| Racers Page 3 In the batting cages, Matt was clearly the best, though I held my own. John did a good job as well. Ellie was struggling, so I went over and stood outside the cage door, offering little bits of coaching to help her out. �Hands together�feet apart�wait for the ball to come to you�back shoulder up.� By the second quarter she was fouling the ball off, so she made some progress, though she looked discouraged when she came out and pulled off the batting helmut. �Who�s up for mini-golf?� I said, trying to change the focus. The kids all said, �I am,� including Ellie, whose sweet smile instantly returned. There were eight of us, and we had to break into two groups of four. While we were working that out, Ellie said she wanted to be in my group because she wanted to wager on the golf. �Loser buys the winner an ice cream,� she announced, pointing over to the ice cream stand. �You�re on,� I said, and we shook. So the bunch of us played in a pair of quartets, but the real competition was between Ellie and me. I am a pretty competitive guy; not one to let ANYBODY beat me at ANYTHING, and so I tried my hardest. Golf, however, was never my game, and coming down to the seventeenth hole I only had a one-stroke lead on my rival. I could have played things conservatively at that point, but I didn�t. I went for the tough shot and, of course, blew it. Maybe blew it a little more than I had to. Ellie played the conservative angle and made par. I was three stroked over on that hole, and so the girl pulled ahead of me by two. The final hole in miniature golf is one designed to keep the players from taking the balls with them, and so your score can be only one, if you get a hole in one, or two, if you are wide of the hole. I had built in that extra bogey just in case I was to ace the last hole, but I didn�t and so Ellie beat me by a stroke. Her smile could not be contained. If the sun had not been out that day, there still would have been enough light. We took the kids over to the ice cream stand, and Matt took care of his nieces and nephew, while I paid for Ellie�s extra-large sundae, with all the fixings. She didn�t take her eyes off me as she ate the gargantuan dessert. We sat on the picnic tables near the stand and she made sure that I watched her eat every bite. I did. We stayed that year later than usual. The town fireworks were visible from a hill at the end of the cul-de-sac, and Lisa was a big fan of fireworks. We walked over and sat on the grass. People set out groups of folding chairs or spread out blankets. The three cousins ran around laughing as we waited for the fireworks to start. Ellie stood next to her mother. At one point, halfway through the aerial display, I caught Ellie�s eye and stuck my tongue out at her quickly and then looked back up. I heard her laughing in response. As soon as the fireworks were over we walked back to Matt�s and prepared to head back to Boston. Lisa went over and said goodbye to Ellie. They whispered to each other and laughed. Then Ellie came over and put her hand out to me. �Nice try with the golf,� she said. �Maybe you�ll do a little better next time.� �I will. I definitely will,� I said. �See you then.� �OK,� she said. That September I took a different job and moved away, up to Downeast Maine. I kept in touch with Brian and Pete and Lisa�who, one year later, became Pete�s wife. I didn�t communicate much with Matt and Janet. They sent Christmas cards and the occasional email, but when I had time off, I went back to the old neighborhood to see friends and family, but those trips never jibed with their visits to Boston. And then, almost two years after I�d moved, I got a mass email inviting all of us to the Independence Day cookout. I had the time off, so I decided to go; only I wasn�t about to go seven hours each way on the same day. I knew Matt had a spare room, so I called him to see if I could stay over on the 4th and return the next day. He was more than happy to have me. �Great I said. Cookout, go-karts, � I said. �I bet Ellie thinks she�s gonna beat me in miniature golf again.� �Oh Jesus,� Matt said. �Huh? What?� Silence. �Matt? What is it?� �No one told you, huh?� And then I knew. I understood right then. I didn�t even have to ask, but I did. �Told me what?� �Ellie,� Matt said. �She was killed. Last summer.� I took a deep breath. �What? Little Ellie? She�s dead?� �Yeah. She�s dead. A car accident. She was with a guy. Her boyfriend. The police think they might have been racing with another car.� I didn�t say much after that. Matt said that Kathy had been devastated and that she moved away over the winter. After hanging up the phone, I sat on the couch and didn�t bother to put the light on when it started to get dark outside. I emailed Matt the next day and told him that, on second thought, I wouldn�t be able to make the cookout that year, but I thanked him for remembering to invite me. I have to email him again one of these days. I have to ask him where Ellie is buried. |