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Jillian was hers. Forever. The thought wrapped around her like a warm blanket as she sank into sleep. ***** The light woke her up. It was practically blinding. Even as she tried to open her eyes to figure out what was going on, its intensity drove them back shut. That wasn’t enough to keep it out, though. It pounded straight through her eyelids, flashing strobes of red and blue and green in a dizzying, endless pattern. Sylvia flailed around in confusion for a moment, her mind utterly overwhelmed by the sudden transition from sleeping to waking, but she couldn’t figure out where the light was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere, all around her in a blinding profusion of color. Something about it seemed to draw her eyes, sending them moving underneath her eyelids to follow the patterns as they danced and swirled before her. Her hazy, sleep-muddled mind tried to process the situation. How long had she slept? When did she…she tried to blink the exhaustion away, but opening her eyes. And he was wearing a tight red thong under his baseball uniform.Taylor had been a little late getting to the ball diamond. People wererushing around trying to get everything ready. Taylor had taken a coupleof bats out of his equipment bag and was applying a little resin so hecould get a better grip. Owen Johnson, the star catcher of the team,threw a couple of bats toward Taylor and said, "Hey do mine while youare at it." Taylor's first reaction was to tell him to fuc, ah, dropdead. But he grabbed Owen's bat and started applying the stick'em."Great Taylor, do mine too." "Yeah, do mine." "Here." The next thing heknew had a big pile of bats from everyone on the team. Usually thenewest player had this task to do but, for some reason, Taylor justshrugged his shoulders and complied with their requests.As the home team, Taylor and his mates took the field for the top of theinning. It was pretty straightforward - three up, three down. Jerry,the pitcher, was throwing heat today. They trotted.
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‘Do you do both lawns?’ I asked. ‘Yes, but I skipped a week because the grass isn’t growing as fast this time of year. I have a small tractor so it doesn’t take long,’ he assured me. I hadn’t given the landscaping a thought. Something else suddenly occurred to me. ‘Did Mackey drive a car?’ ‘He had an accident about a year ago. I took them shopping and to medical appointments. The church people picked them up on Sundays and brought them home.’ ‘You’re a good neighbor, Charlie.’ ‘I try to be,’ he said, matter-of-factly. For the next two hours, I engrossed myself in the letters Mackey and Elsie had exchanged over sixty years ago. I learned that he returned to the States the end of April, and spent the summer of 1945 in a hospital. It was during the hospital stay that he figured out what he wanted to do. Indirectly, Elsie had helped make that decision. There were only three letters left to read when I got an urge to call home. I felt guilty for being separated from my family. I told.

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