Marcus and Shane loaded the used baseball equipment into the trunk of Marcus’ dark blue 1998 Ford Thunderbird. His girlfriend Lisa leaned against the car, arms folding, waiting for them to load the trunk, so Shane could climb in the backseat where José sat. All of them were looking forward to this day; they had been planning it for months. They haven’t played a game of softball since middle school. College life had kept them busy. It would be a nice homecoming. Marcus and his group rolled up to the high school’s baseball diamond before Josh and his group did. Josh was to meet them at the diamond with the rest of the players that pooled into his van. Unfortunately, the field was already being used by teenagers; there wasn’t any room for anyone else to form a new game.“Do you know of anywhere else we could play?” Lisa asked Marcus.“We could try my old middle school’s playground. It’s big enough. Let’s swing by to see if it’s empty,” said Marcus. “Just have to call Josh and tell him to meet us there instead.”Marcus drove away and called Josh on his cell phone, informing him of the slight change in plans. Josh agreed to meet at the new location.Owen Junior High was sort of a drive, but it’d be nice to see the old neighborhood, nice to go down memory lane. Marcus wanted to catch a glimpse of the spot where his childhood house once stood, which was directly across the street from the playground. He hadn’t been in that part of the city in years.To get to the old neighborhood, Marcus would have to drive underneath the aging overpass that was built next to the once-inhabited train station. In its prime, back in the fifties, the station was busy with the hustle and bustle of travelers that took the Amtrak train from Detroit to other parts of the country. The tracks were rumored to be cursed. Many accidents occurred on those tracks; as a result the station closed in the early seventies. One particularly tragic accident took place right atop the railway bridge. Over 70 people were killed in the collision. It was an ugly scene; something to haunt the dreams of those witnessed the tragedy for many years to come.The Thunderbird entered the shadowy underpass of the viaduct. There were no lights underneath and the street was riddled with potholes that city officials had long forgotten about. Marcus slowed down to avoid damaging to his car’s axles.“I don’t like the dark,” said Jose in a soft voice. “We’ll be fine,” Lisa said. “We’ll be out from under here in a minute”Jose was the only one of them not attending U of M. He was large guy, “big boned” as they say in this age of being PC. Yet he was a kindhearted, simple fellow, despite the fact he was a little slow. Marcus, Lisa, and Shane were his best friends. They never made fun of him when he was a kid. Despite Jose’s academic disability, he could play a game of softball. He was strong and could knock a ball into next week.The light of day shined at the end of the tunnel. Though not as bright as before, almost drab. But at least it was light, all of them thought. When the car emerged from underneath the bridge, the world was different, dull even. The sky was dreary and grey. Buildings were dim and nearly colorless. Grass and leaves were very lackluster, like the dye that had faded from a vibrant garment washed too many times.“It’s gonna rain. I know it,” said Shane. “No it’s not, there’s not a cloud in the sky,” Marcus replied.All of them looked out of the car windows and up at the sky. Marcus was right.Marcus drove, turning down side-street after side-street, as if in a maze. Moments later they approached the school. It looked the same, except for its gloomy facade. Marcus felt like he was a little kid again.He parked the car directly across the street from the empty playground, right in front of the spot where the house he used to live in once stood. All that was there now was a vacant lot surrounded by rusted-out houses on either side. The block looked like a lower jaw with a missing tooth.Marcus, Lisa, Jose and Shane each carried a piece of equipment across the street to the grassless field. There was no diamond or bases in the playground so they made due with what they could find. A couple of old red bricks made a good homeplate and first base. A faded, used baseball mitt made a perfect second. And an old folded newspaper with a rock as paperweight would do well for third.They warmed up. Shane and Jose played catch. Marcus practiced his swing as Lisa pitched. The silent yet staccato VVVRRR VVVRRR of Marcus’ cell phone vibrated in his front pocket, interrupting practice. It was Josh. Marcus answered still holding the bat in one hand.“Hello?” “Where are you, Marc?”“We’re at the old playground.”Josh paused. “At Owen Junior High?”“Yeah, where are you guys?”“We’re at the playground. I don’t see you.”“We’re right in the middle of the field. We set up bases and are warming up.”“In the middle of the field? Are you at the playground at the corner of 15th and Ash?” asked Josh.Marcus looked up and to his left at the street signs on the corner.
“Yep,” he replied.“Well, we’re right here, we don’t see you,” said Josh, confused.Marcus looked around he saw no one. Not a soul except the friends who came with him. The streets were empty. No pedestrians. No cars. Not a bird flew overhead. Not a squirrel scurried. Marcus thought that perhaps there was another 15th and Ash somewhere in the city. No. That was impossible. He scanned the area and saw something that wasn’t there before. His house.Marcus hung up the phone without a word, staring off in the distance. His old house stood there just as he remembered it, a light green color with white trim, and a wraparound porch painted white. Marcus walked silently toward the chain link fence. The others noticed his change in demeanor.“What’s wrong, Marc?” Lisa said.He didn’t answer.Jose and Shane dropped the mitts and softball. They all saw what Marcus was looking at: A house that wasn’t there moments ago. They moved closer to get a better look. The group stopped at the chain link fence and gazed quietly at the house, wondering how it could appear from nowhere.“That house wasn’t there before,” said Jose, breaking the silence.“No… it wasn’t,” said Marcus, almost an afterthought, his voice distant.“It had to be,” said Shane. “We just didn’t notice it.“No, it wasn’t,” said Lisa, “I would have remembered a house with a wraparound porch like that.”“It had to be there. Houses don’t build themselves,” retorted Shane.“My house burned down fifteen years ago. I know because I did it. I was playing with matches in bed when I was ten. It’s not supposed to be there,” said Marcus, with both hands gripping the fence so tight that his knuckles were turning white. The sound of a fidgeting doorknob from across the street got the group’s attention. The door of the green house opened. Out came a woman with long dark brown hair and glasses. She was holding a broom and began to sweep the porch.“Mom?” said Marcus, under his breath.“That cannot be your mom,” said Lisa.“It looks like your ma,” said Jose.“It does look like your mom, Marc. Fifteen years younger and twenty pounds lighter,” Shane said. “We took a wrong turn somewhere. I think it’s time to go home.”“This has got to be a joke,” said Marcus.“Joke or no joke, what we’re seeing isn’t right. Let’s just get out of here,” said Lisa.
