Indian Lover
Naked cheerleaders are spaced along the baselines, stirring the crowd to a fighting frenzy. The band is in rank and file in the outfield, playing stirring tunes, until suddenly all falls silent.In the shadows of the trees that border center field, I am already mounted on Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great's war horse. Daddy is on my right, holding the as-yet unlighted flare. Stephanie is to my left, steadying Bucephalus, holding his bridle."And ACTION!" calls the director, metaphorically speaking, because all of this is being run by cues and, I might add, without rehearsal, so only God himself knew if it was going to go off without a hitch, and He wasn't talking.With an abrupt crash of cymbals, drums rum-tum-tumming, the band splits, the two halves swinging smoothly to form an aisle from center field toward the pitcher's mound with its ten foot pile of scrap wood and old furniture that is The Bonfire to Be.The drums fall silent. There's a breathless hush.A lone, muted. I handed her one of the mugs I had filled, she sniffed warily at it before taking a sip, a surprised look on her face, it tasted remarkably like coffee although I had no idea what it really was.Then I heard the first voice spoken to me in so many years, “Do you speak English? Who are you? Where do you come from?”I struggled to form the words, to say my name. “L-L-Laura.” I stammered and then I started to cry, it was the first time that I had cried since I buried my parents near the beach so long ago.I felt her arms around me, holding me tight as I cried, I clung to her as she whispered in my ear, soothing me until I quietened, “My name’s Elizabeth,” she told me, “ it’s okay Laura, I’ve got you.”“Please tell me what year is it?” I asked her.“1864, July.”For a minute, I thought, I wasn’t used to doing sums anymore, “My God, I’ve been here eight years then. Do you know the date?”Elizabeth had to think as she worked out the date, “It’s the 21st today, why, is it important?”“Yes, it’s my.
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