Hummingbird

Wes Price sat in the back of the room for day one of college orientation, wishing he was still at Leonard Park with Gina.

Sighing, he pulled out his wallet, taking out her picture.

The long-haired blonde beside him, smelling of patchouli, glanced at the photo.

“Girlfriend?”

“She was.”

“She’s pretty, but I bet you’ll meet someone here who’ll make you forget all about her.”

“I doubt it,” Wes replied solemnly.

“My name’s Arianna Pennington. I’m studying Journalism.”

“Me too. I’m Weston Price, but my friends call me Wes. I’m also here on a baseball scholarship.”

Arianna’s smile brightened. “Really, Wes? Maybe I’ll come to one of your games.”

Wes slipped Gina’s picture back into his wallet.

Regina (“Gina”) Maria Francesca Gabriella DiSimone was Vito and Lucia DiSimone’s only girl, so they doted on her. Her older brother, Vito Jr., was a bear of a boy, a grumbling, hairy brute who fractured the English language the same way he fractured bones – hard and often. Younger brother Tony was a gentle, always smiling diplomat.

In the two years that he coached his sons’ team, Vito Sr., who was miserly with his compliments, called Wes the best young baseball player he’d ever seen. Better still, he never batted an eye when a starstruck Gina began following Wes around.

Gina was the type of girl who turned heads. She had a mane of curly waist-length dark hair, smoldering brown eyes, and the type of welcoming, hassle-free personality boys liked.

Gina’s best friend was the very outgoing June Hunter, who, despite having been born in New York, pronounced her last name “Hun-tah” like a long-lost Kennedy. June was the captain of the girls' swim team. Broad-shouldered, she had a shapely figure and muscular legs that could crack a walnut. Gina’s other close friend was Betsy Wemus. Wispy-thin Betsy wore her hair in a page boy cut and seldom spoke but was adorably cute.

Among the other girls on the swim team were the Pankow sisters, Katia, Mandy, and Alicia. They were close to Wes, particularly seventeen-year-old Mandy, whose verbal assaults rivaled Don Rickles's insults. Insular and suspicious, the Pankows were jealous of how easily boys gravitated to June, Betsy, and Gina.

Most of the girls on the swim team were dating or related to the boys playing Pony League Baseball. They could often be found sitting on the hill overlooking the field, hollering, clapping, and critiquing the players.

Wes had turned eighteen in May, meaning it was his last year in the league. His plan for the summer was to be an All-Star on the baseball field and a superstar off the field with Mandy.  

That changed when he met June, Betsy, and Gina after a game.

“Nice performance. Right girls?” June commented.

Betsy offered him a blinding smile, shaking her head like a rattle.

“Like Willie Mays. Even better,” Gina said. “That catch you made in the last inning was like the one you made against Vito three years ago.”

Wes looked at Gina with surprise.

“Three years?”

“You forget, we’ve been watching you play since you were in Little League.”

“That’s like eight years.”

“More like ten,” June replied.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out.”

June playfully shook her fist at Wes. “Do you want to be flattered or flattened?”

“When’s the next swim meet?” Wes asked.

“It's the day after tomorrow, and you’d better be there. And tomorrow night is movie night. Are you coming?”

“They’re playing your favorite movie, ‘The Wizard of Oz,’” Gina added.

Betsy jabbed Gina in the side, indicating she’d said too much.

“…How do you know it’s my favorite movie?…”

June cut him off. She grabbed him by the arm, squeezing it in her vise-like grip. “You don’t want to disappoint us, do you? Come see the movie. We’ll bring the snacks.”

Wes spotted the trio of girls camped out on a blanket in the middle of the field.

As he sat down next to Gina, June and Betsy stood up.

“Sorry, but we’ve got to go,” June announced. “We’re picking up Betsy’s brother at the airport.”

Betsy grinned like a guilty jack-o-lantern.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” June continued. “And keep things G-rated.”

That was the night Wes discovered that Gina was beautiful and exciting in more ways than he could hope for, especially regarding her career choice.

“You want to be a bird watcher?” Wes asked. “People will pay you for that? Sign me up.”

“No, silly. I want to be an ornithologist. That’s like a veterinarian who specializes in healing birds. Birds have a sense of freedom. They can travel the world and go places we can’t. They keep the earth in balance. Birds pollinate plants and eat those nasty bugs that annoy us. And they speak to me.”

Despite her iridescent smile, Gina didn’t appear to be joking.

“You understand what they’re saying?”

“It’s a fact that birds remember human faces and our voices, especially if you feed them regularly.”

“That works with me, too.”

Gina giggled softly. “If a person holds out some food and says, “Treat,” a bird may associate the word with food and trust them. You see it all the time with pigeons. Birds can also read certain facial expressions. They might cower or fly away if a person looks angry.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Gina said, taking a piece of bread from the picnic basket.

Wes followed Gina to a bench. Within seconds, three robins landed nearby.

Gina put a piece of bread on the bench.

Whistling, she said, “Treat.”

One of the robins hopped on the bench, pecking at the bread. The others followed.

The birds flew off after devouring the bread.

“Want to see something else interesting?” Gina asked.

“I’m already impressed.”

Gina began to whistle.

“I don’t recognize the song,” Wes joked. “Is it jazz? The tune is kind of all over the place.”

A cardinal zipped past Wes, landing on the bench next to Gina.

Gina whistled at the cardinal. The bird whistled back.

Wes’ jaw dropped as he watched Gina and the cardinal sing to each other.

“You speak cardinal?”

“And robin, crow, and blue jay. I don’t speak wild turkey. They’re kind of dumb anyway and can only fly short distances.”

“But they are delicious,” Wes said.

Gina scrunched up her nose. “I’m learning to communicate with hummingbirds. It's hard because they’re so nervous. I’m hoping to be reincarnated as a hummingbird. They’re so sweet.”

“You know, Gina, you’re absolutely bat crap crazy.”

“That’s probably why we get along so well.”

If there was one stumbling block in Wes and Gina’s budding relationship, it came in the person of seventeen-year-old Marty McGovern.

Wes and Marty lived in a virtual dead heat. Both boys were dark-haired, handsome, and similar in height and build—so much so that the quickest way to earn their ire was to say they looked like twins. Whenever Wes hit two home runs in a game, Marty did, too. When Marty set a record for the fifty-yard dash, Wes tied him running in the next heat.

One night in a bar, they got into their typical “Anything you can do, I can do better” argument. They literally wound up at each other’s throats, trying to choke one another to death. At first, everyone in the bar laughed, saying, “There they go again.” Their friends realized it was time to pull them apart when their faces turned as red as plum tomatoes.

They saw each other the following day.

“Is your neck sore?” Wes asked.

“Yeah. I can’t turn my head.”

“Let’s not do that again, okay?” Wes suggested.

“For once, I agree.”

Wes bested Marty when he was unanimously selected as the top All-Star in the league for the third year in a row. That meant a hundred and fifty kids, including Marty, voted for him as the best player in the league. Marty was in the front row of the crowd, clapping vigorously and whistling, when Wes received his plaque and had his picture taken with the Mayor.

“Why’d you clap for me?” Wes asked Marty.

“Because I know that’s the last plaque you’ll get.”

It didn’t surprise anyone that Wes and Marty chased after the same girl.

Their competition reached its apex when the boys' teams played each other. Wes sat with Gina when Marty’s team was in the field, and Marty did the same when Wes was in center field.

Gina was amused by the attention she was getting. “I must admit, this tag team admiration is really boosting my self-esteem.”

When Wes came to bat, he was greeted by the opposing catcher, Malachi Morrison, who was renowned for razzing the opposition.

“I see you and Marty are chasin’ after Gina.”

“What? How’d you figure that out?”

“C’mon, everybody in the tri-state area knows about it. Even Ray Charles can see you're crazy about her. Your date on movie night went well, didn’t it? She’s been out with Marty too, but my money’s on you.”

“You’re betting against your teammate?”

“Everybody likes you. Marty, not so much. He brags about bein’ rich, ignorin’ that his daddy’s a slum lord. I’m gonna give you a gift. The first pitch is gonna be a fastball.”

Wes walloped a home run, then ran to join a jubilant Gina for a hug.

Malachi continued to signal for a fastball the next two times Wes batted. Wes hit two triples.

As Wes stepped to the plate for a fourth time, he whispered to Malachi, “I owe you.”

“I only accept cash. And sorry, this time you’re gonna have to earn your at-bat. My pitcher doesn’t like Marty either, but he’s got a reputation to uphold.”

Wes hit his second home run, winking at Ralph as he crossed home plate.

Marty stepped to the plate in the last inning with the bases loaded. He’d already hit two doubles. A third would win the game; an out would leave his team one run short.

He hit the ball deep to centerfield, smiling and pumping his fist when he realized it was over Wes’ head.

Wes’ legs seemed to hit another gear as he dashed back. He stretched his arm out, catching the ball in the top of the webbing of his glove.

After the game, Wes and Marty met at Gina like two heat-seeking missiles hitting their targets.

“Better luck next time,” Wes said to a still fuming Marty.

Marty grabbed Gina by the arm. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. We can go sailing on my parent’s boat.”

Gina turned to Wes.

“All I can offer is ice cream and conversation at Friendly’s.”

Gina pulled her arm free. “Like Wes said, Marty, better luck next time.”

Unlike Marty McGovern, Laura Callahan supported Wes and Gina’s relationship. Laura worked at the local Friendly’s Restaurant, a haven for baseball players and swimmers.

Laura was heading into her senior year in college. Wes liked her because she looked after him and was a dead ringer for “Ode to Billie Joe” singer Bobbie Gentry. Laura was the one who pulled Wes aside when he was hanging out with would-be tough guy Finocchio “Feet” Frangipane, telling him Feet was headed down the wrong road. Two days later, Feet was busted for breaking and entering.

Laura’s life experiences proved invaluable in guiding Wes through his wrong-headed, libido-driven relationships. One afternoon, Wes came in with Colleen Sain, a voluptuous misanthrope who took great pleasure in other people’s misery. Laura pointed out to Wes that when Colleen ran out of targets, she’d turn on him.

When Wes brought Mandy Pankow to Friendly’s, Laura waited until Mandy had trotted off to the girl’s room to speak her peace.

“Are you a masochist? You’re going out with her?”

“Not officially. But we’re heading in that direction.”

“Then it’s still time to make a U-turn.”

“What do you mean, Laura? Are you jealous?”

“You know I’m flattered, but you keep forgetting the difference in our ages.”

“I’ll change my birth date.”

“Okay, there’s a difference in maturity, too. We’re friends, or like brother and sister, get it? You made a mistake with Colleen Sain because she was pretty on the outside and a wretch on the inside. You’re making the same mistake again with Mandy Pankow by going for looks over personality. She’s abusive, like Colleen. Do you really want to date a girl who enjoys hurting your feelings?”

“She’s just playing around.”

“Yeah, like Hitler played with Poland. Let me guess. I bet she doesn’t want you hanging out with anyone else, especially other girls, when you're with her.”

Wes stopped to think, his self-satisfied grin fading.

“She’s also coaxed you into buying her lots of gifts, hasn’t she?”

“…But she has a nice figure…,” Wes mumbled.

“There’s that lack of maturity thing I was talking about.”

When Wes walked into Friendly’s a few weeks later with Gina, Laura clasped her hands together as if praising their union, saying, “I think my little brother is finally growing up.”

Late in the baseball season, Wes inexplicably stopped hitting.

Gina was in the stands offering encouragement, the myna bird she’d brought along drawing attention from the other spectators.

“I haven’t had a hit in two games,” Wes said to Gina. “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

“…You’re looping your swing… Level swing… Level swing…”

“What did you say, Gina?”

Gina pointed at the myna bird’s cage.

“I’m not listening to a bird brain.”

“He’s got eyes and, apparently, some knowledge of the game,” Gina offered.

“If he was a Baltimore Oriole, I might believe him.”

“…Or a Saint Louis Cardinal…” the bird squawked. “Or maybe a Toronto Blue Jay.”

Wes stepped to the plate with the score tied in the last inning.

Wes glanced at Gina, who gave him a thumbs up.

The myna bird’s voice cut through the moment’s tension.

“…Level swing…”

Wes followed the bird’s advice. He stood at home plate for a moment, admiring the flight of the ball as his home run sailed over the fence.

An hour later, Wes was cheering for Gina at her swim meet.

He felt Mandy’s malevolent stare bore in on him when he gave Gina a good luck kiss.

“I’ve never won the backstroke,” Gina said. “Mandy’s stronger, so she always wins. I guess it’s not so bad. It’s like keeping it in the family.”

“You’re going to win tonight,” Wes said, kissing her again.

Gina drew even with Mandy midway through the competition. Wes nearly screamed himself hoarse, yelling for Gina. She pulled away from the other swimmers, finishing far ahead of Mandy.

Mandy stayed in the pool, angrily slapping at the water as Gina ran into Wes’ arms.

“I heard you! That’s when I knew I could win.”

When Wes sat Gina down on their favorite bench in the park, she held her breath, knowing what was coming.

A robin landed at Gina’s feet. Gina whistled at it. The bird sang back.

“Does your friend have any news?”

“The usual robin gossip, which early bird got the worm, which one’s having chicks.”

“You’re joking, right?”

He reached out, holding her hand.

“Summer’s almost over…”

“Which college are you going to?” she asked.

“Roger Williams in Rhode Island.”

“That’s three and a half hours away,” Gina replied.

“We can still be together.”

“Ha. Have you seen the movie Animal House?”

“College isn’t really like that, Gina.”

“It had better not be, or I’ll be going to your funeral before your graduation. Oh, what am I saying? I won’t be going to either one. It’s over, isn’t it, Wes.”

“Not if we don’t want it to be. I can come back home on weekends or at least a few times every month.”

Gina’s hopeful expression went slack.

“There’s something you should know. I got accepted into the ornithologist program at Hobart College in Virginia.”

“I thought you were staying here?”

“And do what? Work at Friendly’s? I have dreams like everyone else, but I can’t make them happen here. I can graduate early if I go to school during the summer. I can also work as an apprentice while attending school.”

“Will you be coming home at all?”

“No… Dad’s already making plans to bring the family to Virginia for Christmas,” Gina replied.

They looked into each other’s eyes, speechless, until Gina said, “I’ll always love you.”

“But you love birds more,” Wes said solemnly.

“And I’ll always have to take a backseat to baseball.”

Gina hugged him, kissing him tenderly.

“Think about me when you hear a bird sing,” Gina said. “And look for a hummingbird. That’ll be me saying hello.”

Wes and Gina talked twice a week and wrote to each other. But after two months, all Wes got was her answering machine, so he called the DiSimones. Her brother Tony sighed when he recognized Wes’ voice.

“Did Gina suddenly decide to cut me out of her life?”

“No, worse…She died. She and a co-worker were heading to a bird sanctuary when something hit the windshield. The driver lost control of the car… It rolled over…I’m sorry, Wes. I thought you knew. The police said a wild turkey hit the windshield… I didn’t even know the blasted things could fly.”

Twenty years later, Wes sits on his patio watching his two young boys throwing a baseball. He sips his iced tea, thinking wistfully about his days as an All-Star centerfielder.

Something catches his eye, fluttering into view.

Wes laughs to himself.

“…A hummingbird…”

He holds out his finger. The hummingbird briefly rests on his finger, tilting its head.

Wes’ wife, Arianna, steps out of the house and onto the patio, her mouth agog when she sees the bird sitting peacefully on his finger.

The bird seems to hum at him, then takes off, rapidly flapping its wings.

“What was that all about?” Arianna asks.

“Just an old friend saying hello.”