Fantasies
Linda Hudson Hoagland, North Tazewell, VA
Walking around the pitcher’s mound kicking at the loose dirt, the pitcher for our team was awaiting the delayed call.
“Strike one,” came the shout from the umpire of the game being played by the Bluefield Orioles, the Rookie Division of the Baltimore Orioles Baseball Team.
“What’s the matter, Ump? Can’t you see very good? Do you want to borrow my glasses?” shouted Sonny from the box seat he and his wife were using thanks to the kindness and generosity of Patty and Randy who owned the local music store.
Ellen tried to ignore the shouts of her noisy husband. She knew that people would be staring at them and singling them out in the crowd if he continued shouting disparaging words to the umpire.
Ellen didn’t want to be singled out and pointed at because Tom was at the game. She didn’t want him to see her, not because of anything that she had done wrong. She didn’t want him to see her because she always felt guilty and sinful and really, really bad when she laid eyes on him.
In her twisted little mind, Ellen thought that if Tom didn’t acknowledge her existence, then she wouldn’t have to face facts about her fantasy life. He never did acknowledge her presence at any function where they were both in attendance probably because she averted her eyes every time she saw him. She could feel herself turning red from the top of her head to the tip of her toes from embarrassment for the thought she had hidden away in the most secret places of her mind.
“Aw, come on, Ump. That wasn’t a strike. The boy is six feet tall, not a midget. The ball was at his ankles,” shouted Sonny as he heckled the umpire.
“Sonny, don’t do that,” said Ellen as she tried to keep him quiet and not the center of unwanted attention.
“It’s all in fun, Ellen.”
“Please don’t yell at the umpire,” Ellen pleaded as she tugged at his shirt sleeve to get his full attention.
“Why not?”
“People are looking at us.”
“So?”
“I don’t like that.”
“All right, all right, but you take all the fun out of it,” said a sullen Sonny.
Sonny wasn’t doing anything that others weren’t doing. Many of the people in attendance, male and female, growled and groused at the umpire for calls against their team whether it was the visitors or the home team.
Ellen glanced at the occupants in the box seat four boxes away from where she and Sonny were sitting.
She breathed a little easier when she saw that he wasn’t looking at her. Tom was looking straight ahead of him towards the ball field where he should be looking.
She knew the request she made for Sonny to be quiet would put a damper on any conversation between the two of them. The quiet time would allow her to escape into her dreams and fantasies.
There was a woman sitting next to Tom whom Ellen did not know and was certainly glad she didn’t know her. Instead, in her dreams, Ellen was sitting next to Tom, keeping him company, and enjoying his presence.
These fantasies went all the way back fifteen years when she first moved to Virginia from Ohio.
Ellen had taken a job working in a bank that was locally owned. She started out as a file clerk but was pushed rapidly toward the mortgage loan department where it became her responsibility to accept and process applications for people seeking loans to buy or refinance their homes.
It wasn’t a job Ellen couldn’t handle, but it was a large responsibility for a person who had just moved into the area and had accepted a job as a file clerk.
Tom was the lawyer for the bank. His office was located twenty miles further north on Route 460 so Ellen and Tom had a lot of telephone conversations.
“Hi, Tom, how are you doing?’
“I’m doing everybody and anything I can. How are things shaking with you?”
Most of the conversations consisted of teasing and innuendo along with some business.
They each knew they could take whatever the other dished out and then dish it back in spades.
There would come a day when they would have to look at each other face to face, but until them, they enjoyed the little digs that were zinged at each other.
She knew he fantasized as much as she did about their meeting someday but as long as it remained unsaid, then everything was fine and no thoughts about the consequences of such a meeting had to be faced.
“Ellen, would you like to go out to dinner some evening?” asked a humble sounding Tom.
There it was.
It was the question that she wanted to hear only in her fantasies. Reality struck Ellen in the face and took away her humor and fun not to mention the fantasy.
She wanted to tell him “sure, I’d love to go”, but she couldn’t. She had a loving, wonderful husband at home who didn’t deserve the kind of hurt and punishment the simple word “yes” could cause.
She hesitated too long before she could force herself to answer Tom’s dinner invitations.
“Ellen, are you still there?”
“Yes, Tom, I’m still here.”
“Will you? Will you go to dinner with me?”
“I’d love to go to dinner with you but I can’t.”
“We don’t have to go tonight,” continued Tom.
“I can’t go to dinner with you ever. I’m married, Tom. I know I never told you that and I’m sorry. I really should have. I never knew if you were married but, then again, I didn’t ask. I guess I didn’t want to know. It was easier to joke around with you if I thought it was safe.”
“I’m not married, Ellen. I’m sorry that you are. I really think we would have had a great time. But, don’t let that worry you, okay? Just forget that I asked.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Ellen’s conversations with Tom were never the same, happy-go-lucky, carefree talks that she had enjoyed prior to the dreaded question.
Ellen’s fantasies never died. She would put them on a shelf occasionally but they would always stay with her in her heart.
On a particularly bad day, she would locate the fantasy, bring it to life, and dream about being Mrs. Tom.
Then she would smile.
“Strike two,” shouted the umpire.
Ellen returned from her fantasy world.
“Forget about what I said, Sonny. Just enjoy the game,” she said as she sneaked a peek at Tom and his woman who was his wife.
