Seems Like Old Times Read online

  Her Evening Newscene contract was nearly up. Her agent had been about to enter negotiations to renew when the Nighttime News offer came in. The agent said the offer was most generous and recommended careful consideration since, after all, she wasn't getting any younger. She knew what he meant. Television cameras were cruel to anyone overweight or aging. She could control her weight, but...

  Soon after, her business manager called to say he’d spoken with her agent, and if the new contract materialized as suggested, he was working up some outstanding investment strategies that he’d need to talk over with her so she wouldn’t have to pay a penny extra in taxes. That call was followed by her personal publicist who was already planning a campaign to further promote her name and career based on this latest move and promotion.

  Hearing from her these people, considering the terrific opportunity presented, thinking about her career, caused her stomach to become so tense that, for the first time in days, she had to take some of her ulcer medicine. Oddly, the business related nervousness, the tension, even the renewed stomach pain, reminded her of Miriam’s comments about putting on an old shoe again. Granted, it pinched, but it was a familiar pinch. She had spent a lifetime working to get ahead. Push, pull, two steps forward, one back, but always, ultimately, her position and status improved. She knew how to make it improve even further. Jumping networks and shows was one of the means to her ultimate goal: to be the lead weeknight news anchor at one of the big network stations.

  She didn’t see how she could refuse the Nighttime News offer. To do so would be unlucky. Over the years she’d learned that building a career didn’t take half as much talent as it did hard work and luck.

  Ever since the seventh grade when she began to write short news bulletins and long gossip columns for her friends, Lee had wanted to be a journalist. She had always thought in terms of the print media, with her goal being the New York Times. Those plans were shelved when, shortly after graduation, one of her journalism professors, Paul Hastings, lined up a job for her with a television station in Los Angeles. The thought of going out into the real world to look for work had been a scary proposition. Jobs in magazines were hard to come by, the L.A. Times wanted experienced reporters, and free lancing was only for the independently wealthy or hard core, starvation loving anorexics. Hastings' offer was too good an opportunity to pass up, even though her "production assistant" position was really no more than a glorified secretary.

  After Lisa’s first day on the job, Hastings showed up at her apartment with a bottle of Dom Perignon to celebrate. When he made it clear just how grateful she was supposed to be, she showed him the door. He was persistent, she was lonely, and eventually his persistency paid off. They had an affair that lasted over a year despite her not ever feeling entirely comfortable with him. Even in bed she had the disquieting tendency to think of him as "Mr. Hastings."

  After four months of behind the scenes work, the six o'clock news show producer, who'd recognized Lisa's photogenic features from day one, began to send her out on news assignments with a cameraman. She was sharp, aggressive and ambitious. She covered shopping mall openings and community board meetings, the kind of thing that, nine times out of ten, ended up on the cutting room floor, but even so, her reports were insightful and evocative. Then, one day, the station sent her and a cameraman out to cover the mayor making an address to a civic action group. The address would have absolutely no news worthiness unless it was an exceedingly dull day everywhere else in the greater Los Angeles area. On that particular day, however, three gunmen broke into the meeting, took everyone hostage, and demanded that the mayor free all political prisoners as well as give the gunmen three million dollars. Lisa and her cameraman got the whole thing on film. The gunmen decided to let the television people leave in order to bring their film to the studio and to air their demands in living color on the six o'clock news. They failed to realize that the same cameras that gave the public information would also help the police tactical squad plan a hostage rescue. By six o'clock, the hostage threat was over and Lisa had the whole episode on camera. She not only reported the story, she was a participant in it and documented the crisis with clarity, in the no nonsense, nerves of steel manner that remained her style. Because of its drama, the national networks picked up the story.

  After that, she was regularly sent out on assignment. Her all American blond looks and poised, intelligent manner quickly made her a favorite with the public, and a year later, she was offered a job as a local news anchor on weekends. She threw herself into the job with fervor. Weekends led to prime time, and eventually, to New York, where she began using the name Lee.

  In New York, Lee perfected what she’d only been a novice at in Los Angeles--backstabbing, game playing and newsroom politics. She thrived on them. The only way to get ahead, she had quickly learned, was to be faster, smarter and dirtier than the competition. To her surprise, it wasn't very hard to do. She seemed to fit right into that world.

  It was Miwok that was alien now. Seeing old friends confused her--especially Tony, and in a new, disturbing way, Ben did as well, She didn't understand herself around either of them, and that bothered her. They made her think about things she didn't want to think about. They made her ponder "if only’s" that she didn't want to ponder. It was best to stay away from them both.

  No matter how much she wanted to see them.

  o0o

  That afternoon, after sorting and discarding more of her mother's possessions, she sat in the garden with Miriam.

  "Do you think we're doing the right thing, Miriam?" she asked. They sat on the patio in the morning sun, tea, muffins and a tub of Clover sweet butter in front of them. Clover dairies dotted the Marin and Sonoma county headlands. She hadn’t seen the brand for years.

  "Are you talking about the cholesterol in the butter or selling your house?"

  "Neither. Of course we'll sell. I meant choosing Janet Lettice as our realtor. Do we trust her?"

  Miriam gave a slight shrug. "I trust her to sell the house as much as anyone. Of course, Lisa, once you sell you'll be cut off from Miwok forever."

  "You did it."

  "Because I thought the town had too many bad memories. You weren't the only one who couldn't get along with Judith, and a part of me always held her responsible for my brother's death. If it weren't for you, after Jack died, I would never have spoken to Judith again."

  "I never realize that." Lee was startled by Miriam's words.

  "I shouldn't have said anything to you. But you know what? My brother lived in this house. He loved puttering in this garden. The big rhododendron by the fence, he planted. The painting that hangs over the mantle in the family room was one he picked out. When I ran away from what hurt, I also ran from all I'd loved."

  "Aren't you happy in San Diego?"

  "Oh, I am. But now, I realize how much Miwok means to me as well."

  "No regrets, then?" Lee asked.

  "Only that I wasn't here while you were growing up."

  "I didn't turn out that bad, did I?"

  "You're lovely. Everything Judith ever wanted you to be."

  Everything...successful, well known, wealthy. Lee could measure "everything" by the number of fan letters she received, the number of phone calls from politicians and the "in" people, even how many floors above Park Avenue her apartment was located. "I don't know what she wanted me to be," Lee said. "Half the time she said I could do whatever I set my mind to, and the other half I was called a complete failure." She chuckled sardonically. "Can that be a reason we never got along?"

  "She could be very cruel." Miriam words were low.

  Since they were being honest, Lee said what had been in her heart for a long time. It was difficult for her to do. She had kept her feeling about her mother locked up forever it seemed, and she wasn't sure if she could find the words. "A part of me still feels sorry for her. She was hurt, in constant pain. There were times, I admit, that I forgot that myself. There were times I hated her. As I grew older,
I've come to understand her disappointments in life--how my father died at such a young age, and how her own career never even began, me. It wasn’t really her fault, and yet, she could never forgive. And I could never forget."

  "She was a bitter, self-centered, hateful woman," Miriam said. "Probably the poorest combination of all in a mother."

  "It's a funny thing," Lee said. "I'll never forgive her for what she did, and yet a part of me is sorry we never got along. I spent years hating her. Then, the hatred disappeared and all that's left is disappointment."

  "Has being back helped any?" Miriam’s gaze was sad. "Has it helped the open wound that was you and Judith to heal at least a little?"

  "I hope so." Lee grabbed her wallet and car keys from her purse. "I think I’ll take a drive," she said, then hurried from the house.

  She drove to the public library and parked. Soon she'd be back on television where she belonged. She'd scarcely paid any attention to world events this past week. Several days worth of the New York Times and the Washington Post would have to be devoured quickly. She hadn’t even brought her iPad, thinking she would finish her task in Miwok more quickly if not distracted. She never expected to be away this long, or so cut-off from the real world.

  She glanced at the bulletin board as she walked in. A large flyer caught her attention. The Miwok Schools' Athletic Association was putting on a benefit dance at Miwok High School on Friday night for parents and any adults who wanted to support school sports.

  She read further. It would be an 'Oldies but Goodies' night with music from the 'fifties and 'sixties, plus a 'live' disc jockey.

  A dance at Miwok High! What fun they had been.

  With a sigh for all that used to be, she picked up the last three days worth of the New York Times--the library didn’t receive copies of the Washington Post--then found a cubicle with a desk and chair. There, she could sit, read, and take notes if necessary, undisturbed.

  She found a detailed news report about the Middle East and began to read. Iran and Iraq, even the North Korea, seemed so far away...

  Her mind wandered back to the flyer about the dance. She was in the ninth grade when she went to her first dance at Miwok High. She had defined the term "wallflower."

  In the tenth grade, though, boys began to notice her. And, of course, in the tenth grade she met Tony. He was a terrific dancer and could dance the socks off anyone else she had ever known.

  She smiled as she slowly turned the pages of the Times without even seeing them. Although each had plans for their future, they never dwelled on the fact it would mean parting. Like most kids, they only saw the big picture, the ideal, and not how to achieve it.

  Lee sighed. It'd been years since she was naive about anything.

  Chapter 12

  As much as Lee had enjoyed Ben’s Little League games, she had to admit to uneasiness about going another game. It would be the last one she’d be attending, though, so why not go and enjoy it?

  She wanted to see Ben one last time, and to say good-bye to Tony after a game would be fitting. Baseball fields were where she remembered him best, and were where she would always want to remember him. Although she might always carry some bad memories--of Judith, of high school, even of Miwok, she was glad that Tony would never be one of them.

  She’d tell him how wonderful it had been to see him again, and to have met Ben. She’d wish them both well, and then leave. She'd already spent far too much time thinking about them.

  She arrived just as the game was starting. Tony waved to her, then Ben spotted her and yelled, "Yo, Lisa!" He smiled. "You came! Thanks!"

  "I wouldn’t miss it," she called back, "Good luck, Ben."

  Ben played shortstop and the game kept him busy since few players could hit past the infield. More than most games, this one was turning into a real duel, with both teams playing their hearts out. Ben's friend, Zachary, the Bruin's best pitcher, was on the mound. Lee found herself paying close attention to the game, agonizing over every pitch.

  Try as they might, though, the Bruins were losing to the Firebirds, 4 to 3.

  It was the bottom of the fifth inning--Little League "minor" league games only played six innings rather than nine. One parent explained to Lee, while getting an autograph, that it was more as a kindness to the parents than to conserve the strength of the children.

  Lee bent forward to watch as suspense built.

  The Bruins first batter walked. The second struck out. Zachary singled, but the following batter flied out. Runners were now on second and third, two outs, the game on the line. Lee's heart jumped into her throat when she saw Ben walking up to the plate. She remembered Tony in situations like this when they were in high school. She remembered how he felt the weight of the whole team rested on his shoulders. A hit, and he was a hero. An out, and he was the goat.

  She glanced at Tony, and saw him pacing back and forth in front of the dug out. Ben stepped into the batter's box. Tony stopped walking, his concentration fully on the boy.

  She held her breath as the pitcher threw. The ball sailed over the plate high. Ball one. She breathed again.

  The throw. Ben swung and missed.

  Lee chewed her bottom lip, feeling his disappointment.

  "Good swing, Ben," Tony called. "You'll get it."

  Ball two and ball three were low and outside. Only one more ball and Ben could walk, then all this pressure would be off him.

  Lee’s heart pounded at the next pitch.

  "Strike two," the umpire called. Full count. Ben had stood there, the bat on his shoulder, watching the ball travel straight down the middle of the plate.

  Lee squeezed her eyes shut. Poor child, she thought. This is too much pressure, simply too much for a nine year old!

  "Step out of the box, Ben. Take a practice swing," Tony said.

  Against her will, Lee opened her eyes again. Much as she didn't want to watch, she had to. She saw Tony rubbing his hands against his jeans and imagined he was remembering his times in such a predicament. As he had to learn to face it alone, so must Ben.

  "Protect the plate, Ben," Tony counseled, hands on knees as Ben, again, stepped back into the batter's box. "Anything close."

  Ben nodded at Tony, then raised the bat over his shoulder.

  The pitcher went into his motion. Lee held her breath. The ball sailed toward the plate, straight and true. She froze as she saw Ben go into his swing.

  The ball soared toward the outfield. Lee jumped up and down, cheering with the parents as the center fielder ran toward the ball, glove outstretched. The ball dropped, bounced, and went rolling toward the fence as all three outfielders chased after it.

  Ben sped past first and second and was on his way to third as the throw came in to the third baseman. "Slide, Ben," Lee screamed.

  The ball zoomed past the third baseman into foul territory when Ben took off toward home. "No!" She threw her arms up as if she could stop him, then, "Yes! Run, Ben, come on! Run!"

  The ball got to the catcher just before Ben reached home plate. He slid right under the tag.

  Lee clapped, stamped and cheered as the Bruins emptied the dugout to give Ben high fives for his "inside the park home run." Ben smiled from ear to ear when his teammates surround him.

  Tony gave him a high five, then patted his back over and over. Lee could see his inclination to give Ben a big hug at war with not wanting to do anything that would make Ben feel in the least bit babyish. Ben, though, settled the quandary by throwing his arms around Tony’s waist. That simple gesture showed the easy affection and love between the two. Watching them, Lee’s eyes filled with tears of happiness and a little awe at this special moment when Ben could feel pure, uncomplicated joy at what he had achieved.

  The Bruins held their lead in the top of the sixth and won the game, 6 to 4.

  o0o

  Tony and some of the other parents decided to take the boys out for a pizza to celebrate. Lee had approached Tony, planning to say her good bye as soon as they were alone.
/>   "Can Lisa come with us, Dad?" Ben asked.

  Tony's gaze met hers. "Of course, if she'd like."

  Other parents were still nearby. In fact, one of the coaches was watching Lee with bated breath. Suddenly, she realized she wanted to go, wanted to be with them both a little while longer. What difference would a couple hours make? There'd surely be a better time later this evening to say her good-byes.

  Despite the noise and bustle of the pizza parlor, Tony found a quiet booth in a corner. Tony bought beers for himself and Lee, and Ben went off to play video games with his friends while the pizza was being baked.

  "Some game, huh?" Tony asked, barely able to sit still after the excitement.

  "Watch out, Lisa, you might turn into a Little League junkie."

  "I can't tell you how exciting it was--or how nerve wracking!"

  "Even more than the big leagues," Tony added.

  "And Ben was so thrilled. It was fun being there. I’m so glad he asked me to come. I really liked his company at the picnic, too."

  Tony flashed one of his brilliant smiles. "Yeah? That's great. I was hoping you'd tell him to get lost if he was bothering you."

  "He was no bother."

  "He told me about you making him feel better when he got hurt. That was nice, Lisa. Thanks."

  She smiled, then dropped her gaze back to her beer. Ever since the picnic, the conversation she had with Ben about his mother had been preying on her mind. She didn’t know if Tony realized that Ben felt that way. If he didn’t, he needed to.

  "At the picnic..." She hesitated. This wasn’t really her business, but she was making it hers.

  "Yes?"

  "Ben said something that got me wondering..."