“Pretty scary neighborhood you’re taking us through, Halpert.”

“You know, for a girl who just got her tea paid for, you sure do complain a lot.” I give her a smile to assure her I’m kidding because, really, I’d buy her a thousand cinnamon apple teas if that’s what she really wanted. Hell, I’ll plant an apple tree in her front yard and grow cinnamon sticks if…okay, maybe that’s a little excessive.

“I just don’t want our time cut short.” Her words have an unexpected sting to them, and from the shock on her face, she realizes the implications of what she’s said.

“No, just because, someone could like…shank us or something.”

“Shank us? Beesly, have you been playing Grand Thef Auto behind my back?” I save the moment because there’s no time to be awkward. She looks relieved.

“Just trying to get some street cred.”

“Uh huh. Oh hey, we’re here.” I try to push the metal gate open, but it’s tightly locked with a number of chains.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath, scanning the darkness for another way in.

“Are we…”

“Questions later, Pam. We’re going to have to climb over.” With little trouble, I scale the metal gate and hop over to the other side, Pam’s astounded face staring back at me through the wires.

“Are you crazy? How am I supposed to get over there in this?” She gestures to her dress, which is catching the little light that’s around and I have to keep myself from staring.

“It’s not that high. Just get to the top and I’ll help you down.”

She rolls her eyes and carefully begins to climb. “If this thing rips, you owe me a new dress.”

“Deal.” I move towards the gate, watching her every move to make sure she doesn’t misstep. She finally makes it to the top, swinging her legs around and holding on to the gate for dear life.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” I place my hands firmly on her hips while she grips my shoulders. Soon all her body weight has shifted on to me and I gently place her down on the ground. We stay like that for just a beat too long, till finally we break apart and smooth out the wrinkles in our clothes.

“We’re going to have to do that to get back out, aren’t we?”

“Mhmm.” It’s probably wrong that I’m looking forward to it. I really don’t care. “Okay, here we are.”

“A baseball field?” she asks, taking in her surroundings.

“Not just any baseball field. Young Jim spent a lot of summers here.”

“Little league?”

“No, just with my dad and brother,” I begin, moving towards the center of the diamond. “We’d throw the ball around for hours and then he’d always take us for hot dogs afterwards.”

“How very Norman Rockwell of you,” she says grinning.

“Thank you. Have a seat,” I say, as I plant myself on the pitcher’s mound.

“But that’s dirt.”

“I’m aware.

“You’re going to get your pants dirty!”

“So? I’ll wash them. The bleachers are right over there if you want to stay dirt-free.”

She makes a grunt of annoyance but still sits down beside me. Minutes go by in silence, the peaceful warm summer air and the sound of crickets chirping lull us into a quiet calm.

“This is nice,” she says finally.

“It doesn’t get much better.” I continue to stare at home plate, even when I feel her head turn towards me in peaked curiosity.

“So why here?”

“I’ve always—“ and I catch myself. In reality, I’d always wanted to take her here. I thought it’d make a good third date; coming here in the evening with a blanket and a cooler full of snacks and drinks. We’d lay out and huddle next to each other, trying to look for stars that are invisible next to the bright lights of the stadium. But we’d point up anyway and make up names of fake constellations.

“—just loved this place. Brings back a lot of good memories.”

“Hmm.” She looks away from me and plays with a few blades of grass.

“And now I get to add one more.” I finally look at her and am glad to discover that she’s smiling; a little embarrassed maybe, but happy.

“Okay, most embarrassing moment in sports. Go.” She wraps her arms around her knees and rests her head on them as she looks at me with genuine interest.

“I think it’s a fair toss-up between kicking the ball in the wrong goal when I was ten.”

“No way!”

“That was the end of that soccer career. Or accidentally crashing into the row of cheerleaders while trying to catch a pass at the junior homecoming basketball game.”

“Sure. ‘Accidentally.’”

“Mock all you want, I did not intend to do that.”

“Was one of them Katy?” She has a teasing tone in her voice, and I look over at her with a grin.

“I doubt it.”

“That’s a shame.” She ducks her head into her arms to try and hide a smile, but I don’t let her off that easily.

“Whoa. Not exactly a fan of hers, were you Beesly?”

Pam shrugs innocently. “I appreciated her fine sales skills.”

“Worst compliment ever,” I tease, gently nudging my shoulder into hers.

“I know, I’m sorry. She just…I never quite got you two.” She stares at me with a look of deep concentration, in clear anticipation of a response.

“I never did either. She was cute and all, but…” I let the sentence die right there, though the words “I’m more into the artsy type” are dangerously ready to leave my lips at any moment.

“Maybe you’ll meet some cute Connecticut girl.” She says it pleasantly, except for the word “some” which she spits out like it’s poison.

I try to think of some witty comeback, but the thought of there being someone else, someone other than the woman beside me kills all the humor in me.

So I just stick with: “I doubt it.”

Quiet takes over, and we sit in companionable silence for what seems like ages. Our shoes are dusty, my legs are asleep and I can feel yawns fighting their way out. But I push it all back because there’s still a lot to cover and I’m not about to back out now just because of a little fatigue.

“Ready?” I ask, bouncing up onto my feet in hopes of boosting a little adrenaline.

“Yep.” She holds out her hands to me and I pull her up in one swift motion. A small jolt of energy rushes through me from our clasped hands and I realize that this is what keeps me going. Not just tonight, but for the countless hours spent trudging through a dead-end job. She’s all the motivation I need, and it’s terrifying to think of moving on without that.

“Alright Beesly, it’s your call,” I say as we sink back into the car. “Where am I off to?”

She laughs and runs a hand across her head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Good answer.” I turn on the engine and start to drive in an unknown direction, certain that neither one of us is too concerned about which way we’re going. The point is that we’re just going.

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