Message-ID: <46489asstr$1075896606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0402031131.785bfdce@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 3 Feb 2004 19:31:29 +0000 (UTC) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 3 Feb 2004 11:31:29 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 01/94 by jane Lines: 344 Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2004 07:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: hecate, dennyw Author: jane Title: Glimpses 01/94 Summary: Anna leaves a baseball game to find a different sort of action. Keywords: none Length: 1974 words Copyright: c. 2004 *25 August 1996, Sunday* _i sometimes think my characters ... anna, marsha and christina ... invented me to get to meet each other ... that could be ... its true that, at the very start of things, when first events took place, i didnt know them, could not imagine how they looked, or what theyd say or do ... and at the start, for them, they lived in different worlds than mine ... in different dreams completely ... south eastern manitoba ..._ § "You ignorant sonofabitch, the ball was two feet foul!" No trace of whimsy marred his scowl. The wide green field, the cloudless sky, the pinstriped uniforms supplied by Hillside Dairy, the river smell that laced the park: each peaceful prairie hue belied the coarseness of his yell. "Please." Anna pressed her hand against his jeans. "Don't embarrass her." Their daughter, nine, walked toward her bench, head down, a golden ponytail protruding from her cap. Thrown out at first, she scuffed a cloud of dust. "The fucking _ump's_ embarrassed her." His rage intact, Andrew turned to face his wife. "You don't get it, do you? She's good. 'Cause she's the only girl, she doesn't count? She fucking does." He stood. The bleachers shifted all along the row to underline his rant. "Wake up out there!" "Sit down," she pulled at him. "It's just a game." "It fucking's _not_ a 'game'. He missed the call." "It's just for fun," she pleaded. "It's a championship. 'Fun' isn't having half the plays screwed up by lousy umps." He glared. "I ought to pull her out of here. I'm going down and see." "Andrew! No!" She grabbed his arm. Her panic masked a movement on her left, a woman's hand that urged control, that touched her wrist and rested on her arm. She felt a warmth beside her ear. "He wouldn't, Hun." Anna turned and saw a stranger. She winced and wondered: _Andrew might, if pushed, do what he'd said: charge on the field, take Penny home._ She tried to signal. _I'm so sorry he's like this. Don't push him, though. It makes him worse._ "Please, just let it be," she pleaded with her husband. "Fucking right, I'll 'let it be.'" He sat back down. "They're deaf as well as blind." "Are you alright?" the stranger's voice, a murmur. Anna nodded. Then, she focused on the game, leaned forward, boney elbows gripping at her knees. She wished that she could yell out something nice, could shout encouragement. She wished a rolling, "Hum baby, battabattabatta," for the kids, but Anna didn't yell at sports. She only watched. She prayed that Penny wouldn't trip or make mistakes. She willed each ball to places Penny wasn't, wished them to another field. She wanted only that the boys would not resent her, her coach would be a friend. "That's off the plate a goddamn mile! Your son the pitcher, ump?" yelled Andrew. "Let's go. You're being awful." A man in front of them half-turned to empathize. "Anna, this is baseball. People yell, for Christ's sakes. Lighten up." "It's Little League baseball. These are children," the woman next to her said firmly. "It's baseball, lady. There's rules." Andrew stared ahead. "Watch the strike zone! Or let your seeing-eye dog call the game!" Anna wished she hadn't come. "Maybe _you_ should do it." The woman's voice was calm. "Maybe I just fucking will. So what." "Andrew, please. Let's go." Anna's face was scarlet. "You don't have to be profane. It's you that's wrecking this. For them and us." The woman leaned to face him. "There's lots of empty seats up there," Andrew clipped his words like he might strike her. He slapped again with, "Are they fucking paying you to blow these calls?" directed to the field. "You don't scare me. Grow up. This stinks for both our kids." The woman stood this time. Anna's stomach churned. The woman smiled at her, picked up her purse, and raised an eyebrow. "I need a coffee." "Me too." Then she turned to Andrew, "Please, behave. I won't be long." "Take your time. All the time you want," he mumbled. As they inched along the row, his eyes were on his daughter, Anna knew. He'd watch her feet and how she held her glove, make mental notes he'd share with Penny later it was done. He'd hope she'd have a chance to field the ball, to make the play that saved the game, to dance around the living room and show the way she'd caught it. He'd make her smile. Anna thought she heard him murmur to the batter as they started down the stairs, "Hit it out to left, you little snot. An' watch her run it down." § Behind the bleachers, the stranger exhaled deeply. "I'm Fran. Olson. Colin's mom. Right field. When he gets to play." "I apologize for Andrew. I hate these games. Anna Walsh." "He rags the coach. He scares the parents. Humiliates the kids." They walked toward a shabby hot dog stand. "We're new in town this summer. I can't believe they let him get away with this." "He loves her. She's an only child. He wants perfection." Shouts erupted from the field. "I'll never understand why winning's so important. I skied. For fun." "You're still in shape." Anna let the compliment collapse without acknowledgement. She thought that she was "handsome" at the most. Her short red hair seemed mousy; her face, too angular; her chest, too small. "It's been years." "You know, the coffee here's real bad. Colin won't get in to play. The score's too close; the coach won't take a chance on him today. Let's leave." Anna eyed the bleak concession stand. "I don't hear Andrew screaming. I probably make him worse." "Don't blame yourself. It's him." "I don't know how to act at games." "Half an hour? My car's just over there." They walked on gravel, caramelized with popcorn bits and peanut shells. _What if Penny loses? Without her mother there? Or loses? They'd likely be relieved._ Wrinkles framed the corners of her eyes. Fran, too, looked troubled, looked furtive, Anna thought. Then let herself be led toward the lot. § "What can I do you for?" the waiter queried. Dim light. Stools in graceless headstands on a bar. An all-male table in the corner. Except for those, the place was empty, so cold that gooseflesh rose on arms and legs. "No menus, Girls, till four." "Coffee. Black," said Anna. "My treat. A glass of wine. You earned it. Don't make me drink alone." "No. Really, coffee's fine. Well?" Anna tidied up the napkin's fold. "Sure." "Two. Merlot." They talked of children. They listened to the jukebox, lip-synched Donovan, and hummed with Patsy Cline. Testosterone flowed weakly from the table at the back: the chance of rain, the price of grain, the Bomber's quarterback. _Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me._ They laughed at memories; Fran's smile infected her. "I hope I didn't make things hard on you by speaking up." "You got me out of there. That's fine." Fran raised her glass. "To games played just for fun." "To fun. I'm glad we left." "Me too." Fran paused. "It must be hard. With him." Anna sipped her wine. "Sometimes." "If you ever need to talk, I'm a good listener. I mean it." "I ..." Anna hesitated. "He's strong. I used to love his strength. He's in control of everything. Ten years. Last month. Forever. I'm sorry he was mean." Anna placed her hand on Fran's. "He pissed me off." "It's me. I let him get away with it." Moisture formed along the rim of Anna's warm, blue eyes. "Anna." Fran laid another hand atop the two already clasped, like stacking saucers. "It's okay. It's him. Not you." "No. While I'm out drinking wine, he's there for her. He makes her feel important. Who's the better parent?" "Who's the better person?" "If only he just wouldn't push her ..." "Troy was like that, too, with Colin. 'Coached' him. As soon as he could walk. One reason that I kicked him out." She sipped the wine. "My best decision ever." "Must be difficult alone." "We see each other still. Off and on. He's in grad school at the U. of M. He'll never finish. It just goes on and on. Colin and I, we did okay." She winked. "Anyway, I wasn't alone much." "A boyfriend?" Anna blurted, dreaming of some Galahad that rescued wives from churlish husbands. Fran smiled. "I hope this doesn't shock you, Hun. The 'boyfriend' was a woman." "Oh." "I was eighteen when I had Colin, shacked up with Troy when he was still an undergraduate. When I dumped him it was either quit the U and move back to Saskatoon or find a roomie. I was lonely; she was bi. What can I say?" "Really?" "It turned out great. Much better than with Troy." Anna forced herself to close her mouth, forced her hand, the one that clasped a lesbian's, not to jerk away. _Don't be obvious. Can't leave it either. God, this blouse is thin. These shorts show everything. Say something, dummy. Something normal. Breathe. The same way that you breathed before._ "How nice." "I spent three years with her, until I finished my degree. Good times. Colin loved her. Until last year I caught her having an affair." "You've been through lots. I see why Andrew doesn't scare you." Anna thought her voice seemed steady. She slid her captive hand across her cheek to wipe a phantom tear, then placed it safely in her lap. "He's rotten." "He's never hit me." "He hurts in other ways. It shows. You love him?" "That's ..." _Directly to the point._ "Not an easy answer." "I'm curious." "It kills the cat, my mother used to say." Fran choked a laugh. "Lets have another glass." "I shouldn't. I really ought to go." "Tell me why you stick it out." "Besides Penny?" Anna sighed. "I booked a trip to Mexico for two next March. I thought it might ... you know. Somewhere different. Today that seems impossible." "I know." Fran caught her gaze and held it. Anna basked in sympathy, lulled, until a hand lay on her knee, the kind of touch that Anna might have placed on Penny's shoulder in a time of need. _Relax. Relax. Don't pull away. Don't freeze._ Her mind began to plan a subject change, but Fran derailed her with a finger touching lips. "Anna, the game's still on. Colin won't be home till five. I've got wine at my apartment." The hand was warm against her flesh. It moved! Her stomach tightened as the thumb advanced. Anna wasn't good with invitations. She who hesitates is lost, her mother would have said. Fran's voice was light; the words were cheerful. "Nothing complicated. Just a drink." Her hand said more; it slid a little further up her thigh. An inch. A terrifying mile. "If ..." started on her lips like there were consequences to consider. The hand, suddenly more loud than music, moved again, absorbing consciousness. It took away the jukebox and the summer, played its own strange melody. The thumb strummed once, a chord across her flesh so low and sweet that Anna thought she recognized the tune. She mouthed it; Come, play a song for me. "I promise I won't tie you up. I'm not kinky." A voice said, Tie you up and Kinky. A hand sang, Jingle jangle morning. An friendly invitation. Her fingers, still pretending to relax, traced round the edges of a unused spoon. She spoke toward the table, "No, I can't. I couldn't really." The singing stopped. The hand was gone. Loretta Lynn returned. "I'm sorry, Anna. Really. I only meant to comfort. I let myself get muddled by the wine. Forgive me?" "No, nothing's wrong. I'd better go. That's all." -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+