18
Gavin
The sun slidesdown the sky slowly, lazily. It’s as if the sun is a kid, trying to push his bedtime back as far as possible, because it knows the early nights of winter are coming. Not that I’m complaining. The longer daylight means that I can be outside, playing a game of baseball with Elijah, Tanner, and Shay.
Surprisingly, a girl pretending to be a cat is really good at fielding a ball. Elijah has a mean right arm, and nearly every time Tanner swings, he hits the ball to the outfield. The “outfield” being the grass past the stone barn.
I spin the baseball in my hand, the stitching rubbing over my fingers, as I eye Elijah’s stance. He’s swinging the bat, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. Tanner’s on second base and Shay’s in the outfield.
“Come on, Elijah!” Tanner shouts, jumping up and down. If he hits it and Tanner makes it to home plate, then I’m clearing the table and doing dishes tonight. That’s a big deal, since apparently Tanner has been working for months on a robotic arm dish scrubber to no avail. Maybe I can blow his mind someday and bring home an actual dishwasher.
I blow on the ball and wind up my arm.
Elijah’s eyes grow wide and then I let loose a pitch straight down the middle.
“Hit it!” shouts Tanner.
Elijah cranks his arm back then swings for all he’s worth. A loud crack sounds as his bat smacks the ball. Tanner shouts in triumph. Elijah drops the bat and stares open-mouthed at the ball flying through the air.
“Run! Run!” Tanner waves his arms.
Elijah realizes he’s going to have to wash dishes if we tag him out, so he snaps out of it and sprints toward first base.
I try to hold in my laughter. Tanner’s arms pump wildly as he jumps through the grass, heading toward the pile of gears and motors we dubbed third base. Elijah sprints toward the chicken coop, aka first base. And the ball finally hits the ground. It lands ten feet from Shay. She looks at me in surprise and I can see her mouth go “meow!” Then she pounces through the grass like a cat on a hunt.
I can’t hold it in anymore, I laugh as I run toward her.
“Get it!” I wave at the ball. She somersaults through the grass.
She grasps the ball and thrusts it in the air, a triumphant smile on her face. Tanner is nearly to home plate and Elijah is rounding into second.
“Come on. Let’s get ’em.” I grab her, pop her on my shoulders and then run toward home plate.
“Run, Elijah! They’re coming!” Tanner jumps up and down at home plate, waving his arms.
Shay grabs my shoulders and shrieks with laughter. Elijah sees us coming and kicks it into high gear, there’s no way that kid’s doing dishes tonight. He slides through the grass, dirt flying up in the air, and lands at home plate.
“Yeah!” Tanner jumps on him to celebrate, and I get to the plate seconds behind. I drop to my knees and pretend exhaustion. Shay rolls off my shoulders and I fall over.
“You win. How could you win?” I land in the grass, and then all the kids are tumbling and wrestling and laughing.
I look over at Elijah. He’s smeared in grass and dirt and his eyes are lit up. I remember the first time I saw the kids. They were dirt-covered then too. I thought it was because they were unkempt. Now I know better. The dirtier you are, the more fun you’re having.
I look at him, as if to ask, am I doing okay?
His chin dips and he gives me a nod.
My heart swells as I take in the sound of laughter, the dandelion fluff floating through the air from us rolling over the seed heads, and the smell of crushed grass and mud. I’m glad I woke up to this. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d woken up alone, without a wife and a family. Miserable, I’d think.
There’s a sharp peck on my leg. I sit up and there’s my namesake, Billy the darn cock, pecking at my calf. I narrow my eyes. “You darn bird.”
The kids laugh.
Tanner points. “Mom calls him ‘drumstick.’”
“And ‘soup stock’ or ‘pot pie.’” Elijah adds.
I grin at them. I can see why. I’d like to call him a few things too.