Page 20 of Under the Influence

After dinner, Trey and I sit out on the patio watching the last of a Cubs game.

“They are looking pretty good. I hope they keep it up in the postseason.”

“Yeah,” I agree, wishing my dad was on the field. I’d do anything to give that to him. He played in the majors until he had a pretty severe elbow injury. Unfortunately, it was his throwing arm, and he rehabbed it until he couldn’t anymore. It never went back to one hundred percent, and neither did he. Mentally, I mean.

It was his dream, and it was taken away in an instant. Life was pretty dark for him for a while. He hated everything baseball-related, and what I grew up learning to love was avoided.

It wasn’t until a couple years ago, when he took a coaching job at the college level, that he managed to pull himself out of the baseball rut. Now, he is helping kids fulfill their dreams. A lot of high school prospects call him the wizard. He’s sent a few players into the draft, all of them finding homes with ball clubs.

“Have you talked to your parents?” Uncle Trey asks, handing me a water bottle from the fridge under the minibar.

“Yeah, mom called me after my first day of school.”

“Any news?”

I don’t feel like getting into this right now, “No.”

He stands, lifting the plate of leftover food off the table to take inside, “It’s gonna be alright. They are all going to jail⁠—”

“Uncle Trey, I’m sorry, but I just… I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”

He nods, walking inside, making sure to close the sliding glass door behind him. The bugs are awful here, this close to the water.

I continue to watch the game until it’s over, the Cubs winning by two runs. It’s Saturday night, and the house is starting to clear out again, with everyone going to do their own thing. I walk down to the floating dock and palm my phone. I’ve been here for weeks and haven’t heard anything from Benson.

My friend since kindergarten—my confidant—my dance partner.

I unlock the screen, hitting the FaceTime button. It takes a second, but his face fills the screen. He must be staying in tonight because he’s in slouchy clothes and glasses.

“Hey, Cori. How’s your new life?”

I groan, “Same life, new town. It’s alright, just settling in, really. Sorry I haven’t called you back. How’s Brooks?”

He grins, “Not the same without you.”

“Oh, you mean without the whispers and the stares?”

He looks down, then back at me. The familiarity is warm and inviting, and I know he misses Aspen too.

“The cops have been sniffing around here for a couple of days. Know anything about that?” He urges.

I sigh, “My dad. The cops are looking for the video.”

Benson stills, adjusting his phone. “Your dad is looking for a video that you know he isn’t going to find?”

“Is Zander there?” I change the subject, “At school, I mean.”

He raises a brow, “You know he is. Playing the victim just like his brother told him to.”

“This is all my fault.”

His eyes pierce into the screen, “It’s not, Cori. It wasn’t.”

I wipe a tear, thinking about what happened.

“Don’t cry, Cor. Let’s dance instead.”

I laugh at him. He’s always trying to make me feel better, even when I don’t deserve it. “I don’t feel like dancing.”