The Baseball Bat Sarah Inouye
From the very beginning Helen had made it clear to me how much she hated baseball. It was probably why our friendship started in the first place. I had an affinity for passionate people and she had an affinity for being a passionate person. She was either loved or hated. There was nothing moderate about her existence. To me it seemed easier to love her, not only because I knew she was unbreakable, callus and grittier than me but because that grit in her fight also translated to the grit in her love. Our friendship was enduring, dedicated. She cared about every single thing I said as long as I cared about what she said in return. She was stubborn in her own beliefs but was receptive to me. The ferocity of her love fostered the ferocity of mine. I adored the weakest parts of her, the tenderness, as much as I adored her protective strength. All who Helen loved, loved to be loved by her. Sometimes she would offhandedly say that she was having a good day and I would tease her by bringing up baseball. We had a fiery back and forth and I liked to egg her on. “It’s a piece of shit sport,” she would say, “it requires no physical exercise. It’s boring to watch. It’s pathetic. The worship of that idiotic goddamn American pastime just irks me,” and so on. Then she met her first boyfriend. A baseball player. His name was Jacob. It seemed like he treated Helen well, though she didn’t give me much insight into their relationship. He was a spectacularly average kid with creepy snake fingers, that seemed to have minds of their own, and a bizarre fascination with the thing that Helen found the most pathetic. I didn’t understand anything about their relationship but it went on throughout the summer until late in August. I supposed, like anyone in Helen’s life, he must have earned her trust and affections. I knew she would have never been loose handed with her love, especially when it came to a baseball player. Helen and I didn’t spend much time together that summer. I was busy and she was busy, life sweeping us up into its arms, throwing us through the glimmer and bustle of adolescence. She
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