Chance for hope

"You want me to do what?!" I exclaimed into the phone. I barely heard the request of my ex-managers/ ex-Boyfriend/ ex-best friend/ex-literally everything I don't have right now. "I am not doing that." I replied sternly. A sigh came from the other side of the phone.

"Liv, you didn't even listen to what I said," Carter replied.

"Yes I did," I protested.

"Really? What'd I say?" he questioned, his all-knowing tone already creeping out. He knew I wasn't listening to a single word that came out of his mouth. He spent 17 years with me, so of course he knows how I am. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Like a fish. A stupid fish. That still had feelings that would not go away for a stupid person that acted like a stupid crab. (Not really though. Carter is very handsome and very smart , It just makes me feel better to call him stupid and a crab.) I racked my brain for any hint of something he had said. Nothing.

"You said something about something that I do not want to do," I said, proud of myself for coming up with what seemed like a smart comeback. Take that you blasted bone-headed son of a bit-

"Its for young softball cancer patients, Liv. Girls who think they can't play because of their illness that they didn't ask for." My thought stopped abruptly. Cancer? I had already had my own brush with cancer. The disease thought it would be nice to take my sister away from me when she was only nine. Yeah, I knew cancer well. Too well and too much for my liking.

"Carter, I'm retired after 12 years because I'm broken and I can't play any more. What the fuck do you expect me to do?" I snapped. My heart was beating fast. Why, I don't know. Maybe cause, well, cancer and stupid heart problems. Carter sighed.

"You just need to coach the girls, Liv. Give them a chance at winning. Give them a sense of purpose and hope," he pleaded.

"And how the hell am I supposed to provide those kids with hope, Carter James? I lost mine 9 years ago." 9 years ago. The death of Abigail.

"I know, Olivia. But you can get it back. You can get it back and you can give it to others! Liv, just give it a chance." I hesitated. I had cancer. I still played, while I could. But I didn't have anyone to coach me. And look how hard you struggled, a little voice inside my head whispered. You didn't have anyone, but those girls could have someone. I scowled and huffed into the phone. 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll come out of retirement to throw myself into more pain. Just for you Carter James,” I replied, a tad more sharply than I intended. 

“You’re being serious, right,” he asked, ignoring my tone. “You’ll actually do it?” 

“Yeah. Now sign me up before I change my mind,” I snapped, secretly smiling to myself. 

“Done,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later, Liv,” and with a click, he hung up. 

3 weeks later. 

Tweeeet

“Alright, listen up ladies. You all came here to play softball, I came here to coach you to play softball,” I paused to peer at all of the wide and slightly fearful eyes staring up at me in awe and amazement. I softened my tone a bit. I was talking to pre-teen girls, not college players. “I know you all have your own problems when it comes to health. And that's okay! I have problems of my own, but I still played. College and professional. And with my help and encouragement, you can make it there as well. Or take whatever path you want to take with softball. You just need to believe in yourself.” Once I finished my empowerment speech, the girl now looked less afraid and more curious. One girl’s arm shot into the air like a cannon, her hand waving obnoxiously. I nodded towards her to speak. And speak she did. 

“Hi, I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abby. I am a huuuge fan of you and I’m sooo excited to have you as my coach!” She spoke fast and high, like a train engine. 

“I-uh, um thank you, Abby,” I say, averting my eyes to look at the rest of the team. “So um, why don’t you guys run the bases 3 times. Make sure to touch the bases!” Before I even finished my direction, they all took off. The first girl, Evelyn I think her name is, dropped down on her knees and touched first base with her hand. She looked up at me triumphantly, expecting praise for doing what she was told. 

“No, No, NO! With your feet, Evelyn! Touch the bases with your feet!” I screamed. Realization dawned on her face as she stood up and touched the side of the base lightly with her foot, and then looked back at me. 

“Yes! Now keep running!” And then she kept running, the rest of the girls following. One of them, I noticed, ran sideways, her friends having to pull her back in line. Another, tugged out a strand of hair, before throwing it over the fence as she ran by 3rd. Quite a few had short hair, some barely growing out of the scalp, some ear length, and very few others, shoulder length. Some of them looked perfectly normal, but I knew better than to think they were fine. My cancer was invisible. Mostly. Breast cancer. I’m a survivor. I’m sure most of these girls were survivors. At least I hope they are or will be soon. Behind me, the gate clanged. I looked behind me to see Carter stumbling in, hands full with my old high school team's softball equipment. Bats, helmets, gloves, balls, pitching machine, and lord knows what else. How he managed to carry it all was beyond me. He smiled brightly at, his eyes traveling up and down my body. I crossed my arms insecurity. I was wearing my ratty pair of softball pants and one of my old jerseys from High School. It may or may not have been a little bit snug, but now way in hell was I ruining my good jerseys. 

“Hey Livvie Boo. I haven’t seen you wear that uniform since high school,” he said, dropping the equipment outside of one of the dugouts. 

“Really? Maybe because it’s from high school,” I replied snarky. He chuckled, readjusting his baseball hat above his matted blond hair. 

“I know, Liv.” We stared at each other, smiling like stupid teenagers in love. Except we weren't! I swear! Not anymore, at least. 

“Well, this is going to be fun,” I turned to see Abby standing in front of me, her brown eyes wide and her arms on her hips. She was smiling widely as her eyes darted between me and Carter. I put my hands on my hips to match her stance

“And what exactly is going to be fun, Missy?” I asked playfully. She smiled even wider. 

“Finally having a chance.”