“Second Guess:” a flash fiction story

This is one I wrote earlier this month based on prompts.

Thank god the World Series was over!

Gerry wished his boys had won—the other team had better pitching; he admitted it—but between the extra reporters, television cameras, and fans, all demanding interviews, giving unsolicited advice, knocking his decisions… sheesh.

Now he could escape.

After Gerry’s final press conference for the season, he and Leah packed their things and hightailed out of town. 

No cell phones.

Laptops back home.

Location a secret.

Three years ago, when he had signed his contract, they bought this cabin, sixty miles away in the mountains. Not much space, but it was theirs, and no one else was around.

On the first full day of their vacation, Leah suggested they go hiking. The redwoods stretched toward the clouds like giant’s legs out of some myth. The leaves were red, orange and gold. The only sounds for miles were the birds’ whistles to each other.

Gerry sighed. If only he had brought in Okamoto during the seventh inning instead of the eighth in Game One. His starting pitcher might not have given up the tying run when he did.

Leah agreed—she had seen almost every game this season and knew how Gerry’s mind functioned when it came to strategy—but right now, who cared? He had spent over eight months on nothing but work. This time was theirs.

The next day, he wanted to fish. The blue-green lake made small ripples beneath an overcast sky.

He shouldn’t have called for the hit-and-run with Allerton at the plate in Game Three. The opportunity to score seemed perfect, though.

Damn, why couldn’t he put the game aside for a couple of weeks? Leah said he was a knucklehead for using it against the left-handed pitcher, too, but Gerry had all winter to ponder his mistakes. She had tolerated his time spent on the road, his obsessing over roster changes, his scouting reports. When did she get attention?

A few days later, a cold spell entered. The wind kicked up its heels and it rained for three days in a row. 

Gerry cooked dinner. They ate by the fireplace in easy chairs. Oh, he felt that heat down to his toes.

He should’ve started the rookie when Maldonado got hurt in Game Six…

What was the matter with him? Even Leah had the numbers to justify putting the rookie in the lineup, but at the time Gerry had believed otherwise. He had neglected his wife for too long. She was here, now, and they were together, by themselves. He would give her the quality time she lacked. She deserved it.

The next morning Gerry woke up alone. Leah left a note by her pillow. She had gone into the nearby town to use their Internet cafe.

She wanted to review the stats from the World Series.