another summer
He goes to Jason’s baseball game. It’s near central park. He played a game there once in high school. He’s late, of course, and can hear the bleacher-wide groaning. He takes a deep breath, puts his shades on and walks into the venue. Jason’s next in line to bat, looking nervous as hell, Whizzer tries to catch his eye but can’t from the level he’s at. He’s gotta go up onto the bleachers. He takes a few shaky steps up and instantly sees Charlotte (screeching at the ref) Cordelia (already waving at him) Trina (looking radiant, happier than he’s ever seen her) Mendel (yelling something about how jews can be good at baseball) and… Marvin. Marvin looks.... Different. Older? Older. Softer? Sort of. Less angry. There’s less of an edge to the way he holds himself, less aggression in his eyes. Looking at him makes Whizzer’s stomach turn somersaults. His heart rushes. He runs his hand through his hair, casual as all hell, reminds himself that Marvin’s deranged and walks over.
Trina looks a little shocked, but pecks him on the cheek nonetheless. Mendel claps him on the back. Char and Delia hug him. Marvin shakes his hand. It’s awkward. Fortunately Jason on deck now, so Whizzer can sit down next to Mendel, in front of Marvin, who makes some smartass comment about Whizzer’s hairline. Whizzer fires back with something about wrinkles. Marvin grins at him. Whizzer grins back. For a moment it’s like no time’s passed. Remember he’s nuts, Whizzer. He turns away again. Mimes how to hit the ball to Jason, who’s waving to him. Marvin asks for Whizzer’s number. Whizzer goes to say yes. Jason hits the ball. The bleacher erupts in cheers. Jason hit the ball! Whizzer turns away from Marvin and screams with triumph and pride. Everyone’s cheering and screaming. Jason’s forgotten to run. Whizzer couldn’t care less, and neither can anyone else. They run as a six down the bleacher but Whizzer gets her first. He picks Jason up and spins him around. Jason’s hugging back so tight Whizzer can barely breathe, but he still manages to laugh. They don’t need to say aloud that they’ve missed each other. They know each other too well to have to say it out loud. Marvin pats them both on the back and it’s just like nothing’s happened and it’s so freaking odd. But nice? But nice. They all go to the nearest diner post-game, to celebrate Jason’s ‘victory’. Everyone gets waffles, except for Whizzer who sips some diet soda and picks at the strawberries from Delia’s waffles. She gives him a pointed look which he brushes off. Whizzer keeps looking over at Marvin and keeps finding Marvin looking back at him with something indescribable in his eyes. Whatever that look is, it makes Whizzer giddy.
The look is there when Marvin walks Whizzer home that evening. He insists on it, even though it’s super out of the way. Whizzer pretends he minds. They talk as they walk. What’s Whizzer been up to? Photography. He doesn’t tell Marvin about therapy. What’s Marvin been up to? Therapy, he says. Whizzer tries not to gasp. Marvin, being honest about his feelings? About his issues? Geez. Marvin says he’s on meds. Whizzer tentatively tells him that he’s seen a shrink too. Marvin flashes him a surprised smile. They smile awkwardly at each other again and Whizzer feels like he’s twenty two and crushing on Marvin again. Is he crushing on Marvin again? Jesus Christ. He suddenly feels sick. He’s making the same mistake. Marvin’s going to hurt him. That’s what Marvin does. That’s what all Whizzer’s Men do. He feels so sick. It must show, because Marvin stops walking. Whizzer stops too. Faces Marvin. Marvin tucks a stray curl behind Whizzer’s ear and asks if he’s okay. Whizzer nods. He can’t speak. This is all so much. Marvin stutters a little, takes a deep breath and does something he’s never done before.
Marvin apologises.
He apologises profusely for every little thing. Every microaggression, every mutter of ‘bitch’, every snap, every whine, every outburst, every push into the role of homemaker, of mother, of girl. He says that what he did was wrong. He says that he wants to fix it, but that if Whizzer never wants to see him again then that’s okay, too. Whizzer feels like he’s dreaming. His tongue still feels frozen, but he manages to stammer out that he’d like to be friends, at least. Marvin nods with a small, genuine smile. Thanks Whizzer. Asks if Whizzer really wants Marvin to walk him home. Whizzer says yes. Of course he does. They walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence. When they get to Whizzer’s block Marvin goes to turn away, but Whizzer takes him gently by the hand to stop him. Grabs a felt tip pen from Marvin’s top pocket. Writes his number on Marvin’s hand and tells him to call, please. Marvin says he will. They both do an awkward shuffle-almost hug-nearly kiss-finally handshake, then both laugh at how dumb they can be. They say goodbye. Whizzer falls asleep that night with a smile on his face.