Page 94 of The Battery
Kinda like you are now.
I put my foot against the rubber. Yes. I was having fun. Despite the pressure. Hearing the crowd, feeling Leo’s confidence in me pulsing off of him like a sun gone supernova.
I nodded. Took my position. Hit my grip inside my glove. Adjusted once. Twice. Until it felt comfortable. The tip of my tongue burned into the spicy nicotine pouch. The smell of leather and oil in my glove so close to my face. The halogen stars around me.
Leg up. Extended. Leaned in. Craned my arm back.
Whipped that fucking knuckleball.
And I saw the confusion in the hitter’s eyes. The confidence he had as he entered into a swing, followed by the hesitation that would be his undoing. The ball streaked away from me in a smooth, nasty path that looked like it was fake. Impossibly still. Zero rotation. Inching closer to the plate. Leo leaned… the batter swung…
And hit nothing but crisp, clean air.
Strike three.
Third out.
I threw my glove to the ground at the same time Leo popped to his feet. His mask was off as his cleats dug into the dirt. We were sprinting toward each other like beams of light. His face, that consternation that not even a pennant win could crack. Mine, a wide blubbery mess of a smile.
Three steps away I leaped. We slammed into each other at our breakneck speeds. Leo’s arms around my body, face buried in the crook of my neck as I wrapped every limb I had around him.
The crowd’s cheering drown out my thoughts. The announcer tried to break through to declare the New England Riders had won the pennant, but the crowd wouldn’t let him get a word in. Our team emptied onto the field, many of them ecstatic knowing we’d be heading to the World Series. But Leo and I celebrated for another reason entirely.
I finally untangled myself from him as the pressing bodies of our teammates crowded around. Everything was a jostling mess. I saw Rome make a determined pace toward us, attempting valiantly to cut through everyone. My eyes were on Leo’s. His on mine. I had my hands on his shoulders, looking up at him.
“We did it,” I said over the roar of the crowd.
He blinked. Looked up. Something shifted in him then. I could almost see the unraveling of whatever hideous, soul-crushing knot tangled his heart. Suddenly released into the wild. No longer a burden. Only a reminder now, as all good lessons are, no matter how hard the trial.
“I knew it’d be you,” he finally said as bodies made us stumble about. Too many teammates had been screaming with joy in our ears, trying to get our attention.
But this battery would never break.
“What would be me?” I said through a smile as Freddie leaped onto my back, his screams filling my ears.
“You’ll see,” he said, cryptically.
The jostling teammates moved as a singular entity toward the dugout as the natural climax of the cheering ebbed.
We had won the pennant. I prayed that somewhere, Uncle Andy was smiling at his nephew for pulling off the impossible. Proud. Amazed.
Because I sure as hell was.
*
We celebrated with the Riders. Word had spread on the pennant significance for Leo—his fourth, a milestone not exceedingly rare, but rare enough. As the newest member of our team and proving himself as one of the most critical members, the Riders popped champagne mixed with jets of streamers, all while a bass-thumping rendition of “Fastball-Fastball” boomed over the speakers in the clubhouse.
Most, understandably, were simply excited that the Riders were going to the World Series.
While celebrating, I caught Leo pulling Rome aside as he confided in him. The two hugged. I could only imagine Leo told Rome of theothersignificance of the win. Finally—finally!—someone else knew. I marveled at Leo’s growth, opening up to someone else about his self-imposed trial that had harried him for months.
At home, we celebrate by ourselves. Vodka on the rocks, with a twist for me (which still tasted like citrus gasoline), that we enjoyed in the hot tub. The win’s excitement abated by the time I finished my drink, but a twinkle existed in Leo’s eyes that flickered as indefinitely as the stars above.
Later, he showed me how much he loved me. I had expected his usual intensity, especially after an incredible win. Instead, Leo leaned into the gentle side that no one saw but me. How could I not fall deeper in love with this man?
After, in the late hours of the evening, we lay in bed with nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate our sweat-slicked bodies. We whispered ideas of years to come, formed by trust and promises, careful words stacked upon one another like bricks for a foundation.
Leo’s confidence, unwavering as always, filled me with hope for a beautiful future.
