Fiction:
“NOBLAAAAAWWWCK!!!” The obnoxious yell whizzed past her right ear toward the baseball diamond.
What did he say? He sounded like the duck from the AFLAC commercials.
“NOBLAAAWWWCK!” Yes. Definitely the duck from AFLAC.
“My ten-year-old nephew throws better than you!”
She scanned the field to see at whom he was bellowing. Locating his target… #11. Scanning the roster, she spied the name and photo positioned under number eleven. Chuck Knoblauch. 2nd Baseman for the Minnesota Twins.
Oh! It’s ‘Knoblauch, not ‘Noblaaawwwck’. Got it.
Lesley enjoyed watching baseball and going to Major League baseball games on occasion. Only if it was the Mariners, and especially if Randy Johnson was pitching. It was not because she was impressed with his pitching skills, (she was), nor that she found humor in his nickname, “The Big Unit”, (she did). It was because her mother coincidentally worked retail with his mother in an upscale Seattle department store. She embraced an odd sense of loyalty and familial pride, though, in reality, they were not related, nor did he even know she existed.
Seattle Mariners against the Minnesota Twins. This was a company outing. Lesley had worked for a fledgling software startup for the past three years. The pay wasn’t great, but her bosses treated their team fairly, providing bonuses when possible, Friday afternoon video game challenges, and a fridge stocked with Jones Soda. Everyone worked under the Musketeers “All for One/One for All” spirit.
This outing was kind of a big deal. Celebrating a new contract signed. A contract that guaranteed employment for everyone for the rest of the year. The bosses provided pocket money to cover whatever sustenance each employee might desire that evening.
Lesley settled with her brat and beer and had just taken a bite when the shrieks and taunts from the person behind her flung forward. Initially charming, quickly replaced with annoying.
She tried to ignore him. She tried to focus on the game. She tried to enjoy the hot dog she knew her body would not appreciate later that evening. But, ugh, that voice! That grating tone causing chills to run up and down her spine, like the nails on a blackboard!
A shock of awareness zapped her brain. Internally, a picture formed and she realized she recognized that voice!
Turning around, she inquired, “Drew?… Drew Vaughan?”
A pair of uncomprehending gray-blue eyes she’d recognize anywhere stared back at her. It was him. No doubt about it. It had been nine years since she last saw him in their senior biology class in high school.
“Drew, it’s me, Lesley, from Westwood High.” Her words tumbled out quickly and ran over each other. “We were in Mrs. Moore’s science class together. I remember you standing up and telling everyone that there was a parallel universe containing clones of all of us, living their lives, looking exactly like us.”
Silence from Drew. Snickers and guffaws from the two buddies flanking his sides. One of them snorted his beer, causing foam to christen the co-worker next to her.
An immediate internal rebuke began…” oh, Lesley, you did it again! Think before you speak, woman! What kind of statement was that?! Parallel universe? Clones? Seriously?! How in the world will I get out of this one?” She shrunk in her seat.
Then, smack! The sound of wood and leather joining speed and power drew everyone’s attention to the game. The ball sailed over the infield Twins, the outfield Twins, hit the back wall and ricocheted to the ground. Picked up and thrown toward home plate. Not a home run for the Mariners, but a solid third base one. With some of the Mariner’s strongest hitters on deck, the rest of the inning promised to be exciting.
The home game win was everything a home-fan would hope for. Hits. Runs. Homeruns. Slides. Catches. Thrills. Chills.
Two unexpected bonuses happened that evening…
Randy Johnson recorded his 1,000 career strikeout against Chuck Knoblauch. That’s one…
The game was over. Fairweather fans had already left the building to beat the traffic. All of Lesley’s coworkers stayed to the end and were discussing where and how to extend the victory celebration.
Lesley was about to stand when a soft, gentle voice whispered into her right ear…
“I remember you, Lesley with an ‘ey’; not ‘ie’. I can’t ask you out because of current commitments I have in this universe, but I am confident my clone is asking your clone out for a post-game beer right now.” As he pulled back, his lips oh so slightly grazed her ear, causing a different kind of chill to run through her spine.
She did not get a date that evening, but her clone in a parallel universe did. Win/win.
Leigh Arevalo is trying to break her habit of using the excuse, “I’m resourceful, not creative…”. She spent her first 50 years honing her left brain and now plans on spending her next 50 honing her right. She lives part-time in Manzanita with her husband, two teen boys, and two teacup Yorkies.
