Saving Laurel

35. Baseball & Haircuts

Wes Thompson

There's a baseball game on the tv as I make my way to the living room. I've been playing the keyboard in my room all morning and most of last night.

Dropping to the couch, I settle into the brown leather and take a deep breath in hopes I can keep my tics at bay. I contemplated just staying in my room at the keyboard for my entire stay here but I also know that's rude plus Harper should be here soon.

"Hey bud." My dad says coming back into the living room from wherever he was. "How's the keyboard?"

The mention of it brings a smile to my face. "Great. Thank you again."

His head bobs because we've already had this conversation. He knows it, I know it.

My shoulder wants to tic which means the rest of it wants to follow and even though my usual cycle isn't that annoying, I think, I refrain from it.

"So how are the Tiger's looking this year?" Neutral, common ground.

That's where we need to stay. It's not that forced, gives us something to bond over even if I have to fake it a little.

"I've missed the last couple games." I tell my dad.

What I don't say is I didn't even try to watch them. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him.

"They're looking good." My dad lights up the way that only baseball makes him. "That guy they pulled from the minors is something else."

"I'll have to keep my eye out." I sound off to myself, trying to focus on what my dad is saying and not tic-ing leaves me a little robotic and emotionless.

I watch as the batter steps up to the plate, my mind sifting through memories of playing ball as a kid. Back before my tics got crazy and my OCD didn't try to run my life. I had this annoying blinking tic, I remember being so self conscious of it, now what I wanted give to just blink. But the air was hot and sticky, my uniform clinging to the dampness in my skin as  I focused on the pitcher. If I hit that ball right we could win the game. Sawyer was already trying to creep off third to make the run to home.

It's so vivid in my mind, the sun beating down, the crowd an indecipherable roar around me as the parents and families cheered us on. The pitcher was a chubby kid, looking something like a tomato in his red uniform but he was good, especially for the preteens that we were. He threw a fast ball and as I watched the ball hurtle toward me, my neck jerked to the left so hard all my muscles clenched and I felt the breeze of the ball as it passed by me.

The empire yelled "strike" and I tightened my fingers around the end of my metal bat. My stupid tics had gotten in the way.

I'm pulled from my memory suddenly as my dad shouts, jumping from his chair as he yells at the TV. And if that's not enough the front door swings open and my older sister spills into the house.

The very first thing she does is drop her purse and her shoes in the middle of the foyer and alarms start to sound in my head.

It's fine Wesley, keep it in.

"Hey girl!" My dad calls, his eyes trained on the TV even as he opens his arms for a hug.

I just want to tic. God do I want to.

Harper breezes farther into the house, the front door left open. Her brown hair is raked up into a ponytail, green eyes bright as she hugs my dad and smiles at me over his shoulder. I try to smile back but I'm about to lose control, I can feel my hold on everything starting to slip.

"Logan! My man!" My dad's voice fills the air and I watch as he releases Harper to do some bro hug thing with Harper's boyfriend that I've never met.

Awesome. I love meeting new people. 

Harper drops to the couch beside me and it's then I realize how rude I'm being. She nudges me in the shoulder but I'm fixated on the way Logan and my dad fall into easy conversation, something my dad and I struggle with unless it's about baseball. Jealously tries to flair inside me but it's probably mostly my fault. I avoid my dad's house like crazy, of course we don't know each other.

Still hurts though.

"Wesley?" I get nudged again, my attention redirecting to Harper. "Everything okay?"

Logan even looks more like my dad than I do, with his blond hair and dark eyes, tall and fit.

"Earth to Wesley?" Fingers snap in front of my face and it startles me.

My guard drops for a second and my head jerks to the left, that dumb tic I acquired lately keeps me in that position for a couple seconds before it releases me just to do it again.

"Sorry." I mutter when I'm still again but now my urge to tic has only doubled.

Like I pushed open the gate for just a little trickle but the flood wants to burst through.

"You okay?" Harper asks me again.

I meet her green eyes and I smile. "Yeah, I'm good."

Her fingers find my hair, playing with the mess that it is as she says "we need to do something with this."

"It's fine."

"I could cut it for you, give you a little style." She continues on, twisting strands of my hair between her fingers. "You look homeless."

I don't want a haircut, or a style. It's fine the way that it is but I can feel my resolve crumble, like it always does. I spend so much of my time being an inconvenience and distraction to everyone around me that I don't have it in me to hold my ground too.

"Sure." I cave and Harper's face lights up.

"After dinner, okay? You'll love it I promise."

Smiling, I agree. I just won't style it, ever. That way it doesn't disrupt my routine and everything can stay relatively the same.

It'll be fine.

                              ————————

I'm going up north today. For those that have been with me for a while this is about to be redundant.

Our cabin is in the middle of no where, literally. There is a fly fishing shop and a bar. Hit or miss if the gas station is open these days 😂. But anyway this means that service is not a thing. So unless I venture into a real town, don't expect an update tomorrow. Sunday's will be coming randomly depending on when we head home.