Wes

“Would you like something to drink, Sir?”

I take my headphones out of my ears just in time to catch the flight attendant’s question as she places a perfectly squared white napkin on the tray table before me. The young brunette smiles as she scoops some ice into a little plastic cup, never taking her light brown eyes off of me. She is beautiful, tall, curvy, and oozes sex appeal. Her hair is pulled back into a very neat bun, while her wide eyes look me over carefully. It is the way she gazes at me that lets me know she knows exactly who I am. How could she not? After all, I’m the star pitcher for the New York Tigers. For the last month, my face has donned every major magazine. Sports and gossip related.

“Coke, please,” I requests, leaning back a bit in my seat and placing my laptop in the empty seat next to me. I made it a mission to buy out the first class seat next to me, whenever I flew. It saves me from the mindless awkward conversations that seems to come with traveling. It wasn’t so much that I was shy, I just never saw the need to pretend to be interested in someone else’s life because you just so happened to be trapped in a flying metal box.

“Are you Weston Brooks?” she questions as she placed the cup on the tray before me. She licks her bottom lip in quick soft motion. She’s nervous. Most women are when they found out who I am. I don’t blame them. I have a reputation with the ladies. You don’t get to the top gossip magazines without dating the best and breaking a few hearts along the way. I’m never one to keep a low profile and my dating life proved that.

I pick up the cup and brings it to my lips, letting the fizz from the carbonation tickle the hairs on my upper lip. I take a quick calculated look at her name tag, unable to recall her saying it during her speech in preparation for takeoff.  Beth.

“I am. Beth.”

She blushes at the sound of her name, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re a lot better looking in person, than your photos.”

Bold girl. Perhaps she wasn’t as sweet and innocent as I’d thought her to be. In normal circumstances I would enjoy the dance that usually comes next. A little flirting, casual conversation, and her slipping me her number so we could make a future date with my hotel room. In fact, my hardening cock wanted to see if I could take her in bathroom. I can almost picture how she would taste on my tongue and the thought excites me.

But not today. Today, I’m flying back home to Tulsa, OK, after my sister Clare, had given me the bad news. Our father had a heart attack earlier in the day and was fighting for his life. He’s stable now, but not quite out of the woods.

I had been practicing for an upcoming home game, when my pitching coach came and got me from the bullpen. I could tell by the way his wrinkled face looked at me, that it wasn’t good news. Coach Rhodes wasn’t a sappy type of man. He hid his emotions well. It was what made him such a legendary pitcher in his day. No one could read his pitches. For all the guy standing on the opposite side of mound knew, that next pitch could’ve been a changeup, fastball, cutter, or a sinker down low.

I admire Coach Rhodes. He took a twenty-two year old kid from a dusty blue collared life and made me into something better than I ever dreamed possible. Most people don’t realize that it takes more than just talent to get anywhere in life. It takes someone seeing something in you that you can’t quite see yourself.

“Shouldn’t you be pitching?” Beth asks, bringing my attention back to her.

If she followed the team at all, she’d know about why I’m not standing on the mound taking signals from my catcher Rodriguez. By now, every sports channel in New York had reported my absences at tonight’s game.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, an older gentleman sitting behind me clears his throat in an irritated way. He’s no doubt annoyed by Beth’s gawking attention on me. But it’s enough to get her to remember that she has a job to do, starting with the irritated man behind me.   

I don’t waste much time, and I use the opportunity to reach for my earbuds and place them back into my ears.  The sounds of Kenney Chesney brings me back to my thoughts and the home I walked away from.

It has been a few years since I’d actually stepped foot on my parent’s farm. Most of the time I chalk the lack of visiting to my work obligations but I knew it was more than that. My mother often traveled to see me play when she could break away from the farm.

Part of the reason I’ve stayed away for so long, was because I knew what my father wanted from me. It wasn’t a secret. In fact, the old man touted it to everyone that would listen. Nothing meant more to him than, his eldest son taking over the farm and continuing the family business. However, the farm life just wasn’t for me.

 I’m a true country boy at heart, but I had a passion for baseball that developed at a very young age. It was the crowed I loved the most. I feed off their energy, and live for it. It had all but broken my father’s heart when I’d gotten my full ride to college on a baseball scholarship. He could never understand that it was my ticket out. Giving that up, wasn’t an option for me.

Polishing off the rest of my drink, I let my mind drift to the good memories I have of my father. Nights he would toss a baseball with me out front. Even the times, we’d work together on his old 1968 Chevy, which he holds so dear to him. Mom would often say he valued that truck over her, but deep down she knew it wasn’t true. Showing affection, wasn’t the Brooks way. I could probably count on one hand, how many times he said he loved me. He certainly didn’t say it the day I left for college, nor did I expect him to. Still, I knew he wanted to. He just didn’t know how. I can only assume he got this way from his own father. I didn’t get the chance to meet my grandfather. He died before I was born. From what little I knew of him, he was known for his brutal honesty and even tougher spirit. He was a true Jack of all trades.

Growing up on the farm had it advantages. There were things I loved about it, and people that made it worth the hard work it yielded out from you on a day to day basis. None more precious to me than Josie Donohue. A girl that was just as wild and untamed as the Shawnee blood coursing through her veins. Not a day had gone by that I didn’t think about her. Even now, as the lights dim down in the cabin, I find myself wondering how much she had changed in ten years. All I had was the memory of a sixteen-year -old with beautiful honey brown skin, long flowing wild and wavy hair, and the softest hazel eyes I had ever seen.

Like me, she had farming in her blood. Her father’s family, owned the land just a few short miles of town for the last three generations. Turning the small half acre of land into one of the most profitable ranches this part of Oklahoma had ever seen. Which wasn’t an easy feat for his family that suffered through Jim Crow laws, and other forms of oppression.

Even the night I told her I was going away to college replays in my mind like some sort of broken record. It was the only time I had seen those eyes shed a tear in my presence. It’s really a nightmare of sorts. We were alone in my old treehouse, watching the moon cast shadows over the things below us. I remember telling her that nothing would change. That I wouldn’t change. I would be home for winter breaks, holidays, and the end of every semester. The first semester went by faster than I had thought, and I didn’t go home as I had expected. I wrote to her with the promise that I’d see her in the spring, and even when that came and went, I still didn’t go back. At the time, I didn’t realize how much the fear of being sucked back into it all, lingered over me like a grey cloud. But I couldn’t tell her that. And as baseball began to pick up, I realized I didn’t have time to write to her. Coaches told me to eliminate distractions if I had any hope in getting scouted from an MLB team. And so I did, I eliminated her.

“Ladies and Gentleman, this is your captain speaking. We’re about twenty-five mins from landing here in Tulsa. I ask that you remain seated for the duration of the flight, as the seatbelt light will now turn on.  Thank you. Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”

We land ten minutes ahead of schedule at Tulsa International Airport.  Before the pilot can give us the go head, I’m already taking my phone out of airplane mode. Clare insisted on picking me up from the airport, although it wasn’t necessary. 

“Did you enjoy your flight, Mr. Brooks?” Beth questions, as we come to a stop. The sound of seats belts being unfastened and overhead bins opening, fills the air around us. 

“I did. Thank you.” I eye the folded piece of paper discreetly hidden in her fingers and can’t help but smile. She was certainly not as shy as I had believed her to be. I’m off my game. A rare occurrence.

Beth leans over brushes against me, allowing her breast to rub slightly against my arm, as she places the piece of paper, in my lap. “I’m based in New York, if you’re every interested in getting together.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, before turning on her heels and placing back on her friendly smile and not her seductive take-me-to-bed look. With my reputation, I’m sure she assumes that she has one. But her assumption is only a sign that she was exactly the type of woman I was no longer interested in. And so, I place the note on the seat next to me, and finish tucking away my things back into my carryon.

Clare is waiting for me right near the baggage claim area. Her round belly has grown even bigger since the last time I saw her, which hadn’t been more than a month. Her blonde hair is pulled in a messy pony tail of sorts behind her head, and I try to contemplate, when my little sister became a mother of two with one on the way.

The closer I get, the more I can see how puffy her eyes had become. She’s been crying. The pain is written all over her face.

“Welcome home, Wes.” She says through a sudden flow of tears. I wrap my arms around her instantly trying to give her the support I know she so desperately needs. 

“Where’s Jake?” I question looking about to see if my brother-in-law was around as well.

She steps out of my loose hold and places a hand on her belly. “Jake’s waiting for us outside. The girls are at their grandparents for the night, so you’ll see them tomorrow.”

The conveyor belt on lane eight hums itself awake, as some of the people I recognize from my flight start to gather around it.

“How is dad?” I question making our way over to the conveyor.

Clare shrugs. “He’s better. Mom is worried sick of course. But I know she’ll be happy to see you. I think he will be happy as well.”

“Maybe.” I utter under my breath as the first bag makes it way up the platform and onto the belt.

“Don’t do that Wes.”

“He wasn’t happy to see me go.” I remind her.

“None of us were. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”

“Well you and mom at least come to my games.”

“You know how dad is. He hates to leave the ranch.”

I mumble under my breath and not a second later, I feel Clare’s fist punching me in the arm.

“Knock it off. I’m not too pregnant to kick your ass. You may be Mr. Big Shot in New York but with me, you’re still my annoying little brother.

I roll my eyes as I try to stifle a laugh. “And they say pregnant women aren’t mean.”

Clare laughs, and it’s a welcomed sound. I missed us being this way. I missed her.

“Hey, why don’t you and Jake got to Buck’s tonight. I know how much you love that place. Besides, Jake’s been cooped up with this mean pregnant woman long enough. He deserves a beak and you need to relax. You know, clear that head of yours before tomorrow morning. I’ll have the guest bed ready for you when you guys get back”

I can’t help but stifle a laugh. “I’ve must’ve gotten kicked out of that place twenty times in high school.”

“Yea well, I’m sure you’ll be a welcomed hometown hero tonight.”

Nodding, I grab my bag just as it makes its way around the corner.  Clare is right. I need to clear my head as much as I possibly can before tomorrow.

Josie

“L-Leukemia?” I breathe trying out the formation of the word for myself. My voice cracks from the unusual warm temperature of Dr. Edward’s office.  Blood rushes to my cheeks and a wave heat strikes me, causing the palms of my hands to become sweaty and clammy. I force my tongue across my lips trying to moisten my dry mouth.

“Josie,” my father says as he reaches for my trembling hand. His warm hand is like a blanket over me briefly stills me. I can feel the pressure of his eyes watching me but I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’ll only fall apart and I’m not ready to fall apart in front of him.

Dr. Edward pushes a forced smile then clears his throat before peering at me over his thick round glasses. “I know this is a lot to take in Miss Donahue. But I assure you, with an aggressive form of treatment, I’m confident in your chances of beating this.”  

I swallow hard and think back to how I got here. The last few months had been extremely difficult for me. At the beginning, my symptoms were too subtle to think much of it. It started with fatigue, but I chopped that up to long nights on the ranch. Then came the headaches, and after that I experienced some dizziness. I blamed those on the sun, after all it was the middle of another problem I thought could only blame the ranch for. But it wasn’t until I fainted over breakfast a few weeks ago that I knew something was wrong.

Dr. Smith goes on, leaning closer towards the desk and placing some papers before my father and I. “Josie, I had the nurse print out some material about Leukemia for you to review. Obviously there are some more test we need to run. But due to you fainting so often I’d like to get you going with treatment right away.”

I swallow nervously, and force myself to reach for the papers in front of me. Since the fainting spells had gotten more frequent, I had to rely on my father to take me places. It wasn’t so much the fainting that bothered me, just the dreams that came with it. They were haunting at times, made me feel as though I was looking through someone else’s eyes.

“W-what sort of treatment?”

“For starters, you’re a good candidate for chemotherapy.”

My breath hitches at mention of that word. Chemo.

“Of course there will be side effects.”

“Like hair loss?”

Without skipping a beat, Dr. Smith nods and continues. “Hair loss is a common side effect of chemo patients but it’s important to note that not all experience it.”

Looking over at my dad, he gives me a sympathetic look. He holding it in, but I can see that he’s fighting back his tears.

“Can we start this week?”

“Dad!” I say in complete shock.  

In his eyes, I can see his determination, and knew he was going to do everything he could to learn about Leukemia, in order to help me. He never shows fear, and it is what I love most about him. It is also the reason I opted for him to come along with me instead of mom.

Unlike my father, my mom finds dramatics in everything. She shielded me from as much as she could be growing up, while my father allowed me to get dirty, learn why not to touch hot things, and allowed me to be tough. I am most like him. We shared the same music, taste in food, and a flare for adventure.

“We can’t tell mom.”

“Jo-,”

“Dad, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Mom’s not ready to hear this.”

I turn towards him and sighs heavily as he struggles with my words. I know what I’m asking him to do isn’t fair. But he knows her better than me. She would only worry.

Reaching for my hand, my father grabs it closes his warm hand around mine. “Josie, this is your life, and whatever you choose to do or not do, is up to you. But your mother needs to know.”

Dr. Smith clears his throat breaking the tension between us. “If I may, you have a long road ahead of you, and you will need all the support you can get, in whatever way it comes to you.

I nod my head knowing that they were both right. Nonetheless, my mind is racing and there is a heavy sinking feeling beginning to creep in my chest. That tough woman is nowhere to be found.  I need to process this. I need time to think. I need air.

Without thinking, I’m up on my feet and heading out of his office and down the hall way to the main elevators. My rapid heartbeat won’t steady until I’m out of this hospital and some place where I can think. I need to be alone, and so I push the button for the elevator and for the first time today, luck is on my side. Almost instantaneously, the elevator doors pull apart and I hop in. There is no hesitation. There is only out.  The seconds the elevators close, I hear my father call out my name. A sigh of relief washes over me as I make my way back to the main level.

I lean my back up against the wall unsuccessfully fighting the terrible thoughts creeping into my head. There are no guarantee’s the treatment will work. From what I know about chemo, it gets worse before it gets better. I may not even survive the treatment. What then? If in the end, it only made me sicker and weaker?

I force my eyes closed and count to ten. Breathe. Breathe. “Pull yourself together Josie.” I cry out wiping my eyes free of my falling tears. When the doors open again, I know exactly where I’m heading. I’m not even sure how the thought pops into my head. I just know that I want a drink, and Bucks is the closest place in town for me to do that.