The Light in the Wound by Christine Brae Page A

together, even if just a few minutes in the car.” I wasn’t going to give this up too easily. Jesse was being unreasonable.
    “No, Issy, please. I’m not going to discuss this. Let me take you to Bernard. I’ll call you as soon as I’m home from my meeting. It’s at Ryan’s house, not far from here.”
    “Can I come with you?” I persisted. I’d gone that far. How much further could I push?
    He shook his head but a smile on his face indicated that he just might give in.
    “Are you sure you want to take the bus with me?”
    “Anything and anywhere with you, Jess. It’ll be fun to take the bus with you. Bernard is under strict orders not to let me venture out on my own, but I’ll have him go ahead and meet us at Ryan’s.” This did not make sense at all logistically, but Jesse was going to get his way and there was no convincing him otherwise.
    “Perfect.”
    Minutes later as we boarded a public bus to take us over to Ryan’s house, Jesse stared at me, as I stood pressed between him and a stranger in an overcrowded bus. He protectively grabbed my wrist and covered it with his hand. “Issy, did you have to wear that watch today? Next time we take the bus together, you can’t be wearing any expensive jewelry, okay?” he whispered distractedly, but his eyes felt warm and he looked entertained by me. I nodded my head obediently as we rode the rest of the way in silence. My first ride on a public bus with the boy I was willing to give everything up for.
     

     
    Once during our freshman year, Jesse called and asked me to meet him on the baseball field late one evening after school. I automatically assumed that he wanted me to watch him practice, something I would often do when I didn’t have much homework to finish. As I walked across the newly shaved grass, I wondered where he could be. It worried me a bit to see no one there. The grounds were dark, except for a faded lamppost illuminating the walkways. The night was hot and humid, so I dressed in shorts for the occasion, fully expecting to be sitting on a bench watching Jesse play. He popped out of nowhere, just as I was about to walk up the steps toward the stands.
    “Hi,” I said, as I looked around the field. “Am I late? Did I get the practice time wrong?”
    “Nope,” he answered with a grin. “Practice ended an hour ago.”
    “Oh. Am I here to pick you up?” I asked, still confused.
    “I thought we’d play on the field for a bit,” he said, as he took my hand and led me further in toward the bases. He had his pitching glove on and carried a bat in his right hand.
    “Play what, Jess? You know I don’t know anything about this game!” I laughed incredulously.
    “Yes, you do! You’ve been watching me do this for almost three years! I thought it would be fun to watch you swing a bat,” he coaxed. “Come on, you’ll do great, I promise. Here, wear these so you don’t hurt your hands.”
    He fished into his pockets and handed me some batting gloves. I wiggled my fingers to make sure they were still in there. They were twice the size of my hand. He looked delighted and enamored with me all at the same time.
    “You look so cute. Come here,” he ordered as he pulled me in for a hug. Seconds later, he handed me the bat and then walked backwards until he was a few feet away from me.
    “This is heavy!” I said, as I lifted the bat and mockingly took on the stance — both knees bent, two hands on the bat.
    “Issy baby, you’re gonna fall over if you lean like that.” He laughed. “This isn’t tennis. Keep one foot in front of you and turn your body to face me. Now just relax and swing when I pitch, okay?”
    “Like this?” I breathed, as I stuck my leg out and swiveled my hips.
    “If you keep that up, we’ll be swinging something else,” he teased.
    Five empty swings later, I finally hit the ball. It didn’t go very far, but I whooped and he whooped and I ran twice around the bases. It didn’t take much effort for him to