Chapter 3: Summer Nights

ARTIE

Artie blushed profusely when Griffin shared that he was his role model. Artie usually hated when people said things like that– getting told he was 'so inspiring' while he was just living his day-to-day life and doing the things he needed to do made him uncomfortable (because what was he supposed to respond to that?!). But to hear his older brother say such things felt completely different than being the subject of a stranger's unwelcome gaze and well-meaning-but-ultimately-offensive comment. Griffin's words held a lot of weight in Artie's mind.

It was strange, to hear firsthand how the accident that had changed his own life forever had subsequently impacted his brother. It had always seemed like an unspoken rule within their family that the tail end of 2002 and much of 2003 were years that were too taboo to reflect on. Up until now, the brothers had never talked this openly about that period of their lives before. Hearing Griffin speak about it was refreshing, and Artie could see now why this parent-mandated sibling bonding night was so important. He felt like he understood Griffin– somebody he'd lived with his entire life– so much better.

"I'm sorry you went through all of that, G. I had no idea. And, for whatever it's worth, you did just fine at setting a good example for Ella and me to follow," Artie assured him. "I really did want to be just like you while I was growing up, even if some of the bars you set were impossibly high."

An expression of relief came over Griffin's face and his mouth twitched upward into a half-smile that Artie gladly returned. Though it had been frustrating at times, watching things that Artie couldn't do himself come so easily to his brother, Griffin's unconditional support and encouragement in everything Artie did do made up for it all.

Everything that Griffin had shared earlier had been news to Artie. He didn't make it a point to talk openly about that time of his life with anyone, and it hadn't really occurred to him that Griffin would have had his own struggles stemming from that period of time. He didn't know that his older brother had developed debilitating anxiety after the accident which had caused him to struggle in school, or that he always felt this unattainable pressure to be perfect. In a sense, Artie had just thought that he was born that way, that everything came easily to his conventionally attractive, athletic, genuinely kind older brother. But now he was aware of all of the nights that Griffin had stayed up worrying himself sick about setting a good example, or about how he wasn't able to protect his siblings from the cruelties of the world. It made Artie sad on his behalf.

There was one thing in particular that Griffin had shared, however, that had surprised Artie by evoking an overwhelming emotional effect within him that he just couldn't shake.

"Baseball reminds me of you too," Artie told him honestly. He forced himself to smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. Artie knew he wasn't the most skilled at hiding his emotions and that the others would be able to read him like a book and see through the emotional façade he was putting up. Because, even after all these years, it was still difficult for Artie to articulate the complexity of what these old memories felt like for him.

"It does?" Griffin blinked, clearly surprised that those memories were of importance to Artie as well, even after all these years.

"There are some difficult memories, of course, but those pale in comparison to the good ones," Artie said. "And even though you stopped playing after I got hurt, I'll never forget the first time you invited me to play a game outside with you after the accident."

Lima, Ohio

July 2003

Artie and Griffin were sprawled out on the couch side by side on a lazy Saturday afternoon, watching cartoons and waiting until dinner was ready. After they finished their third straight Pelswick rerun, Griffin seemed to have decided that he couldn't take it anymore. He reached for the remote control and turned the television off.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?!" Artie protested. He wanted to see what would happen when Pelswick and his bully Boyd were paired together for the science fair.

"I've already seen this one. Plus, aren't you bored? All we've done today is watch TV," The elder brother said, leaving Artie to shrug.

"I guess."
"Let's do something," Griffin announced, standing up and facing Artie, who still lay on the couch. "Want to go outside and play ball?"

Artie raised his eyebrows and shook his head, thinking that his brother must have been kidding. Griff wasn't usually one to play this kind of cruel joke on him, but Artie couldn't be sure.

"Baseball," Griffin clarified, as if that was why Artie was confused. "You know, get the gloves and bat from the garage and play out in the front yard…"

"Griff, I can't–"

"Sure you can," Griffin insisted. "Come on, let me show you. Let's play."

Artie knew better than to say no to Griffin, but he was still hesitant as he pulled his chair closer and checked that the brakes were securely locked. Using a meticulous series of well-practiced maneuvers, he shifted himself carefully from his spot on the couch to his waiting chair. It had been almost eight months since the accident, and in that time, he'd gotten pretty good at transfers. It'd been a while since he missed and fell, landing on his bottom on the floor in an embarrassing heap.

He made this transfer easily and adjusted his legs to make sure that they were resting squarely on the footrest. His physical therapist had stressed the importance of this, saying that since he couldn't feel his feet, he wouldn't know if one fell off the footrest and began to drag. Artie thought that this situation sounded scary, so he'd done everything in his power to prevent it from happening, including doing frequent checks on his lower half, and making sure that everything was positioned as it should be.

Artie followed Griffin outside, rolling down the new ramp that led from the front door to the paved walkway which had been installed at the first sign of spring.

"I'm gonna run and get the equipment," Griffin told him as Artie nodded and began the arduous task of pushing his chair over the bumpy terrain of their suburban front yard. He didn't have much experience wheeling over grass yet, and it was more difficult than he expected. He had no idea how this game was going to play out if he could hardly even move on this surface without finding it strenuous.

Griffin returned then, his arms filled with a metal baseball bat, two leather gloves, and three beat-up baseballs. "What do you say, Art, want to field or bat first?"
Artie only shrugged and adjusted the way the frames of his glasses were sitting on his nose. He didn't have much of an opinion on anything these days, he was just grateful and beside himself that his older brother thought to ask him to play (and believed that he could play) in the first place.

"Well, I want to pitch," Griffin said, tossing one of the baseballs up in the air and seamlessly catching it in the hand wearing the glove. "Roger Clemens is from Ohio, you know. And he's gonna be an All-Star this year."

Griffin backed up and took his position at the imaginary pitcher's mound and prepared to send his brother a pitch, as Artie locked his brakes and gripped the bat, resting it on his right shoulder.

After swinging at and epically missing the first several balls Griffin threw, Artie began to grow aggravated. Due to the damage that had been done to his spinal cord, the amount of trunk control he had been left with was still taking some getting used to. It made it difficult for Artie to nail the timing of swinging the bat at just the right moment in order to make contact with the ball the way he'd like to. It was also hard for him to keep his balance, with his lower half feeling numb. His frustration grew as he discovered yet another thing that had once been easy for him that was now hard in the wake of the accident. He was finding that this was a common occurrence these days: bending down to tie his shoes, getting dressed, going to the bathroom on his own, swinging a baseball bat… the list went on and on. As an able-bodied kid, he'd taken for granted the simplicity of all of these things. Those tasks tended to be mind-numbingly difficult these days, and frustration had begun to build up inside of him until it felt like Artie was going to scream or explode, whichever came first.

But through all of this, Griffin was patient. He was always patient.

"I can't do this!" Artie yelled, slamming the metal bat on the ground and almost losing his balance in the process. "I hate baseball!"

"Hey, Art, it's okay," Griffin said, tossing his glove on the grass. "I have an idea. I'll be right back."

He ran off towards the garage again, leaving an anger-filled Artie sitting alone in the front yard.

Griffin returned a minute later, holding the plastic tee they would hit baseballs off of as kids. Artie immediately began shaking his head.

"No, Griffin, I don't want to use that," Artie protested. "It's for babies. For kids like Ella's age. I don't need that."

"I know you don't need it," Griffin assured him. "But it's been a while since you played. You're just a bit rusty, is all. Once you warm back up and remember what it feels like, I'm sure everything will come back to you. Let's start off easy, okay?"

Artie thought about it for a minute before conceding.

"Alright," Artie grumbled. It was very hard to be angry when his brother was so calm and unbothered by the little setback they'd encountered.

Griffin put the tee in front of Artie and placed a baseball on top before returning to his imaginary pitcher's mound.

"Whenever you're ready."

"Hold on," Artie said, putting the bat down and leaning it up against the frame of his chair before leaning down and lifting his right foot off of the footrest and firmly planting it on the grass, figuring it may give him a bit of leverage when swinging. Artie could feel Griffin watching him do this, but neither of them said anything. Artie knew that watching him move his leg with his hands was still unnatural for him to see, and truthfully, it was still unnatural for Artie to do. He adjusted his foot again, and took a few practice swings, testing out the way that it felt.

"Okay, here goes…"

"Even though I was frustrated with myself and with the way that my body wasn't responding to me the way I was used to, I was just so grateful that you still treated me like a normal freakin' person," Artie told Griffin, but he made sure to look at Ella too. "Sometimes it felt like you guys were the only ones. For a while, even Mom and Dad acted like every little thing was going to hurt me. Like I was going to break. And, yeah, you can both be a little overprotective, too, but it doesn't bother me that much. I know that's just how you show that you care about me. I didn't go back to school until the next year, but even when I'd go to the grocery store with Mom, I felt different. People stared. And you guys never made anything weird."

Artie swallowed hard then, willing himself not to start crying right here in this bowling alley.

"I can't tell you how much it meant– how much it still means– to me that you never made me feel like I wasn't just a normal kid. None of you did. Even you, Sebastian," Artie cracked a smile as he said that, and Sebastian grinned. "Especially you. Not a day has gone by since we first met that I have ever felt like you were going easy on me because of the chair. And you know what? Thank you."

Sebastian may have been a perpetual pain in his ass over the past few months, but at least he hadn't coddled him. For that, Artie could be thankful.

"You're welcome!" Sebastian laughed, 'cheers'-ing his soda with Artie's.

"Do you remember what happened next?" Griffin asked with a knowing smirk, the sequence of events of this particular story coming back to him now too.

"Of course I do," Artie matched his smile and nodded. "Dad came home."

As Artie prepared to swing, he saw a familiar silver SUV pull into the driveway.

"Dad's home!" Artie gasped, he and Griffin sporting the same giddy facial expressions.

The Cleveland Indians had been on a long away game streak over the last two weeks, and due to his job as a hitting coach for the team, Art Abrams had been traveling with them. Both of the Abrams boys were overjoyed to have their father home after such a long business trip.

"Hey boys, whatcha playin'?" Art called as he stepped out of his car and leaned against the driver's side door, watching his sons in the yard. It was just like old times, before the world as they knew it had come crashing down.

"Ball!" Griffin happily replied. "I'm Roger Clemens and he's Barry Bonds!"

"Look at you, Artie Man!" Art said, giving his son a thumbs up. "It's good to see you back out here having fun."

When Artie turned around in his seat to flash his father a grin over his shoulder, he could see by the way Art had swallowed hard that, behind his steely smile and slightly watery eyes, there was something he wasn't saying.

"Ready, Artie?" Griffin asked, effectively regaining Artie's attention. Artie nodded and raised the bat over his shoulder again. "Here's the one-two pitch!"

Griffin pretended to pitch a ball towards home plate, and at just the right moment, Artie thwacked the ball off of the tee, sending it soaring in the air across the lawn.

"And it's gooooooone!" Griffin cheered. "It's a game-winning homer for Artie Abrams! And the crowd goes wild!"

"Hey, that's my boy, Artie! Look at you!" Art clapped as Artie's jaw dropped and he flashed his father a look of surprise before it turned into a gleeful grin that showed off his missing baby teeth.

Artie pulled his foot back onto the footrest and unlocked his brakes before Griff could run over to him and take control of his chair, giving him a helpful, enthusiastic push around the imaginary bases on their front lawn. Art continued to cheer from the sidelines as Artie's face flushed bright pink with excitement.

When they finally reached home plate, Griffin stopped running, and out of breath, he went in for a high five, but Artie did him one better. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Griffin's waist, and pressed his face into his older brother's torso. Griffin enveloped Artie in a huge hug, and they stayed that way for a while.

"Thank you, Griff," Artie said honestly, and for the first time in a while, things felt normal. It was a new normal– one that he was still getting used to– but it was normal, all the same.

Artie was right where he needed to be.