The Season
SET
Two players dragged their heels in the sand. A shallow rectangle made the court. It didn’t have to be perfect. The couple only contained a round of play. Guidelines for when the ball went out of bounds. The sand court wasn’t a permanent structure. Castles on the beach were toppled by children.
SEAM
Nelson brushed off the October day. “Summer Day-Revisited” hung like a tacked up blank canvas waiting to be painted. Yesterday, he served high fives with hard ciders and poured saccharin smiles over sour apple martinis. He wanted to wear the hug of his worn-out flannel shirts. An Instagram feed taunted him with pics of his buddies at the beach as he checked the bus app. The volleyball camaraderie called Nelson out to join them at Lake Michigan. But a stolen summer game day wasn’t scheduled for Nelson’s day off.
Across from the bus stop, gray pigeons hung on the telephone wire like a neglected smile. Nelson contemplated a pity meal of fast food while he waited for the bus. The kitchen grease of the fried chicken chain whiffed past Nelson like a conversation he needed to back away from. He slicked himself off the chicken shop wall as the noon sun urged Nelson to take off his warm flannel shirt. With the thick fall shirt packed away, Nelson gaged from the curb if the bus was in sight. He looked for the commuter destination light over the car roofs down the street. He patted his work bag in mild frustration bouncing his palm on the shirt’s added stuffing. The bag’s only other content being a bone-dry umbrella. As he checked his phone for the CTA app, more DM bubbles popped up pestering him.
DOUBLE CONTACT
Rebecca’s head ached. She massaged her temples, touching her new foundation, unaccustomed to the foreign feel of the base on her fingers. Rebecca worried her headache was cracking through her fresh-bought face. She had grown immune to the fluorescent tube lights above her cubicle. The headache followed her into the office with the weather change. Sinus season swung into full effect, but the weather wildly shifted each day of the week. One day was jacket weather, one day was sweater weather, and today Rebecca could get away with just a t-shirt.
Her employee handbook listed proper office attire at the new corporate environment. What style t-shirt was acceptable sat in the bottom of her desk drawer, mainly an office outing—We Are VenTech—shirt from her orientation welcome packet. The corporate colors clashed with the starchy collar. Rebecca couldn’t even reuse the restrictive castoff for next summer’s volleyball season.
Rebecca clutched the bottle of ibuprofen she ducked outside to purchase. The blue sky from the office windows lured her across to the CVS from her building. The pill bottle gave the excuse she needed to taste the weather before her lunch break. Rebecca unraveled the coupon strand receipt that spooled out at the self-checkout station from the bottle. Recently, she began saving receipts. She wiped away a tear before leaning into the bottle for the applied pressure asked for by the child safety lock. The headache was not strong enough for crying.
PEPPER
Just being outside wasn’t working for Nelson. His body rejected the vitamin D. He needed to get out of his head. The soccer shorts under his jeans started working up a sweat. His plan to bus it over to the gym superhero style wasn’t followed through. He couldn’t even finish waiting for the bus.
Later day eyes had noticed two missing buttons to complement the worn out elbows on the shirt in his bag. Nelson gave the shirt another season at the coin laundromat before one of the bent beige washers took it for a final spin. He thought elbow patches would give the shirt some high end catalog flair. But getting them sewn on would cost more than picking up another resale shirt on the way to the bar. Partygoers were now raiding the Lakeview thrift stores for cheap Halloween costumes. Nelson had no particular strong memory to the shirt. Once, Becca taught him that wardrobe weeding trick when she offered to make a little drawer space for herself at his place. Nelson found “no joy” in all his free liquor company promotional t-shirts. Having this philosophy-less clothes meant doing laundry on a more frequent schedule.
Nelson doubled checked his work bag for a pair of cheap sunglasses. He floated two or three gas station spinner rack knockoffs in and out of his possession at any time. Unsuccessful, he zipped up his bag and envisioned the flannel shirt inside.
Nelson hoofed it over to the nearest Halloween Spirit Shop. Next month, the retail space would convert back to a vacant rental. But for a few months, the void was filled. Before Nelson totally discarded the shirt in the bag, he could give it a few more rips and one last night out on the town. He just needed a mask to enjoy himself.
PERIMETER DEFENSE
Why did he sit down at my table? Showing off for the rest of the team? Not listening to me—only asking basic get-to-know-you questions. Just going through the nodding motions of being attentive. The proper chicken breast to salad ratio on his fork being his actual focus. I don’t care for the new sales representative.
Not everyone can be the listener that Nelson is with people. It’s more than just a bartender’s ear. Nelson actually reads people beyond the story you tell him. I wore blinders and ran hard for so long. Scholarships to undergrad to the work world. Nelson widened my gaze. Made me notice more to life than career goalposts.
This guy actually spits when he talks. He doesn’t notice me wipe off my marketing textbook. Or pick up on any of my signals that I’m studying. If I had Nelson’s ear, I wouldn’t have accepted this position right out of college. I focused on the package and not the people in the interview. Wish this guy would finish his salad already and go. He put in his dog and pony show for the break room.
I shouldn’t even be studying. Not thrilled with how we left things on Sunday morning. Should text Nelson. Confirm he believes I wasn’t making a next level move. I know that. Just want reassurance. Just looking for a place to change. After volleyball, after celebrating at Bronco’s, and after hanging out on Saturday night. Had enough of staying in the same sweaty clothes at Sunday brunch together. Had enough on my mind every Sunday with studying for a Master’s degree and Monday’s work week looming. I just wanted a fresh start.
Nelson keeps things loose, but the suggestion of leaving a gym bag in the corner seemed so transient. Was a little drawer space too much?
GOOFY
“Victory dog for The Ringer?” inquired Nelson with an extended hand. Bright yellow mustard highlighted the blackened char of the hotdog. Rebecca knew not to inquire about ketchup being available ever since being scolded on her family’s first trip to Chicago by the elderly Eastern-Europe man taking orders behind the diner counter. Rebecca held back, turning her nose up at the burn victim in a cracked bun Nelson offered in his hand. She’d be more inclined to accept the hotdog if it was served in a napkin and not in a sandy, volleyball slapping palm. “Deep Dive dragged his portable Weber all the way to Montrose Beach for this Victory Feast.” Smiled Nelson.
“Okay, I’ll stay for one dog if you never tell me how he got the name Deep Dive,” Rebecca agreed as she accepted the tubed meat like a relay team baton pass.
“Uh, he’s former Navy, you perv,” Nelson said, “Check his tats.”
“And how’s it you’re known to us as Whoa Nelly?”
“Master Nelson Womack, Esquire,” Nelson joked, extending a mustard stained hand, “Bartender at Bronco’s. It helps get my attention over the crowd.”
“Clever and on-brand”
“Thanks. On brand? Marketing!” Nelson pointed in recognition at Rebecca like he picked up a clue on game night, “That what you were studying before the game?”
“Yeah, which I should be getting to. . .”
“Hey, Ringer,”
“Rebecca, Rebecca Coleman.”
“Okay, Rebecca, how about you come over to Bronco’s with us?”
“I’ve got work to do,”
“So do I. My shift starts in an hour. But I see you with your nose in a book before the game and your head in the game while we play. Playing next to you in rotation, I noticed a worry line above the bridge of your nose. It deepens when you are waiting for the play to start. When you try to anticipate what’s coming next.” Rebecca’s worry line cut deeper as she listened to Nelson. The hotdog losing heat in her hand.
“So, come to the bar,” continued Nelson, “Most everyone will be on the patio and you can find a quiet corner. I’m not saying to blow off studying, just your routine.”
“Whoa Nelly! Does everyone get this personalized customer service?”
“Come and see for yourself if it’s on-brand.”
SIDE OUT
“Head Forward.”
Nelson taking charge was new. Becca felt comforted by cold and direct pressure before she could process her surroundings. Did she even hear Nelson ask for ice?
“Get a lot of bloody noises, Mr. Bartender?”
“First Aid Merit Badge.”
“Hurts. Stupid volleyball.”
“We all appreciate you diving for that play, Becca, but I’m still sidelining you.”
“No. Nelson, This is for the semifinals.”
“Then cheer us on!”
Becca craned back up to make her case directly with Nelson’s smile. Would he understand her need to see things through? Before he could finish saying “Head Forward,” she recognized the makeshift ice pack as Nelson’s t-shirt. Mr. Laidback commanded a situation when motivated, directing the volleyball team back into Bronco’s bar staff mode with looks and head nods without breaking a reassuring hug. Tavern dovetails set in motion on the lakefront beach. The silent scrambling for Becca’s comfort.
“Give them hell, Whoa Nelly!”
Nelson halted and covered his playfully dropped jaw. “That’s the first time you actually called me that, Rebecca.”
“First time I got it.”
SPIKE
Thumbs press on hearts. Strangers and friends scroll past a stream of filtered natural landscapes, dimly lit restaurant meals, and group selfies. But the image of a couple smiling together brings pause in a few. Some follow her, some follow him and some follow the hashtags—together, beachdays, summer.
DIG
—Take off, Becca, I’m bored! ;)
—Can’t
—Why??? :o)8
—Some of us work for a living
—I work!
—That’s not what I meant
—No, I get it, Rebecca
—Whoa Nelly! Unfair!
—I can’t get into this now.
—I have a client coming in an hour.
—Said I get it, Rebecca.
—You’re mad
—What do you want me to say?
—I’m not mad so you can have your meeting OR do you want me to “own” my feelings
—I can’t believe you’re doing this right now!
ACE
The couple looked back at the sand and laughed. They wondered what someone coming across these footprints would think. The worn, flat markings of the man’s shoe soles were so much longer than the intricate, precision points of her treads. The story of The Sasquatch and The Space Ranger walking hand in hand. Laughter and jumping on a back finishes the story with a single pair of footprints. The Sasquatch abducting The Space Ranger off the sand.
SPATCH
“So, Rebecca tells me you’re a bartender,” the pressed and graying gentleman said as he lent against the back porch railing. Nelson was already uncomfortable in the wrinkling black dress shirt and tan jeans Becca encouraged him to wear. He did his best not to sweat through the business casual shirt as he hauled the keg of imported beer into the directed position.
“Um, yeah. And thanks again for inviting both Rebecca and I.”
“Rebecca was a pleasure to have in class this semester. Hopefully, she can make some strong contacts tonight. She should impress people here.” The older gentleman stiffened as he watched Nelson tuck his shirt back in place.
Through the sliding glass doorway, Nelson spotted Becca handing her card to another party attendee. He couldn’t fabricate where on her dress the high end, paper stock appeared from. It was crisp and unwrinkled like business class street magic.
“Uh, I think I got the keg set up where you asked. Just need the tapper.”
“Tapper?”
“We need a tapper to get the beer out of the keg. Did the liquor store deliver one with the keg?”
The older gentleman sighed, “Go ask my wife. She handled the delivery. Otherwise, just do one of your bartender tricks.” Nelson went off to find the professor’s wife as the old man stayed and finished his glass of wine.
DUMP
“Look at how long this receipt is. I know—we should start saving them. Go as retail mummies for Halloween!” Nelson suggested as he folded the half-foot of white stripe paper and handed Becca the newly purchased umbrella.
“Who saves receipts,” asked Becca, ”You can just get a record of your purchases on your card statement.” Becca examined Nelson’s choice of umbrella without opening the new purchase. She rolled her eyes at the swarm of cartoonish, conjoined egg eyes staring back at her on the material. “Really?”
“What?”
“What if I wanted to use it again?”
“It’s not disposable. It dries off.”
“For work!”
“We just need something to get us from point A to point B dry. Why are you always thinking about work?”
“Just return it.”
Becca handed Nelson back the umbrella and the receipt. Nelson held up the receipt like a victory banner as he walked to Customer Service.
“See! Receipts come in handy!”
Rebecca’s worry line returned, digging deeper into her forehead.
MISS-HIT
Rebecca checked her phone at lunch. She saw different team members from the summer volleyball league having a pick-up game. She didn’t see Nelson in any of the photos. She hadn’t seen any pictures of him in anybody’s feed lately or since unfollowing Bronco’s on social media.
LET
Fingers discover a prize at the bottom of the recently replaced bowl. A distracted student dusts salt and peanut crumbs off paper onto the bar table. Phone number digits on wait staff order pad page. A smile across the room met with a wink.
CHANCE BALL
Sand filters through the collapsed volleyball net. Newly frayed strings under inspection. A shaken net snaps between two players. The game wraps away in a tight black roll. The ball blows away on worn-out skin. A track follows a welcome breeze off the lake. Two empty poles stand without a connection.
Dominic Loise lives in Chicago, Illinois. He is open about and advocates for mental health awareness. His work has appeared on Alchemic Gold Poetry Society, Analogies & Allegories, Calm Down, Push up Daisies!, Raven Review, Refresh, Silent Auctions & Short Editions and in Collective Realms & Emotional Alchemy.