15. Chapter 14
Austin - The Present
The ping of a metal bat hitting a baseball rings through the batting cage set up in the backyard of my Dad’s house.
Yeah, I know I said I needed a break from him.
But in an effort to avoid anymore run-ins with Becca, I’ve given in to Dad’s requests to spend more time with him.
And it’s actually been kind of nice. Dad bought the best pitching machine and batting cage he could find.
I think in some ways he’s trying to make up for the years he ignored me when Virginia was in his life.
I pin my focus on the pitching machine, but I can’t focus, and my bat slices through the empty air with a whistling sound. The muscles in my shoulder bunch and tense under the frustration that comes from swinging and missing.
Some days, swinging the bat helps clear my mind, and other times, each swing seems like it’s spinning in a screw. A screw that sinks me deeper into thoughts of Raegan and thoughts of guilt.
“It’s my fault. All my fault. I should’ve been stronger.
I should’ve been the one to stop us.” I know I didn’t force her into anything.
But… I enjoyed it. And a part of me wanted to say it was okay.
That’s the old man coming out, right? I know sex is for marriage.
But I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, so until I came to Christ…
I thought sex before marriage was what everyone did.
I just didn’t participate because baseball was better, and I didn’t have a girl.
“Is this my punishment? I got drafted so I couldn’t have sex again?
” Did God take Raegan away from me so I wouldn’t drag her further from Him because He knew I would want to do it again?
And it’s not that I want to just go and have sex with just anyone.
I want it with Raegan. I don’t want anyone else.
I’m tempted to whack my head with the bat. Maybe it’ll knock some sense in. Make me not want her again. Man, when Paul talked about doing the things he didn’t want to do and not doing the things that he should’ve been doing… I had no clue that I would ever feel that way.
“I gave my life to you, God. What am I doing wrong?” I trusted in Him to be my Savior. Believed that He would make me a new man. So, why am I struggling like this? Why do I want her that way?
The weight of guilt and shame weighs on my chest, like I’m wearing three pairs of catcher’s chest protectors.
I want God to take it off me, but there’s a deep chasm between me and Him, and I don’t know how to cross it.
I settle into my stance and press the button for the pitching machine to start again.
I watch the ball go by, my mind too busy to pay attention.
With my mind focused on Raegan, I forget to press the stop button and the next ball comes out of the machine with a popping sound and then thunks me in my right shoulder.
I curse under my breath and mash the button to stop the pitching machine.
Right after I got saved I was on a high.
I took everything to God. I was attracted to Raegan from the start, and had the struggle with my thoughts that Coach told me nearly every guy dealt with.
When I had taken those feelings, thoughts, and desires to God; He had answered in a huge way.
And now… I feel like I’m unworthy of coming before Him. Of asking anything of Him.
Had that one mistake taken it all away? No, Coach said that no one could take us from God’s hand… But what if that’s not true? “No one, nothing can take me from Your hand… Right, God?” And if you can be taken from God’s hand, can you get back into it? And can this cycle be repeated over and over?
The bat bounces a few times as it falls from my hand. I rip the helmet from my head and throw it on the ground beside the bat. Pain shoots up my jaw as I grind my teeth.
“Ahhhhhh!” My yell bounces off the fences surrounding the backyard as the toe of my shoe connects with the bat, sending it flying against the netting.
“Y’all right there?”
The muscles in my back tense. I don’t recognize this voice.
I glance at the fence, expecting to see the top of an older guy's eyes peeking over, like the neighbor from Home Improvement .
No one stands at the fence directly behind the batting cage.
My dark curls hit my forehead in a sweaty mess as I turn and check the other two fences. No one. Strange.
With a sigh, I fall to the turf, my head dropping into my hands. The cool grass under my knees grounds me, helping to shift my mind away from Raegan, just for a minute.
“You’re George’s son, Austin, right?”
This time I'm able to pinpoint the location of the voice. Behind me, closer to Dad’s house. A groan escapes my parched lips as I stand up, twisting my back to get some of the kinks out.
“I am. And who are you?” I lock my eyes on the man, trying to intimidate him.
There are wrinkles around his eyes, a long beard covering part of his shirt, and salt and pepper hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail.
Is the guy trespassing, or some sort of maintenance guy?
A sense of unease fills me, causing my heart rate to increase.
I clench, then unclench my fists; grabbing my bat, prepared to defend myself.
“No need to get your hackles up. I’m Dave.” The man pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, then raises his hands in a show of surrender.
This is Dave? The guy who’d introduced Dad to God?
He and my dad are polar opposites. Dad is a high end executive, he lives in suits and button downs.
This man is wearing a worn t-shirt and jeans.
He reminds me of the type of guy I’d run into in Clear Creek, not this ritzy suburb of Atlanta where Dad lives.
But his easy going and aloof manner reminds me of Pastor Thompson, Chrissy’s Dad.
Using my free hand, I scoop up the helmet. Then, I push back the netting with the bat. Slowly, I cross the lawn. Taking more time to study this Dave guy. I’m guessing he’s close in age to my dad, mid fifties, but Dave’s face is more weathered, like he’s seen more of life.
Before stepping onto the patio I kick the dirt off my cleats, then plop down on the stone paver steps.
“So, you’re Dave.” I say while I untie and remove one cleat.
“How did you meet my dad?” Dave drops down to sit next to me, and the age on his face becomes more apparent; the laugh lines around his eyes, and a warmth and kindness I’ve come to associate with people who love God.
Dave laughs. “We met at a bar.” He rubs his hands on his pants, looking off into the distance. “We were both searching for something.” His voice catches and a tear slides to the corner of his eye.
Situating my elbows on my knees I wait, not asking or begging him to respond. The search for something is relatable. I’m still searching. Searching for God again, in a way. Wondering if there is hope. Hope for me and God. Hope for me and Raegan. “What were you searching for?” I finally ask.
“I’d walked away from God. For a while I thought that alcohol could fill that spot in my heart,” Dave says in a near whisper.
He shakes his head as another tear appears.
“I wasted a lot of years in my search. Filling my heart with worthless things. Hurting those who loved me. Thinking I could ignore God, put Him off and come back once things were better.” His brows knit as his mouth twists in a half grimace, half smile.
Maybe I’ve been doing the same thing. Trying to do it my own way? Thinking I’m better than, or at least know better, than God. Was I even supposed to date Raegan? Was I supposed to accept the contract the Bottle Caps offered me? I wish I knew the answers. I wish I could read God’s mind.
“I had plans to find my happiness, get comfortable, and then I’d make time for God.” He closes his eyes for a minute, then chuckles. “That happiness never lasted. The alcohol didn’t last, the drugs, the women. None of it ever lasted. Then I’d have to go looking for more happiness all over again.”
The sliding door opens behind us. Dave and I turn. “Hey, Dad.”
“I see you met Dave.” Dad smiles and something like a contented sigh seems to leave his lips. “Why don’t y’all come sit at the table? I can bring out sodas or water, and some snacks.”
Once we’re all situated at the table Dave and Dad continue the story–about how they both decided to “give religion a go,” again, in Dave’s case, and see if that would satisfy the ache and give them the happiness they both sought.
As they talk, I just sit and take it all in. Somehow God took two very different men, and pulled them back to Him. If God can make such a drastic change in my dad, He can definitely do something for Raegan and me, right?
“I grew up in the church.” Dave rubs his chin, as he leans back in his patio chair. “I went to seminary. Pastored a church for a few years. Married a wonderful woman. Finally after eight years God gave us a little girl. And then—” Tears fill his eyes.
I don’t have to guess at what comes next. I don’t say anything, but the words are perched there, on the edge of my tongue. God took her from you.
Dave twists his mouth from side to side. His neck bobs with a swallow. “God called her back to Him.”
I kind of want to cry, too. But I don’t, because I don’t want to look weak. Dad’s eyes have tears in them as well. If God is so good, why does He take things from His people? Why can’t people get to hold their loved ones forever?