The Hitting Zone

Noah was great at catching. His reflexes were quick no matter how fast Kyle threw. He knew the standard pitching signals so there was clear communication between the two. After thirty pitches, Kyle switched with Dave. Kyle went off to the side and started doing squats, probably to build up leg strength.

I watched them all. Observing the differences and changes that the twins were working on in their pitching was like a mental game for me.

Occasionally, I would see a very good pitch and wonder if I would have connected. Then I would see an easy pitch that I could probably hit out of the park. I didn't say much and just steadily watched until Zeke brought us lunch. I guess he and Dad had to leave at some point and brought back fast food since Mom was working an open house.

It was a good feeling to return some normalcy. No camps, no teamwork needed, and no real sense of schedule. We just did what we wanted until it was time to move on.

Dave kept his word, driving us to The Cages in the afternoon. He chose to stay with us, taking a few rounds in the cages himself. He wasn't great like Garret, but he did have a steady swing. I think if he worked on it, he could easily be a better batter on our team. Guess he just likes pitching more.

Monday followed the same routine of the twins practicing their pitching. Noah and I running on our own. And Dad and Zeke finishing up on the closet, while Mom continued to work away from home. Dave took us to The Cages again while Kyle chose to meet up with Marie.

Tuesday morning was different though. It was the day I got to have my scar removal laser treatment.

Everyone had showed up to the table for breakfast, giving me the feeling that we were going to school or something.

"Are you nervous?" Dave asked me.

I shook my head. "Not really." Then I thought about how the doctor would have to see all my scars out in the open. "Maybe a little." I put my bagel down, not feeling so hungry anymore.

"You're making him nervous." Noah accused Dave. He looked at me. "Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

"I'm sure." I nodded. If I could, I'd go alone. I'll have to settle going with Dad though.

"We'll all be home, waiting for you." Mom smiled at me.

I scrunched up my nose. "You don't have to."

"Jake will probably need rest afterwards." Dad said. "Let's not overwhelm him."

"What do you think I should make for dinner?" Mom asked.

Dad looked to me. "What do you want to eat tonight, Jake? You get to pick."

"Soup." I said.

"What kind?"

I shrugged. "Any kind. I'm not picky."

"Do tomato soup and grilled cheese!"

"Potato cheese soup with cornbread!"

"No, no, clam chowder! It's been so long."

Noah and the twins started to argue over what soup should be served tonight for dinner.

Mom knocked against the table. "Jake gets to pick."

All eyes went to me.

"Umm." I pointed at Dave, picking his suggestion. "Tomato soup with grilled cheese."

"Yes!" Dave pumped his fists.

No one was particularly upset by my choice. It's not like you can hate on grilled cheese.

Everyone followed Dad and I to his car. It's almost like they thought I was going away for a long period of time.

I cracked a smile and reassured them. "I'll see you guys later."

"Text me on your way back!" Noah instructed as he waved.

Dad started to drive, taking us all the way to Dr. Griffiths office. The nurse greeted us with a smile and took us to the examination room, instructing me to take my shirt off and wipe down with these special wipes.

Dad looked at me. "Need me to step out and give you privacy?"

I nodded.

He and the nurse both left me in the room alone. I took my shirt off and started to clean my body, but came to a stop when I realized I couldn't do my whole back.

I took deep breaths before opening the door a crack. "Dad..?"

"Done?" Dad asked lightly.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I can't do my whole back. Can you do it for me?"

"Sure."

I stepped back to allow him to enter, then turned around.

I could hear him opening a new wipe, then felt him wipe down the parts I couldn't reach. Thankfully he said nothing. He must be accustomed to the way I look by now. Or he knows that nothing needs to be said. We all felt something about these scars, but today was the first step in starting anew.

Dr. Griffiths came in alone, without the nurse, and greeted both Dad and myself. He had me lay down and started to introduce the tools that he would be using against my scars. "Now, remember, these scars aren't going away immediately. Basically, we're creating a new scar on top of the old one to even it out and hopefully it'll heal to match the new skin tone."

"You'll be in pain so make sure to take some generic painkillers as needed." He continued to advise me. "It's almost comparable to a sunburn. Try not to move too much these next couple of days. Stay out of the sun. In three or four days, you can resume all your normal activities. We'll have a checkup in a couple of months to see when to plan the next treatment."

I nodded. This wasn't a one and done situation. He already told me last time that it might take a couple of laser treatments to get to where I want to be. That's okay.

Dr. Griffiths turned the machine on and got to work. The pain was bearable for me. Kind of like pokes with a needle. He took quite a long time since there were so many scars and constantly asked me if I needed a break. But I was fine. I was good. And most importantly, I was eager. Eager to see what I would look like.

"Okay. That's it." Dr. Griffiths finished the final touches, putting a cream to promote healing on the areas he worked on. "Remember, no high-leveled activity. Keep these wounds clean and let them breathe so no tight clothing. Call me if you think there are any signs of infection. I'm talking pus, high fever, and generally not feeling good."

I got up and my whole body ached. "Can I see?"

He looked surprised. "Do you want to?"

I nodded.

"Most patients want to wait a few days of healing before looking, but yea, you can go look." He pointed to a long mirror on one of the walls.

I went over and examined myself. I was red. And swollen. I definitely didn't look good. It was hard to see what the new me would look like. For now...I looked like a lobster.

"Don't be upset, Jake." Dad tried to comfort me. "You'll look better in a week. In a month. And then after another round-"

"I'm okay." I told him, smiling. "I know...it'll be awhile. I just wanted to see what it would look like now. To attack the scars that have been attacking me."

Dad reached out and messed up my hair.