Read Online Fear Strikes Out by Jim Piersall, Hirshberg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jim Piersall, Hirshberg
Ads: Link
about her people? When can I see her again? I’ve got to call her up and make a date—for tonight. She’ll be through at the hospital at just about the same time the ball game’s over. But where does she live? I don’t even know the name of her hospital.
I called Tony Howley, and he said I could reach Mary at St. Mary’s Hospital, so I phoned her just before I left to go to the ball park that night. As I waited for her to come to the phone I nearly hung up. My hand was shaking so much that I couldn’t get a firm grip on the receiver, and suddenly I seemed to be swimming in perspiration. When she finally answered in her small, firm voice, I could only stammer, “Meet me at the Tiptoe after work?”
“Holy cow!” she said. “It’s Jimmy again. How are you?”
“O.K. Meet me, Mary?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you, Jimmy,” she said, softly.
“And if the game’s not over—”
“I don’t have to go back on duty until tomorrow afternoon, so I don’t care how late I get in. If the game’s not over, Jimmy, I’ll wait for you.”
There was a caress in her voice, and somehow I didn’t feel nervous any more. I wanted to stand in that phone booth and talk to her, but I had to get to the ball park.
“Mary—” I said.
“What?”
“Uh—nothing. I’ll see you at the Tiptoe.”
My heart was pounding when I hung up. What’s the matter with me? I never felt this way about a girl before.
At the Tiptoe, Mary was sitting at a table in the corner, with Ann and Tony and Dan and a couple of other people. She waved when I walked in, and motioned me to an empty chair beside her. I was annoyed. I’d hoped to find her alone. I nodded to everyone else, and greeted Mary with a somewhat thin “Hi.” Then I sat down.
The conversation was general, but I didn’t have much to say, even though everyone was talking about the ball game. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mary. I saw now that her hair wasn’t really red at all, but quite definitely brown. I loved to watch her smile, for she smiled with more than just her mouth. Her eyes twinkled and her whole face lit up, and she smiled often. For the first time, I noticed the curve of her chin. She had a look of determination, and I saw now that it was because of her chin. It was a beautiful chin and it went well with the rest of her face because it didn’t jut out, but it just missed being square. I wonder if she’s stubborn. Does she have to have her own way all the time? She smiled and I relaxed. How can a girl with a smile like that be stubborn?
“Are you always so happy?” I asked.
“Are you always so serious?” she countered.
We both laughed. Then I said, “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
“Can’t we talk here?”
“Not really,” I said. “All these people—”
“We can’t very well break away.”
“Why not?”
“Wouldn’t it be sort of obvious?”
“What if it is?”
“Jimmy—”
“What?”
“After tomorrow, I go back on duty days.”
“Then we can get together Sunday night. There’s no ball game.”
“Holy cow, you’re a real bright boy, aren’t you?”
We both laughed again. It wasn’t until after Bob Howley had driven her home and then dropped me off at my rooming house that I realized my tensions and pressures had eased up so much that I was almost completely relaxed.
At the time, Mary was living with an aunt, Mary Holleran. We sat on the porch Sunday evening, and talked softly while a full moon played hide-and-seek with passing clouds. One minute it would be almost pitch dark and the next the whole porch would be glowing. I remember that evening very well because it was the first time I ever talked frankly about myself to a girl my own age; in fact, before I was through, I told Mary things I had never told another living soul. I told her about my headaches and my fears and my mom’s trouble and my dad’s temper and my need for security and my everlasting quest for release from the pressures that plagued me. I tried
I called Tony Howley, and he said I could reach Mary at St. Mary’s Hospital, so I phoned her just before I left to go to the ball park that night. As I waited for her to come to the phone I nearly hung up. My hand was shaking so much that I couldn’t get a firm grip on the receiver, and suddenly I seemed to be swimming in perspiration. When she finally answered in her small, firm voice, I could only stammer, “Meet me at the Tiptoe after work?”
“Holy cow!” she said. “It’s Jimmy again. How are you?”
“O.K. Meet me, Mary?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you, Jimmy,” she said, softly.
“And if the game’s not over—”
“I don’t have to go back on duty until tomorrow afternoon, so I don’t care how late I get in. If the game’s not over, Jimmy, I’ll wait for you.”
There was a caress in her voice, and somehow I didn’t feel nervous any more. I wanted to stand in that phone booth and talk to her, but I had to get to the ball park.
“Mary—” I said.
“What?”
“Uh—nothing. I’ll see you at the Tiptoe.”
My heart was pounding when I hung up. What’s the matter with me? I never felt this way about a girl before.
At the Tiptoe, Mary was sitting at a table in the corner, with Ann and Tony and Dan and a couple of other people. She waved when I walked in, and motioned me to an empty chair beside her. I was annoyed. I’d hoped to find her alone. I nodded to everyone else, and greeted Mary with a somewhat thin “Hi.” Then I sat down.
The conversation was general, but I didn’t have much to say, even though everyone was talking about the ball game. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mary. I saw now that her hair wasn’t really red at all, but quite definitely brown. I loved to watch her smile, for she smiled with more than just her mouth. Her eyes twinkled and her whole face lit up, and she smiled often. For the first time, I noticed the curve of her chin. She had a look of determination, and I saw now that it was because of her chin. It was a beautiful chin and it went well with the rest of her face because it didn’t jut out, but it just missed being square. I wonder if she’s stubborn. Does she have to have her own way all the time? She smiled and I relaxed. How can a girl with a smile like that be stubborn?
“Are you always so happy?” I asked.
“Are you always so serious?” she countered.
We both laughed. Then I said, “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
“Can’t we talk here?”
“Not really,” I said. “All these people—”
“We can’t very well break away.”
“Why not?”
“Wouldn’t it be sort of obvious?”
“What if it is?”
“Jimmy—”
“What?”
“After tomorrow, I go back on duty days.”
“Then we can get together Sunday night. There’s no ball game.”
“Holy cow, you’re a real bright boy, aren’t you?”
We both laughed again. It wasn’t until after Bob Howley had driven her home and then dropped me off at my rooming house that I realized my tensions and pressures had eased up so much that I was almost completely relaxed.
At the time, Mary was living with an aunt, Mary Holleran. We sat on the porch Sunday evening, and talked softly while a full moon played hide-and-seek with passing clouds. One minute it would be almost pitch dark and the next the whole porch would be glowing. I remember that evening very well because it was the first time I ever talked frankly about myself to a girl my own age; in fact, before I was through, I told Mary things I had never told another living soul. I told her about my headaches and my fears and my mom’s trouble and my dad’s temper and my need for security and my everlasting quest for release from the pressures that plagued me. I tried
Similar Books
