Where the Grass Grows Back

The weather was pleasant on a regular Friday in Georgia. The rain had just passed and Briar High was filled with high school students eager to get out of class and feel the sun on their faces. Classroom windows were lined with kids watching the wind blow leaves around the yard, filled with anticipation. Ben Miller, however, sat alone at his desk staring daggers into the poster hung on the wall across from him.

The poster read: Another win for the Briar Bruins! It had him in a trance, causing unwanted memories to invade his mind–a baseball field, a woman in a blue sundress and sun hat. His knee bounced up and down, moving at the pace of his mind, when the sound of the bell brought him back to reality.

As his classmates raced out of the room, he gathered his things, slowly following after. He walked out of the school, squinting as the sun hit his face, and began making his way to a green hill nearby. As he walked, he felt a buzz in his pocket and slipped out his phone. A message from Mel read:

Today • 3:20 p.m.

Where are you? You didn’t come by.

Melanie Alvarez was Ben’s best friend. She was the first person to approach him six years ago, when he moved to Georgia with his dad and sister. He hadn’t liked much about Georgia until he met Melanie. He had been all alone at the time, and her friendship felt like a light in the dark. Today, however, he had purposefully passed her locker, opting to walk alone. He wasn’t sure he could talk to anyone right now.

When he finally reached the hill, he took a seat on the damp grass and began staring at the baseball field in the distance. He watched intently as, at exactly 3:30 p.m., the Briar Bruins stepped onto the field and began their practice.

Melanie was in a testy mood. She was fighting a headache, and her best friend had vanished into thin air. She sighed heavily as she yanked her bag out of her locker and began making her way out the school. She checked her phone and noted the time. She frowned to herself and began walking to the place she knew Ben would be.

Ben watched as the boys on the field laughed, their cleats coated in orange dirt. In the distance, Melanie spotted him. She grumbled to herself and made her way over.

“It’s nice and quiet out here,” she said as she took a seat next to him. The grass was still wet from that morning, and she could feel the droplets of water seeping through her favorite pair of jeans.

Ben tried his best not to sigh at her inevitable arrival. “Yeah..” he replied quietly, pulling out bunches of grass with his hand.

Melanie stared at him and caught his eyes as they lingered on the baseball field across the hill. The team was in the middle of practice. She watched as Ben’s eyes followed the ball being thrown between two players and felt a pang at the subtle glossiness of them.

“It’s never too late to join,” she said hesitantly.

He didn’t move. “I don’t wanna join,” he responded softly.

She smiled to herself, withholding a scoff, “Sure you don’t. Just here to admire the grass on the field, huh?”

He turned his head slightly to glare at her, though it held no real malice. “You know I can’t join…” he sighed.

“Why not?” she interjected. She already knew the answer but felt he needed to hear it.

“Mel,” Ben said, giving her a pointed look.

Melanie returned it. “Sitting here and staring isn’t going to change anything. And I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t wanna do, but I’m not so sure I believe that.”

He stayed quiet.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t miss playing,” she said.

Ben looked down at his hands, tracing the lines of his grass-stained fingers. “I can’t,” he whispered. “It hurts too much.”

Melanie listened.

“I’ve been having this dream lately,” he continued. “I can see her in the stands cheering my name as loud as her soft voice could manage, wearing her blue sundress and her sun hat.” A hint of a smile touched his lips but it slowly faded. “Then all of a sudden, there's an IV in her wrist, and I can hear her slow breaths filling that cold, quiet hospital room.”

Melanie stared at him.

“Playing feels wrong,” he said. “It feels like I’m mocking her, like I’m stealing something she loved. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”

She looked at his trembling hands and chose her next words carefully. “And what about you?”

He blinked, confused. “What about me?”

Melanie rubbed her Converse into the muddy ground. “What do you want?”

Ben sat still. What did he want?

He could feel the warm summer breeze brushing the tips of his wispy bangs against his forehead, now beaded with sweat from the Georgia sun. He wanted things to go back to the way they were–before he moved here and spent years alone, before his dad drowned his griefs in liquor, before setting foot in hospitals made his skin crawl and baseball broke his heart.

He wanted to see his mother again. To talk to her one more time. To feel her delicate hands caress his head.

Melanie noticed the shift in his demeanor. His hands were now furiously pulling at the grass on the field. She reached out and gently stilled his hand, pulling it away from the now bare patch of grass.

“I–” The words died on his tongue as he held back a choking sound.

“I know,” she said gently before speaking again. “But I think she would’ve wanted you to keep playing, for you to find joy in something you both loved. Not to move on–but to accept.”

Ben's eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke through a scratchy voice. “I don’t wanna forget her.”

Melanie squeezed his hand. “And you won’t. You’ll remember her for what she loved and who she loved.”

As the breeze dried Ben’s tears and carried the ball being thrown between the two boys on the field, he took a deep breath. He watched the ball’s back-and-forth, when suddenly it came flying towards the spot where Ben and Melanie sat.

“Oh shoot, heads!” a boy yelled from the field.

They both jumped back as the baseball landed between Ben’s feet.

“Think you could throw that over?” The boy called.

Ben stood frozen, staring at the ball on the ground. His palms grew clammy, and his breath caught in his throat. How could something so small–a mere sports ball–hurt so strongly?

His breath hitched as he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder. He looked behind him to see Melanie’s hand gripping him lightly. She didn’t say anything. She simply nodded. They held eyes for what felt like an eternity, before Ben took a shaky breath and bent down.

Picking up the baseball in his hands, he could feel the red stitches press into his fingertips like seams he never truly healed. He tightened his grip along the pill and looked ahead. He wound up his arm and gave Melanie one last look.

Then he let go of the ball.

The ball flew through the air like a jet in flight. It arched in the sky, and the boy on the field caught it in his glove cleanly.

“Jesus! Hell of an arm you’ve got!” he yelled from the field. “You play?”

Ben turned and looked at Melanie, who simply nodded at him once more.

He spoke in a soft voice that was loud enough to travel, “Y-yeah.”

The boy grinned, “Why don’t you come down here and toss around with us for a bit?”

Ben’s heart stuttered and his chest ached. He could have sworn he felt fear or pain, but his legs were moving before his mind could tell them no.

He began to make his way down the field, but paused before he got to the cage, turning to look back.

“Mel.”

She looked up at him intently.

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “Whatever, just get outta here.”

He gave her a toothy smile–a rare sight–and walked onto the field.

Melanie sighed and continued to smile to herself as she began her descent down the hill. He’s gonna be okay, she thought.

As Ben stepped onto the field, his nose was taken over by the smell of infield mix. The grittiness of the ground against the soles of his shoes felt as though it were scraping his heart.

The boy smiled at him and threw the ball his way exclaiming, “Catch!”

Ben caught the ball firmly. For a moment it felt just like old times.

He looked up at the rest of the players–the golden sun setting behind them reminding him of his mothers honey-colored hair.

He took a deep breath, “So, you guys looking for new players?”

The end.