“Maybe I’ll even get a shot at practicing my swing.” Mark wielded a pretend bat and hit an imaginary ball.
“You don’t have a swing,” grumbled Ralph. “You play ball like a five year old girl.”
Mark took offense and the brothers began scuffling in the backseat. Maybe I was supposed to tell them to knock it off but I wasn’t their mother. While the Encanto boys battled behind me I looked at Gus. He did not look back at me. He did not look at anything except a smear of insect guts on the windshield. Gus always wore the same expression whether he was tired or angry or indifferent. The track marks up and down his arms, the lack of teeth in his mouth, and the crinkled, sun damaged appearance of his skin told a bleak story. Rarely did he utter a noise more sophisticated than a grunt.
I rolled the dial on the radio and treated everyone to a Rolling Stones soundtrack whether they wanted it or not. The boys quieted down, Gus silently examined dead bugs, and ten minutes later I was setting the brake in the rear parking lot at Dream Fields.
Gus had leapt from the front seat before I came to a complete stop and was already removing tools from the flatbed trailer attacked to the pickup. The boys were slower to follow and I popped two sticks of cinnamon gum in my mouth before joining them.
“Where are we starting?” Mark asked. He brandished a set of hedge trimmers like a broadsword. His big brother ducked and glared. I fought a smile. My own brothers had been like this. They probably still were.
A hot wind blew and rattled the branches of the desert willows peppering the parking lot edge. The crew awaited my lead. All the instructions Viktor had given me disappeared from my brain. I scanned the view. “Uh, let’s deal with the perimeter and get that out of the way.”
Gus scowled. “Grass needs to get done first.”
Yes, he was right. I’d forgotten. Dream Fields ran a summer camp and in a few hours the grounds would be teeming with pint sized pitchers and catchers.
“Good point.” I turned to Gus with a smile. I would be a friendly supervisor. I would be brimming with positivity and charm. Even Gus would enjoy working with me. “Thank you, Gus.”
He did not reply. He marched out of the parking lot and through the shaded tunnel that led to the fields. The facility was cut into eight fields of play and they would all require attention. The administrative building was on the left and a structure resembling a long grey barn held the indoor batting cages straight ahead. Gus veered to the right in the direction of the equipment shed. He posted himself in front of the door while I fumbled with the key. The riding mowers locked inside were the property of the park. Gus wheeled out a mower and steered towards the nearest field. I yelped when he nearly ran over my left foot. The Encanto brothers were far more polite. Ralph asked if he should hop on the other mower and Mark volunteered to rake the grass debris in his wake. That left me free to grab a rake and trail after Gus. I suspected he would resent my company but that was just tough.
Viktor had warned me to wear a large brimmed hat to keep the sun off my face and so I’d purchased a floppy straw monstrosity at Target. It was wide and flimsy and would have looked better on an eighty-year-old woman tending her rose garden. It also wanted to slide off my head every ten seconds. Gus, meanwhile, had already achieved a semi-permanent lobster hue and yet he toiled beneath a steadily rising sun all stoic and bareheaded as you please. He ignored my presence as he methodically rode the mower back and forth in flawless straight lines.
The fields were fairly easy. All we needed to worry about was the grass. Dream Fields employed a two man maintenance staff to deal with more complex chores like chalking the baselines and flattening the dirt. I began dragging my rake across the lines Gus had made and wishing I’d brought the rest of my coffee along. The unique perfume of freshly mown grass tickled my nose and I tipped my head back in the middle of centerfield to breathe for a few seconds out of my mouth. The view of the baseball diamond jolted an old memory.
It had to be ten years ago and it was summer. In a rare family outing, my parents brought all three of us kids to see the Arizona Diamondbacks play in their enormous stadium. Our seats were in the outfield bleacher section and I was wedged between my younger brothers while we stuffed ourselves full of hot dogs and popcorn. A homerun ball came sailing our way and I caught it. Then voices began chanting ‘Throw it back!’ My brother Dennis poked me in the side. He said the opposing team had hit the ball and I was supposed to throw it back onto the field. That struck me as a dumb rule and I hesitated. My father, impatient and sometimes mean, snatched it out of my grip and fired it back into the grass. My mother was annoyed. ‘Geno!’ she shouted, but then just shook her head and left to find a bathroom. Jesse, my youngest brother, noticed that I blinked away tears and offered me the rest of his hot dog. He’d always been a sweet, sensitive kid. He cried the day I left home. But I was too obsessed with a vicious bully who was too old for me to let my little brother’s tears get in the way. Jesse’s tears haunted me now. But now it was far too late.
My fingers squeezed the rake handle and I swallowed hard. Jesse would be fifteen now and Dennis had turned eighteen last month. I still sent them cards for birthdays and holidays. I never received a response. Viktor used to assure me that someday things would be different but maybe even he didn’t think so anymore because he stopped making such promises.
Gus remained wordless as we progressed from field to field. After an hour Mark appeared to let me know he and Ralph were nearly finished.
“Just in time,” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “I saw a whole load of day campers arriving.”
“Thanks, Mark.” I nodded at him. “You guys finish the field and meet us over at the equipment shed.”
He grinned and galloped away.
“Hey!” I called to Gus. “We’ve got to hustle.”
I couldn’t be sure over the hum of the motor but I thought he muttered a curse.
The floppy hat had gotten on my last nerve by sliding off my head one too many times. I threw it down and sped up my raking efforts.
Gus turned the mower around and I stepped back so he could scoop up the small mounds of grass. Viktor had sworn that while Gus was unfriendly he wouldn’t make trouble. Viktor was usually right, but not always. As long as Gus did his job without being a menace I could handle him. A bead of sweat rolled down my back and I popped the top of the small water bottle I kept handy in a pouch around my waist. Phoenix summers always felt like a punishment. The monsoon rains were late and the high today was expected to reach a hundred and ten. After Dream Fields there would be a lunch break and then a small business park to deal with before I’d be free to escape to indoor air conditioning. I couldn’t guess why anyone would choose to play sports in such extreme heat but then again I would no sooner pick up a baseball than I would eat these grass clippings.
A flutter of movement at the field’s entrance caught my eye and I expected to see Mark or his brother. Instead, a group of kids and their coach poured onto the freshly mown grass.
The leader carried two sizeable bags full of equipment and laughed when one of the kids clamoring at his heels turned a cartwheel. I’d seen him before. Even to a girl who’d sworn off all non-fiction romance he inspired a second look. He was tall and muscled and looked like he’d stepped from a billboard advertising one of those pretentious name brands that charge ninety bucks for a polo shirt. People, both male and female, smiled and waved wherever he went.