded absurd coming from his lips, but he thought it best to maintain Mrs. Bisler’s storyline.

  “Stay put!” she commanded. “I’m on my way.”

  The line went dead.

  Dan was stupefied by his odd conversation with Chris’ mom, and he stood with the phone to his ear for several seconds after she had hung up. Finally, he replaced the receiver in its cradle on the wall and turned toward the kitchen table, intending to sit down. Before he could take a step, though, something caught in his mind and he wheeled back around to peer at the calendar next to the phone.

  He hadn’t noticed it before, but the month he had been looking at was not March of 1973.

  It was March of 1974.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Reunion

  Fifteen minutes later, Dan still sat at the table, flipping through the 1974 calendar trying to make sense of what he was seeing when the doorbell rang. He looked toward the front hall but then turned his attention back to June, where the 15th day was circled in fat red marker: “Dan’s 20th birthday!” the writing inside proclaimed.

  The doorbell rang again, followed immediately by a loud banging, and Dan could hear a muffled voice through the front glass.

  “Dan! Dan! Are you in there?” It was Mrs. Bisler. “Let me in, Dan. I’ve called your mother, and she will be here any minute.” A pause, followed by, “Da-an!”

  Dan stumbled to his feet and dropped the calendar on the table. “I’m coming,” he called out, but it came out as a dry, cracked whisper. He cleared his throat and walked toward the door, yelling again: “Coming!”

  The knocking and shouting stopped, and Dan peeked out the long window beside the front door. He could see Mrs. Bisler standing on the stoop in her full-length June Cleaver dress, wrapped in a light woolen shawl. He unlocked the door and pulled it open and, as he did, Mrs. Bisler bounded over the threshold and clamped him in a bear hug.

  The force nearly knocked Dan over backwards but he managed to catch himself and found his arms wrapped around Mrs. Bisler’s neck, his face buried in her shawl. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you, Dan!”

  Dan thought it was an ironic thing for her to say considering there was no way she had actually seen him in her bull rush. After several seconds of bone-crushing embrace, Dan managed to push away from Mrs. Bisler, and he held her at arms’ length.

  “Whoa, Mrs. Bisler!” he said, and instantly felt guilty for his exclamation. He pulled his tone down a notch and continued with, “Well, I’m happy to see you, too, Mrs. Bisler, but we just saw each other …” Dan stopped to think of when the last time was he HAD seen Chris’ mom. It should have been the day before at the sectional game, but that was still a black hole in Dan’s memory. “… um, at our last baseball game.”

  There, that was safe, he thought.

  “Oh, Dan, you really don’t remember, do you?” Mrs. Bisler asked, and Dan felt uneasy because it was as if she had read his thoughts.

  Dan wanted to be respectful, but he’d had about enough of the strange way Mrs. Bisler was acting. Not only had she barged into his house when his parents weren’t home, but she was treating him like a child or an invalid. If she had been anyone other than Chris’ mother, Dan might have been concerned for his safety. As it was, he wanted the nonsense to end.

  “Remember WHAT, Mrs. Bisler?” he said, his voice rising. The older woman recoiled, and took her hands off his arms. “What is it I’m supposed to remember, and just why are you acting so strange?”

  Mrs. Bisler’s worried eyes shifted to the front door. She pulled her hands together and began fidgeting with her purse strap.

  “Well, Dan, it’s just that … ” She was stumbling over her words. “I think I’d better go back outside and wait for your mother. I’ll be in my car if you need me, dear.”

  With that, she rushed past him and out the storm door, making a beeline for the shiny Pontiac standing at the curb. Dan snatched at her shawl as she went by, and he called after her, but she didn’t even look back.

  Dan stepped out onto the front stoop, hands held palms-up at his side in wonder at the scene that had just transpired. He was completely befuddled about what Mrs. Bisler was up to, but he thought the best thing to do would be to wait for his mother. What he WANTED to do was go to school, but he didn’t see anyway he could get past Mrs. Bisler’s car without her seeing him, and probably stopping him. So he went back inside and sat at the kitchen table again, but he left the front door open and turned his chair to face the street. From where he sat, he could keep an eye on Mrs. Bisler to make sure she wasn’t up to anything really weird, and he could see when his mother pulled up.

  Although it felt a lot longer to Dan at the time, the clock on the stove told him only six minutes passed from the time he sat down until Clara parked her car and walked over to speak with Mrs. Bisler. The other woman was agitated and pointed toward the house several times, then got out of her car again. The two women stood at the foot of the sidewalk speaking in hushed tones for a good five minutes, one of them occasionally glancing in Dan’s direction, before hugging and going separate ways. As Dan’s mother walked toward the house, Mrs. Bisler climbed back into her car and drove away. She tooted her horn twice as she passed by after turning around.

  Dan watched Clara clop up the sidewalk in her “working clothes,” as she called them — a khaki blouse and blue jeans, with a red bandana tied behind her head to keep her long red hair teased into a wavy pony tail. Dan always thought, had his mother been born 15 years later
, she would have made a great hippie. As it was, she made a pretty good mom and he was really glad to see her.