Page 40 of The Battery
Leo had already recovered from the quick flash of annoyance. He walked beside the man, who didn’t seem to have a lot of trouble with his walker, as they advanced fully into the kitchen. “This is Cody. One of the Riders’ relief pitchers.”
This Uncle Andy of Leo’s made his way to me and thrust his hand out for me to shake. “Andreas Papadopoulos. Leo’s uncle. You can call me Andy.”
I didn’t squeeze Andy’s hand too hard. The shake was noticeably weak. “Nice to meet you, Andy.” He hit me with a friendly smile. All of Leo’s facial features were there and if I tried, I could overlay the two and imagine what genuine elation would look like on Leo’s face.
“What are we drinking?” he asked and turned to look at the counter.
“Absolutely not, Uncle Andy,” Leo said, still not leaving the man’s side. He looked frail, true, but his footsteps were sure and his use of the walker strong.
“Ah, c’mon, kiddo, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides, might be a chance the cancer cellshateliquor.”
I watched Leo as Andy spoke. Tiny micro-flashes of pain.
I was starting to piece things together.
“Let’s get you back to your room,” Leo said as he gripped the walker and made to turn it around.
Andy elbowed Leo’s arm out of the way. “Leonidas,” he said in warning. Leo held up his hands in defeat.
“Then we’re sitting somewhere more comfortable,” Leo said.
Andy spun his body toward the sliding glass doors that led to the four-season porch. “Outside we go, kiddo. I think you said you two were gonna throw. Help me out. That patio is beautiful and I never sit in it.”
Resigned to his uncle’s demands, Leo told me to grab our drinks as he helped Andy through the porch, down a couple of stairs, and out onto the cushioned, wicker furniture at the corner of the pool. He set up an umbrella for shade while I got a couple of gloves and balls for us to play in the long stretch of grass abutting the fencing.
“Relief pitcher, eh?” Andy asked. I stood closest to him while we threw.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I caught a light toss from Leo. “Started in March. I played for the Providence Mariners before that.”
“Went to Providence once when I was a kid. Beautiful place. Toured those big mansions down there. Ha, my brother—kiddo’s father here—knocked over some ornate gold lamp. Oo-ee they were pissed.”
I laughed and noticed Leo had started to throw harder. I wanted to ask Andy more about the family. I already knew he would share, but the walls Leo had thrown up extended beyond just him. It felt… almost invasive to ask Andy to offer more if Leo himself wouldn’t.
“Did you live in New York City before this?” I asked instead.
He nodded andmmhmm’d. “Ol’ Leonidas here had a big, big penthouse in Brooklyn. Knock your socks off how fancy that place was.”
Smack.Felt like a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball in my hand. I pulled the ball out and dramatically shook my glovewhile giving Leo a pointed look. I threw it back and asked, “You guys throw a lot of parties there?”
The ball came back faster. This time aimed at my head.
“Oh, not really. Not from my lack of trying! Ha.”
Well, if Leo wanted to playthatgame, he picked the wrong person. “Yeah, he just keeps his guests sequestered from the rest of the house,” I said. That got a chuckle out of Andy. I threw a nasty knuckleball that Leo couldn’t catch. It whizzed by him where it smacked hard against the fencing.
“Yeesh!” Andy exclaimed. “What was that, now?”
“Knuckleball,” I told him.
“Good arm, kid. Good arm.”
“Thanks, Andy.”
Leo threw the ball from the fence line like he was trying to reach first base. It came at me hard and fast and landed with a satisfyingthudin my glove.
I backed off of the invasive questions when Leo got back to his position. Andy seemed to sense it and we stayed to easy conversation about what life in Brooklyn was like compared to the rural setting of Lexington. I noticed a sudden drop in his exuberance, if it could be called that. Quick side-eye glances showed him sinking lower in the patio furniture, eyes drooping, as if he burned off all the energy he had in only fifteen minutes.
After nearly a half hour in the sun I was thoroughly baked. My head buzzed from the vodka that I had drained by the time we were done. Leo’s skin glistened with sweat. Looked like all his tattoos were oiled up and ready for appreciation. We were both panting from the heat when Leo called it quits and walked over toward me and his uncle. He held up a finger to his lips as we tip-toed away from the snoozing man.
