Rocket Car

Chapter 10

Author's Note: I looked back on previous chapters and noticed I made some tense mistakes. Probably shouldn't be writing these in the middle of the night. I will fix.

Also, it's weird to think the majority of the people on this site are the age that I was in 2005/2006... (I think... I see a lot of high schoolers here)

Rocket Car

I have no idea how long passes before Davis finally calms down. When he does, not a single word is uttered from him. He merely ensures his face is clean of any tears or snot and then adjusts his glasses before lying back down again. For a moment I stay upright, looking down on him. I peer into his eyes and fish for something, but nothing gives. He doesn't even notice how intently I'm staring at him. With a hearty sigh I give up. He's too focused on the stars to realize I'm there.

I decide to lay down, too. Using his abdomen as a support I turn my vision to the heavens. He's… comfortable. Just an average build, nothing special. I remain quiet and motionless, giving him a chance to dismiss me if he's uncomfortable with the arrangement. There's nothing, just a deep inhale followed by a slow exhale.

"What was that about?" I finally ask.

"Just drunk," he answers immediately. A tick goes by and then he realizes he wasn't sure what I was talking about. "Hm? You mean the crying or the… other… thing?"

Other thing? "The crying."

"Oh," he says, sounding relieved. "Thinkin' about all the years I wasted, I guess."

I roll onto my side so I'm facing him. Well, sort of. I can see his chin and the tip of his nose but I couldn't make out any expression. Davis is as boring as a board when it comes to showing off his emotions, except when drunk. Clearly, he's grown aware of that and he's hiding it from me. Irritating.

"No point in dwelling on it. It's not going to change anything," I tell him.

"I know," he says. It's done with such little emotion or enunciation that I'm kind of frightened by it. How can someone go from being a sobbing child in my arms to an apathetic robot?

Something touches my head and I freeze up. It takes a few seconds for me to relax after I realize it was just Davis. Thoughtlessly he's started running his fingers through my hair. I'm sure it's a relaxing, mindless gesture for him to do. The act even changes his breathing. It's less shallow now and much more peaceful. The gentle movement of his fingers and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is about to lull me to sleep.

Then I think about Alexa and I feel an unusual tension hit my entire body. It's an odd feeling, one I've never experienced. Is it jealousy? All I can think about is: how many times did Davis and Alexa share moments like this? How badly does he wish it was her instead, since he's lamenting those "wasted years?" Based on what I've gathered, their recent "break up" was fairly recent. Not like such things are unusual, considering how often they'd broken up and gotten back together over the last twelve years.

"I don't think we wasted any years," I suddenly say. His body trembles as he tries to hold back a laugh. I must've sounded a little dramatic when I said it. There's no stopping my hand as it lies on his chest, seeking a less awkward position. I feel a slight jump in his heartbeat at the move before it returns to its original pattern. "Although, I wish I knew why you weren't a team trainer or something by now."

My words have no effect on his motions; they continue on without interruption. "I haven't really talked to anyone about it," he says quietly. There's a lull in words. I assume that's the end of it, but he proves me wrong when he continues, "I had kind of a breakdown my third year. I asked Alexa to marry me and she turned me down so we went on a bit of a hiatus. My grades weren't very good so I was scrambling to maintain my scholarship. It was kind of a s**t show. Then my dad died. And that was it."

Ah, Alexa and his dad – a lethal combination. I say nothing; I merely let my hand begin to make small, soothing gestures on his chest. I can't physically feel a panic attack coming on but I'm sensing he wants one.

Aware I'm not going to interrupt him, he continues, "Just… stopped. Stopped doing everything. Stopped school, stopped work, stopped eating, stopping sleeping. The first day I don't even remember, and the second and third are just blurs. But then I got up one morning at four, just like the three of us always did in high school. And I went for a run, just like back then. Kept going until I ended up on this overpass that apparently is pretty popular for jumpers."

I sit up without thought. There's no way he can avoid the eye contact this time, as I'm burning my eyes into his skull. He tears his vision away from the sky and looks at me, surprised at my reaction. I watch as his face twists and turns, unsure how to respond to my concern. His eyes stay awfully serious but his lips curve into a grin and a small chuckle escapes his lips. The hands that were playing with my hair are now tightly gripping my arms, reassuring me of his strength.

"Relax, I wasn't going to jump. At least, I don't think so."

I huff, feeling forced to accept his admission. Slowly I retreat to my previous position, and his hands follow suit. This time, he holds me close, somehow hoping the action is a comfort to me.

"I wasn't thinking about death, honestly. I was thinking about life. I watched these cars whiz by at seventy miles an hour, just blurs in my vision. Each one carrying something unique. A career woman hustling to work, trying to prove the doubters wrong. A mom arguing with her three kids as the oldest drops her cellphone out the window. A single dad juggling a coffee in one hand and the wheel in the other, not sure whether he's going get the baby to the daycare in time for work. A group of college kids that hadn't slept the night before because they were finishing that semester's project at the last second. Someone that has a family, someone that doesn't; someone that has a future, someone that doesn't; someone that's stuck in the past and someone that's running from it.

"All these unique experiences, unique perspectives, unique blinks in the universe. Isn't that crazy? We grow up in this town of a few thousand and feel like we've experienced so much, but really it wasn't anything at all. For a moment, I felt like I wasn't anything at all. It was dark, raining. I didn't have a girlfriend, a dad – which, now I don't even understand why I wanted his approval so bad – but… my future was just as a dark as the freeway that morning. So I sat down. I climbed over the fence and sat on the ledge of the overpass. I just let my feet dangle. I think I was hoping for a rush or something. Something to remind me of why I was alive in the first place.

"Then I got this text message. It was forty-three minutes past four in the morning. And my phone goes off. It's pitch black out, so the light of the screen was so blinding I nearly fell. You know what that text message said? 'San Francisco has made me so fat. I miss running with you and Jeep. Promise we'll play a game next summer when we get together?'"

My heart stops. He remembered the exact time I sent that text message. He remembered every word. Funny, isn't it? How you can reach out to someone with no real purpose in mind, but it suddenly becomes the reason they're with you now? As I reach back into my memory banks, I can't quite recall what the hell I was doing up that early. How often had I sent random messages like that to one of the gang from high school for no real reason other than to connect? Eventually, they stopped responding or I stopped sending, whichever it was.

Somehow, he pulls me closer than we already were. He certainly felt the shift in my body language. "Wanna know something? I laughed. I laughed so hard. I hadn't even told you all of this, even though you were the one I wanted to tell the most. But, anyway… I climbed back over the fence only to find an officer waiting for me. I sort of got institutionalized for a bit after that. So, sorry for not responding back then. But here's my response now: Yes. Let's play a ballgame this summer."

I pout and say, "I'm not in good enough shape for that."

He snickers and dares to look down at my face. I want to say his smile is infectious, but I manage to maintain my upturned expression. "No, you're perfect. You're in great shape. You're beautiful."

This time, I kiss him. It was meant to be a friendly peck on the lips but I linger much longer than normal. I'm sure the fact that I decided to hold his face between my hands doesn't help, either. When I go to pull away, he tries to follow, desperate to keep contact. My mistake; he's drunk and acting much too emotional now. One look into his eyes after the kiss and I can tell he's taken it completely the wrong way.

Davis is secretly a passionate animal. I know this better than anyone, I'm sure. There are secrets he's shared with me that he never told another soul, even Alexa. I know all about his dad; the years Davis spent trying to earn his approval despite what a pathetic human his father was. I know about his insecurities; the fact that he clung to Alexa so long because he can't imagine anyone would want him. I know that he had a crush on Sailor Jupiter, he thinks dogs are better than cats, he once slammed his finger with a hammer just to see what it felt like, he rubs his neck when he's nervous, he hates snow…

I know that despite the fact he had always seemed boring, uninspired, and unoriginal to all the other kids, he was certainly none of those things. No one loved or lived with all their heart the way he had, even if he tried his best to hide it at times.

May 21st, 2005

"This is going to be his last inning, huh?"

"Yeah, ever."

Kristy couldn't help but overhear the two chattering men in front of her in the baseball bleachers. No doubt their conversation was about the lanky young man on the pitcher's mound. The boy in the glasses was breathing heavier than usual, nearly failing to exhale properly before throwing. Sweat was pooling around his brow and threatening to drip into his eyes. He removed his glasses and his hat before using a dirty sleeve to wipe his face clean.

"You see that? His shoulder is killing him," one of the men pointed out.

Kristy has to admit even she noticed the way Davis reeled when he raised his arms to clean his face. The grimace his face made had nothing to do with anything getting in his eyes. Fatigue was no doubt a factor. Unbearable heat hit the town early, and was nearly suffocating everyone. Pressure on the mound must have increased the sensation of heat tenfold.

"It's injured. Permanently," the other commented.

Kristy doesn't believe it. She never vocalizes that, though.

"Probably his old man, eh? Well, he's well over eighty pitches now. If the coach forces him to close it out it'll blow his chance at a career," the first man speculated.

As if on cue, the coach left the bench and moved toward the mound. A brief conversation was had, but all Kristy could see was the grip Davis had on the ball tighten and him shaking his head defiantly. Irritated but seemingly convinced, the coach left the mound and made no pitching change. As the players dispersed back to their positions, Kristy's eyes never left Davis. Tired arms adjusted his cap, his gloves, made sure his grip was correct and then he leaned in. Just one more pitch.

That was the last game Davis ever played in organized sports, but he'll proudly say that they won.

October 3rd, 2005

Davis seemed to have a giant target on his back. When it came to bullying he just took it meekly. Kristy and Jeep had often gotten into brawls for his sake. Even if it bothered him to have his friends fighting, it bothered them even more to watch their friend just take the relentless attacks at times. Having the baseball team on his side made school a bit easier, but after admitting he wouldn't be able to return the following season, it had really ramped up.

It was only the second month of the school year and Jeep had received his second suspension for fighting on Davis's behalf. Kristy had gone through a few detentions more than normal. Threatened that she wouldn't be allowed to play on the softball team if she got caught again, she still nearly decked James Ochoa in the face for shoving Davis around. The only reason she didn't was the strong hold Davis had on her arm at the time.

"Well hello, Barnes," James called out as he passed by in the cafeteria. Kristy was already halfway out of her seat just based on James's tone. Between Davis's strong arm and Willie physically pushing her back, she wasn't able to launch an unprovoked attack.

"What do you want, Ochoa?" Willie demanded. It wasn't the best position for Willie to be in. Davis was his closest friend in town and Kristy was his girlfriend. Still, he didn't necessarily have a beef with the baseball team, either.

James shrugged. "Nothing, Waechter. Just wanted to let Barnes know that his little girlfriend Alexa gives good head."

Davis and Willie had to restrain Kristy again, this time with enough force her chair was removed from under her. Now the two of them were holding her up. A quick glance around and – surprise – Alexa was nowhere to be found.

"Sit down, Ochoa, before I make you sit down," Willie threatened.

James laughed loud enough that nearly the entire cafeteria stopped to look. Aware others were watching, James raised his voice when said, "Please, Waechter. You're all of five foot six, you couldn't even beat up Barnes." If that was supposed to rile Willie up, it failed. "Come on, half the team knows how much we all love to hear that little w***e squeal when she's getting pounded."

"Stop being so f*****g disgusting. Get lost," Willie said, his voice rising to match. By this point, Davis had decided the conversation wasn't worth his attention so he turned back to his chilled school lunch.

James gave a toothy grin and a raised brow. "What's this? So it's okay to tell the guys in the locker room that your favorite thing about kinky Kristy is her desperate moans but I can't share information everyone already knows?" he prodded.

Kristy was too torn between her embarrassment over the statement and her fury that she merely just sat there, blushing. Davis was done eating; his appetite was gone. His eyes bounced between the short second baseman and his jackass teammate. Willie was ready to punch, yet his ability to control his anger was working a little too well for James's liking.

James went right for what he knew would piss Willie off more than anything. Before anyone could react he had yanked Kristy up, groped her breasts, and said, "All you softball girls are sluts."

Willie reeled back to punch James in that moment but he was too late. Someone else was a bit quicker. Davis used all of the force he could muster into one punch. James dropped to the floor; Kristy would've went with him if Willie hadn't caught her. The rest of the cafeteria sat in awe as Davis unloaded a dozen punches against the bloodied and bruised face of James.

When a teacher finally pulled Davis off, half of his knuckles were broken. His hands didn't look half as bad as James Ochoa's face – or the bloodied mess his broken skull had left behind.

May 25th, 2007

"Sorry this took so long."

"It's fine. I wouldn't want to spend my night with anyone else!"

Her heart fluttered at those words. It wasn't the content as much as it was the sincerity of it. Davis was always like that; he never wasted his time with things that never mattered, and that included wasted words. For a moment she observed him; she watched as he smiled contently to himself as he shoved the rest of the equipment in the last bag, made sure it zipped properly, and then slung it over his shoulder.

The expression on her face must have been awfully serious because he frowned the moment he looked at her. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said honestly.

He shifted the equipment bag to get it into a more comfortable position. The noise it made as bats rattled around inside seemed deafening. "Are you sure?" he questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about how grown up you look. I mean, compared to the first time we ever played on this field."

He laughed at her. "I hope so! We were ten the first time we played here! We graduate in a few days. If I looked the same I'd be concerned!"

"Yeah, I guess. We're not even playing anymore," she said with a little sigh. The tone seemed forlorn.

In an attempt to cheer her up, he gave her a hardy smack on her back. "Nope. We're coaching now. And it's way more exciting!"

Her mind goes back to just an hour ago as their little youth baseball team found itself in a tough situation. Down by quite a fun runs, the team was losing morale. Regardless of whatever came out of her mouth, nothing changed. Then Davis spoke up. It wasn't an Oscar worthy speech but he highlighted all the points that mattered. He reminded everyone what baseball was all about: living an entire lifetime each inning, putting your soul into each play, polishing the diamond with your sweat and effort…

The memory of his face, flushed with excitement for the game and for life, made her giggle. In one brief moment he had shown his true heart to her and their team. It was something she knew she would treasure for life.

"What's so funny?"

It takes a moment for her to control herself and answer. "Nothing. Really, nothing! Don't you have a date with Alexa? You'd better get going."

"Alexa? Well… yeah her team has a game tonight but… it's already dark out. I'll walk you home, if that's okay?"

"… sure. I'd like that."

Behind his glasses his eyes flash with a depth she'd never seen before or since.