The Line Drive

thirty-five

Dane

I hate myself. On the weekend, I sit in my room and do my homework. I refuse to leave, because I know that if I see Grant I'll want to kill him. My shoulder hurts, but I refuse to take the pain medication, because it fogs my brain. So I flush it down the toilet and immediately regret it. I know it's shitty to put drugs into the water. 

I hate myself. Noah and Mackenzie take turns dropping food outside of my door. I wait until they leave before I grab it. 

Mackenzie's words had gotten under my skin. Give up. I'd told her.

Like you are? The words echoed in my brain. I wasn't a quitter, and I wouldn't let Mackenzie be right. Not about this. 

I hate myself. I let Noah drive to school and it's awkwardly quiet on our ride there. He tries to tell me funny stories about him and Hannah, but it just makes me feel fucking lonely. All I want is Mackenzie. I want her to smile again, to laugh. But when she brings me home from school, all I can do is scowl. I feel like something inside of me is broken. 

I hate myself. Because I know that I'm breaking Mackenzie too. Noah can withstand the torment because we're friends, he's a guy, and he has baseball. But Mackenzie, we're more than just friends. I know that we're more. We've bonded. She gets me. She sees more of me than anyone has. And I'm breaking her. I'm breaking her because I hate myself and can't admit to her that it's not her, it's me. 

I hate myself. Every time I see her I say something snappy and rude. She's basically stopped speaking to me entirely. She doesn't say hello when she picks me up anymore. Instead, her face is tired, and she doesn't smile even when she sees dogs walk past us on the sidewalk. I know I'm at fault, but I can't stop. I want to destroy everything like my career has been destroyed. 

I hate myself, and by Friday, I've had enough time to realize why. I've had enough time to realize that I need to figure my shit out now. I've also had the time to get the lecture of my fucking life from Noah as he yelled through my door. The conversation was still crystal clear in my head. After Noah had knocked and I'd refused to let him in, he'd just yelled everything he wanted to say at me through the door on Thursday night. 

I don't know what the fuck your problem is Dane Sawyer. Mackenzie tutored you because you fucking asked her to, on top of her two other jobs. She brings you food. She listens to all your dumb bullshit. She met your family. That girl does everything for you! You're treating her like shit and she doesn't fucking deserve it! Every time she's come here when the baseball team is here, Grant slaps her on the ass. 

He what? This is when I'd finally decided to reply.

He's fucking harassing her, Dane. And he won't listen to me when I tell him to stop. Keeps telling her that you're not worth it and shit. It's fucking disgusting. Do you know what he said to her last night? Noah had paused for so long that I'd thought maybe he left. That Amy left you for him, and that Mack shouldn't bother trying to win you over, because she'll realize eventually that he's the right choice. 

Jesus. I couldn't help my reply, but it made me so mad. 

You should have seen her face, Dane. She was so upset. You need to fix this. 

I can't.

Yes you fucking can. Pull your head out of your ass and treat that girl how she deserves. Then Noah had walked away, leaving me with my thoughts.

This is when I'd thought about why I hate myself. Why I constantly put baseball before anything else, and why now that it's gone, I don't even really care. I never did baseball for me. I tried to make my dad proud. And I hate myself because this is a classic storyline. How had I not thought about the fact that I was doing everything for him. 

I loved biology. I loved learning. Mackenzie got that. Mackenzie got me. And I hated that she saw through me when no one else did. But that wasn't her fault. And so I'd decided that I had to be better. I had to be better for Mackenzie. 

When Mackenzie picks me up on Friday, she barely acknowledges me. I wonder if she remembers that today is my first physical therapy day. I'm having a hard time finding the words to say to her stony face, so I just wait and see where we end up. Apparently she remembers, because she drives us to the hospital instead of my house.  

It surprises me when she steps out of the car as well. "You're coming with me?"

"I thought the extra pair of ears might be helpful." She looks so dejected. "I don't have to come if you don't want to." I know she's anticipating me saying that she shouldn't come. I'm anticipating that too.

My mouth betrays me. "I want you to come." Finally, I'm doing something fucking right. Maybe I can fix this absolute mess that I've made with Mackenzie. Maybe there's hope for me after all. 

This earns me the smallest of smiles. She follows me inside. While we wait for the doctor, I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She still has the same proud posture that she always does, and although her eyes are really tired, they're the same beautiful hazel that they've always been. "Are you coming to our party tonight?" I ask her.

"I don't know."

"You should come." She looks surprised and opens her mouth to say something but of course the doctor has to fucking interrupt. 

The doctor checks out my shoulder, says I'm looking really good, and then the physical therapist enters. We walk through exercises and Mackenzie, being Mackenzie, takes notes. I'm actually really grateful even though I'm not ready to admit it to her. 

Our ride home is silent, she barely acknowledges me. I know she has a lot on her mind. I know that she has a newspaper issue that she's putting together this weekend. But selfishly, I want her at the party tonight. I want her to be there with me, so I can make up the last week and a half that I've been so shitty to her. 

When we drive up to my house, she doesn't get out. I turn to look at her and she refuses to make eye contact. "Please come tonight." I say.

"We'll see." Is all she says. 

So I get out of the car, realizing that I may have fucked this up beyond repair.