Chapter Text
Esther was used to things being taken from her. When Esther was a kid, her mom swiped candy out of her hands before she could even get the wrappers open. She said something along the lines of you’ll understand when you’re older and young ladies need to maintain their figures and don’t be greedy, Esther.
On Esther’s tenth birthday, Esther’s dad gave her a baseball glove. Her face lit up with joy as she felt the glove slide over her hand for the first time. Somehow, it felt familiar.
Like home.
So of course, the neighborhood boys saw her with her baseball glove—they saw her happy—and they immediately went and took it away. They held it above her head, just outside of her reach, and laughed as she jumped and jumped, her fingers barely brushing the bottom of the glove. She jumped for what felt like hours. It didn’t matter how much she tried, they wouldn’t give it back.
Girls don’t play baseball , they said. But it only made Esther want to play it more.
Girls will play baseball, she thought to herself. They can try to take it away from her—like those boys took her baseball glove—but next time, and there will be a next time, she’s not going to let go.
She’ll just have to tighten her grip.
+
Esther was fifteen when she figured out that she liked girls. A girl named Alberta sat next to her in math class every day for a year. Every day, Esther felt her eyes being drawn to Alberta—her beautiful curly hair, her radiant smile, the soft tones of her voice when she spoke, the way her lips quirked when she was amused…
How was Esther supposed to pay attention to Geometry? Alberta’s body, all of its curves and edges, was the only shape she wanted to study. Esther knew there was something dangerous about that wanting. She could hear her mother’s voice ringing in her ears: Don’t be greedy. Don’t be greedy. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Esther tried to erase the thoughts of Alberta from her brain. And it worked, for a while. It worked, but only during the day.
Every night, Esther dreamt of brown eyes. The same ones. Over and over and over.
When Alberta graduated, Esther wanted to feel relieved that she was gone, relieved that she wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. She wanted to feel proud that she resisted the temptation, but all she felt was sad. Alberta was never hers to lose, never something Esther ever had a hold on, so why did it still feel like a piece of her had been ripped away?
It all seemed like a game with no way to win. But maybe if she tried hard enough, if she became the very best at something, she could be the first to find a way.
+
So for years, she practiced. For hours and hours every week, rain or shine. Sometimes the guys let her play with them but Esther knew that they didn’t see her as a real team member. She saw their silent glances to each other; she knew what those glances meant. Go easy on this pitch, Rob. Wouldn’t want her to break a nail.
Esther didn’t want to be the one at bat. Sure, the whoosh of air that came with hitting the ball was always a thrill, but she didn’t want to be at the mercy of a pitcher’s choices. She wanted to be the one who chose. The guys never wanted to let her pitch, though. They were too scared of striking out from a woman’s throws. They knew she had talent, but they didn’t dare to say it out loud. Saying it out loud would make it real; they didn’t want to believe it.
There was a wall in town, the left side of an abandoned building. The bricks looked sturdy and the area around it was almost always empty. Perfect target for throwing baseballs. She wound up her arm and threw it as hard and as fast as she could. Then she did it again. And again. Every time, she tried to imagine a catcher at the other end. Every time, she dreamt of what the crowd would sound like cheering for her.
Esther was about to throw what would’ve been the fiftieth ball of the day when a voice startled her. She hadn’t noticed anyone walking up to her.
“What did that wall ever do to you?”
Esther turned around to see who was talking to her. A woman—one she hadn’t seen before. She was gorgeous, though. She had a playful twinkle in her eye and she was looking at Esther in a way no other woman had looked at her. For a moment, Esther felt nervous, but she quickly corrected that emotion and schooled her face into a neutral expression.
“Depends on who’s asking,” Esther replied. “And I don’t know who you are.”
“Wilma.” Wilma glanced at the wall and then down at Esther’s hand. “Let me guess, the way you’re gripping that ball… gotta be a curveball.” Wilma gave her a smug look, like she knew she was right. And she was.
Damn.
“Alright, alright,” Esther chuckled. “So you’re a ball player too, huh? I can respect that. What’s your position?”
“Catcher,” Wilma said. “And if you’re a pitcher…”
“...We’d make a good team,” Esther finished the sentence. “Okay, Wilma , show me what you’ve got.”
And Wilma did. After that, they met up to practice a few days a week every week. Then, one day, Wilma looked at Esther’s face for a long lingering moment. Esther felt like she was being studied. Wilma nodded to herself.
“Follow me,” Wilma said. She started walking away from Esther. After a few steps, Wilma looked over her shoulder and said, “Well? You coming?”
So, Esther followed. Later, she found herself lying half naked with Wilma in the innermost room of the abandoned building.
“Wow,” Esther said. “That was… kinda incredible.”
Wilma scoffed. “Kinda? Baby, the sounds you were making… that doesn’t sound like a “kinda” to me.”
Esther rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head about it.” She reached for her clothes. “Do you want to leave first or should I?” The we can’t be seen together went unsaid. Esther wasn’t naive. She’d seen the names in the papers, heard about what happened to known ‘inverts.’ She had to think about these things; she couldn’t afford not to.
She was careful, so careful.
But Wilma wasn’t. Wilma got caught a few months later because she trusted the wrong person. Esther never found out whether or not Wilma got arrested or put away in some institution. A part of Esther never wanted to know what really happened—knowing the details would make it real, would make the loss real.
It was too painful to think about, so Esther buried the thought. She couldn’t stay in a town full of ghosts. She had to leave.
+
When she found out that the All Stars baseball team was down a few players—men everywhere were getting drafted left and right—Esther saw an opportunity. They claimed to be desperate for players, but when Esther showed up at tryouts, they looked at her funny.
“Are you lost?” Some guy called out to her as he saw her approach.
“Cut it out, Jimmy.” A second guy chided, walking over to the two of them.
He looked… familiar? It took Esther a second to place him in her memories. Then, it clicked: she’d met him briefly once: at an underground establishment frequented by people like her. She rarely went to those kinds of places—it felt so risky—but every now and then, the loneliness got to be too much. Every now and then, it was necessary.
“But, Tom—”
“I said cut it out, Jimmy,” Tom snapped. He shook his head and then smiled at Esther. “Don’t mind him, he’s just scared you’ll be better than him.” Tom winked at her. He recognized her.
Jimmy picked up a bat and Tom squatted behind him as the catcher, ready for Esther’s throw. The smug look on Jimmy’s face made Esther mad. She chose to throw a fastball, silently hoping it might crash into Jimmy’s face “accidentally.” Jimmy didn’t even have time to move his bat an inch before the ball hit the catcher's mitt.
Stunned, Jimmy shook out his shoulders as if to snap himself out of a trance. “Beginner’s luck,” he said, pointing his bat at Esther.
She threw another one. And another one. And another one. Every time, Jimmy missed. After the seventh miss, Jimmy’s face got red and he stormed off, kicking up dust as he walked away.
“Is he always that dramatic?” Esther asked Tom.
“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it,” Tom replied.
“I’ll get used to it? You mean—”
“Congrats, Es, you’re our new pitcher.”
Esther smiled. Her tensed up shoulders dropped in relief. She glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot before speaking.
“Is it hard? Being like… like us on the road like that?”
“It’s not easy—nothing ever is. But as long as you follow a few rules to keep yourself safe… I think you’ll like it a lot.”
“Thanks for giving me a shot,” Esther said.
“I think you gave it to yourself,” Tom said. “Takes a lot of guts to believe in yourself like that. You’ve got one hell of an arm, girl.”
And she was going to use that arm to hold onto this opportunity, nails digging into its skin and leaving crescent moon indentations.
This time, she was going to make her dream happen.