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He Should Have Played Ball

by Erica Kennel

 

Part 1

"Chris, are you still here? You better still be here."

His older sister was calling for him again from just down the hall, and Chris cringed slightly at the annoyed tone in her voice. He sighed, and felt he should get right up and let her know that he had better things to do than be at her beck and call all day. Heck, right now the guys were outside playing ball, and that is where he should be, not here helping his sister. His mind started to build the resolve to tell his sister that he was going outside with the guys but then his mind jumped to what happened last week. Ugh, he felt the embarrassment well up inside of his chest again. The ball coming right at him, in his memory it was almost sitting still in the air, like an apple to be plucked from a tree. How could he have missed it? Not only missed it but ran away from it. Just like a girl would, just like a dumb old girl would, he thought. But, on second thought, it was coming at him real fast. He remembered the feeling of terror at seeing the streaking toward him. Why would anyone stay in front of that ball and risk getting hit? OK, so maybe I didn't need to squeal when I jumped out of the way, but it was still a good idea. Those boys are stupid he thought, why would anyone play such a stupid game? Ugh, he felt the shame again. No. No. No. They are right, I am a dumb sissy girl. As he said it to himself a far-away tingle shot threw him and he couldn't resist going on. A dumb sissy girl, that's all I am. I shouldn't be playing with them, I should be a cheerleader. He repeated the taunts he heard after the game to himself, and the tingling grew. Feeling this was an appropriate penance for his error, he pushed a little further, not acknowledging to himself that the wiggly sensation bouncing around in his stomach was driving the self admonition and not a desire for penance. A cheerleader, yeah, in my little skirt. Cheering on the real boys! In my skirt, my little girly pleated cheerleader skirt, all the boys watching me. I should have pom-poms, ribbons in my hair. When they are playing like real boys, I should be their little sissy cheerleader. Such a little siss----- Suddenly he stopped himself. He thought of his dad looking at him in that way of his. Ugh, the unacknowledged tingling was gone, and he buried the whole thought. In a determined manner, Chris said aloud to himself, "I will practice, I will get so good that they will always pick me first."

"Chiiiiiiis, I know you're in there, come here."

Chris got up and went to his sister's room. He always felt slightly uneasy in her room, although he wasn't sure why. It was just so girly, and Chris felt that if he stayed to long it would start to rub off. When he appeared at the door, his sixteen year-old sister was sitting in front of her vanity, playing with her hair. Two years older than Chris, Staci was epitome of teenage girl-dom. She was about 5' 7" tall and her body had seemingly overnight gone from all arms and legs to all curves. With her long dark brown hair, she had blossomed into full verge-of-womanhood glory. Sometimes Chris could not stop staring at her, not out of lust, but out of... what? He couldn't figure that out either. He secretly liked catching glimpses of her putting on her make-up, or checking the fit of her clothes. She now just seemed so powerful in a weird way, and seemed to be able to dominate him without any effort. Her life, it seemed, was cute boys, cuter boys, clothes, cheering, a little school, more clothes, friends, and the cutest boy of all - Tommy, her current crush. Strangely, he thought, and for reasons Chris didn't understand, between trips to the mall, dates, and phone calls with her friends she still took an interest in her little brother.

Staci finally saw his reflection in the mirror. "What took you so long?"

"I was just reading." he lied. He had been watching a soap opera. In the course of the long summer he had started watching one soap opera because he was a little smitten with one of the actresses and it had turned into, much to his secret embarrassment, a favorite pastime. His mind flashed to the character Ashley for some reason, and he wondered why would she date such a loser like Brad? He is so mean to her, such a jerk. Why not Caleb? He was so cool, always on that motorcycle and was even taller than Brad. His mind quickly changed to seeing his friends playing ball. He felt so silly, he had been watching a soap opera when all the guys were outside playing ball.

"Earth to Chris, come in." Staci said, waving his hand near his face. "What's wrong with you? Why the moping around today?"

"Nothing, just felt like reading."

Staci examined her little brother. Maybe an inch or two shorter than her and three years younger, with soft features and thick dark hair, it was obvious he took after mom. Odd that her and Molly took after dad, at least did according to all their aunts. She liked Chris, even beyond the brotherly "because she had to." Maybe it was because he seemed so vulnerable, and that she felt a need to protect him. OK, maybe even push him around a little when it came in handy - but he was always so nice and ready to help she would take advantage of him without even trying. Maybe she always felt a little sorry for him because she knew how hard he had it with daddy, who always seemed disappointed with him. Whatever, she liked to have him around some, certainly way more than Molly, who was so aggressive and loud. Chrissy - he would always throw a fit when she would tease him with the femmy version of his name - was quiet and she felt like they were close for some reason, had something in common, although she didn't quite know what.

Today, Staci was experimenting with her hair and make-up. Her cousin Lisa's wedding was coming up and she was going to be, for the first time ever, a full bridesmaid. She was so excited! A full bridesmaid meant she got to be involved in all the fun stuff. She had been a Junior bridesmaid before - like Molly was for this wedding - but never the real thing. Weddings are so much fun, she thought excitedly. As a full bridesmaid she would get to go to the rehearsal dinner and brunch, and get to have her hair and make-up done professionally. Oh, and if she could get her cousin to go along with it, she would be escorted by Nick, a friend of the groom who was, well, a total hottie. So today, before all the girls were to meet to be fitted for their dresses, she was playing around with her hair and make-up. She wanted something sophisticated and older for the rehearsal and brunch, something that might even fool Nick. That is where Chris came in, he was judging different styles and taking pictures of her hair from different angles on the digital camera. Weird, he seemed to even have a knack for it and, even though he wouldn't admit it, seemed to enjoy it a little.

"Well, what do you think?" Staci got up and turned back and forth in front of Chris showing him the sophisticated upsweep style she had done to her hair. "I think this would be really good for the rehearsal, don't you? I could wear my drop earrings and with my little black dress. I think I would look older."

"Uh, I don't really know, its girl stuff." Chris felt a little embarrassed, again thinking he about the guys playing ball and contrasting that with his talking to his siter about hair and make-up. Staci seemed to sense he was feeling kinda weird today. "Come on, you been such a big help today, Chris. Its always great when you give me a man's opinion." Chris thought about that. She is right, he reasoned. Why do girls put on make-up and do their hair? They do it so boys and men will think they are pretty. So his sister was lucky that he was willing to give up playing ball with his buddies - cause he really did want to, right? - to help her out and give her a man's perspective. He felt better.

"OK, I like it. It looks really pretty. But, uh, you know how some girls will take a few strands of hair and pull it down around their face." Chris thought of a hairstyle he noticed on his soap opera - "I think if you did that it would look even better."

Staci went over to the mirror and with a comb pulled out two wisps of hair and pulled them down framing her hair. She loved it. "That's it Chris, thank you! I really like that. You are so awesome." She quickly gave him a hug. Pulling away she said, and regretted it as it came out of her mouth "Maybe you will be a hairdresser some day."

Chris blushed and felt embarrassed again. Staci quickly moved on and for the next hour Chris took pictures of her hair and reviewed them on the computer. Chris felt good to have a more technical job. Soon, the phone rang, and Staci was engaged in a conversation about her hair and the wedding. Chris wandered back to his room still feeling weird. He really loved his sister and was glad to help her like that. But, today, every time he lost himself in helping her he would keep thinking about that dumb old ballgame. And why did he feel so funny when she teased him about being a hairdresser? She was only kidding, yet he felt so embarrassed. He resolved that he should of played ball today, being inside with his sister all day had messed him up. Well, he thought, tomorrow I will be out with the guys again and I can forget all about this stuff. Just then, Looking out the window, he saw Johnny walking home with his mitt. He was dirty and his knee was skinned. Chris suddenly felt relief that he was in his room, clean and not hurt like that. He ran his hands over his nearly hairless legs that were without a mark or scab. Why do boys like to hurt themselves, he wondered? Why do they have to play so rough. He thought about gym at school and the dreaded dodgeball day. They played so rough and threw the balls so hard. He liked when they played volleyball or badminton, but hated dodgeball or basketball day. He thought of the girls in his class enviously. They don't have to play dodgeball, and nobody makes fun of them. They would usually just congregate in the corner and talk. Probably about hair and make-up like he just did with his sister. Maybe he would try to do that with them next time, he could be the man's perspective like he was with his sister. Yes, he thought, I might try that next time.

A little while later, as Chris was messing around on his computer, his mom came into the room.

"Are you ready?" His mom seemed to indicate that he wasn't ready for something.

"Ready for what?" He asked.

"We have to leave in half an hour, you are coming with your sisters and I." His mom now looked annoyed.

"What? Why?" Chris suddenly felt sick. He had to go with his sisters to the dress shop?

"I told you yesterday, that if you were here you would have to go, because we won't be back until late. After the fitting, we have to go over to your cousin's and I can't leave you here."

"But I can't go, you are going to the dress place, I can't go there." Chris was really starting to get upset. He felt almost like crying.

"You will, I told you yesterday. I thought you would be playing with your friends today and could stay over at Johnny's or Tim's. But its too late now, you will have to come with us."

"But Moooom. Please. Let me stay, I am old enough." Chris rarely talked back to his mom and it sounded so whiny coming out of his mouth.

"No, for the last time, you are coming, it won't kill you." Chris mom was getting mad, he rarely disobeyed and this seemed like such a trivial thing.

"No, I won't go watch you try on dresses. I am staying here. I am not going." Chris stamped his foot and looked at his mom.

Chris' mom was taken aback, he was usually so well mannered. A spark of anger flared in her, something she had not felt toward Chris before. In a flash she had grabbed his small wrist firmly and pulled him up. In her heels she towered over him.

"You are coming, now put on your good shorts and a nice shirt right this minute Christopher." She then added, looking hurt, "You have really changed, mister."

Her look made it clear that she was not kidding. Chris was scared, he had hardly ever even been scolded by his mom and couldn't stop the tears from coming in his eyes. He started to cry. He didn't want to cry and tried to hold it back, but couldn't. Soon he was sobbing, so ashamed for being such a baby but more upset that his mom was mad at him. Although they used to be much closer - "best friends" they called each other - he still adored his mom. She was so pretty, and had always been so strong and protective of Chris. He loved her and always wanted to please her more than anything. He now felt suddenly, over this stupid incident, that he had betrayed her.

Seeing him start to cry, Chris' mom felt a pang of sorrow and sat on the bed pulling him next to her. She was at first so surprised that he started crying, she thought maybe he was kidding. She knew he was sensitive, and had cried more than most boys when he was younger, but she had not seen him cry like this for several years. In fact, she had expected a much bigger fight over this, and probably would have eventually given in and let him stay home. What could be worse for a 13-year-old boy than going to a bridal salon and watching girls try on dresses? Now, however, with him close and sobbing, her anger quickly melted away and all she wanted to do was hug and comfort him. She immediately took him in her arms and he put her arms around her neck. Chris immediately felt so good in her hug that he hoped she would never stop. He couldn't help feeling so babyish and safe in her arms and before he knew he said between sobs "Mommy, I am sorry, don't be mad at me, please. I don't want to ever change." He realized he had said mommy but at that moment didn't care. Chris' mom was surprised by the "mommy" but was enjoying the closeness that she hadn't felt with any of her children since Molly was younger. So she began patting his back, and saying, "Baby, its ok, I promise, it won't be so bad. Just think, you will be the only man with all those girls. Your cousin sure has some pretty bridesmaids. I know they will like talking to a big boy like you."

He felt the soft material of her skirt on his leg and her perfume tickled his nose. He felt so safe, and a sudden desire to crawl in her arms and fall asleep swept over him as he continued to weep softly. At the same moment, without any control to stop it, he let out a small amount of warm pee that soaked into his underpants. He really didn't even care if she felt it too. He knew he would feel embarrassed by all this later, but at that moment he just didn't care. He just loved and admired his mom so much, and missed how close they used to be, that nothing could ruin that moment for him. But finally, after a long while, with Chris face still buried in her shoulder and his arms around her neck, she broke off the hug and said, "So, you gonna be our man today? Help us girls out?" Chris, after a final sniff, said he would.

"OK, well, come down when your ready, we will leave in a few moments. I have to go get your sister off the phone, probably need a crow bar." She laughed and Chris responded with a smile. Chris' mom loved his smile, and he could see the face of her sister in his. He was definitely took after her, she thought, looks a lot like me at that age. Nothing like his dad. She left him there, off to get his sister moving.

After she left, Chris sat stunned for a moment. It all flooded into him what just had happened. He had totally threw a hissy fit and cried in front of his mom. He even had called her "mommy" and peed his pants. Chris felt deeply embarrassed but couldn't shake off the warm feeling of being in her arms. He felt he could have stayed there forever. Then he thought of his dad and he panicked. Would his mom tell him? Did she know he peed in his pants? Ugh, if his dad found out he couldn't live with himself. Again he started to scold himself. Why am I such a baby? Why can't I be a man? Why do I act like a dumb baby. A baby girl. When he said it, the familiar tingling came back again. He shut is eyes and began to talk to himself. That is what I am, a baby girl. He pictured himself as a baby girl with pig tails and in a poofy little girly dress. Such a little sissy baby girl. No real boy would cry like that, only baby sissy girls, like me. I am a sissy baby girl, just a sissy baby girl. A girl. A girl. A girl. A sissy girl. And then, when he pictured himself in one of the Molly's first communion dresses, the squishiness in his stomach increased tenfold and he began breathing funny. This scared him and he shut his mind off quickly. He didn't know what happened. He got up and went and changed his urine-soaked underwear and put on his good shorts and a nice shirt like his mom had told him. He finally threw some water on his face and felt a little better.

A few minutes later, he went down to wait in the living room. A certain dread was growing in him over this trip with his sisters. He told himself that it was just having to waste a nice day inside with a bunch of stupid girls but deeper he knew it was more like the uneasy feeling he got in his sister's room. He had never been in a dress shop before, and his mind flashed to the girl areas in department stores and he felt better. I bet I can go over in another section, maybe even a toy section or something. This thought made him feel better, at least he probably wouldn't have to sit and see all the dresses. His mom suddenly came into the living room looking angry again. Chris at first felt that she was mad at him again, but instead she said, "Have you seen Molly, I can't find her anywhere and we have to leave now." Chris said he had not seen here anywhere. His mom looked toward no where in particular and said, "Well, I don't know what we are going to do, she has to try on her dress today, or it can't be altered in time for the wedding. Where is that girl?!"

He Should Have Played Ball - Part 1

Erica Kennel

  

  

  

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© 2004 by Erica Kennel. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.