Page 21 of The Battery

Cody

T he notification bell on my phone tolled through the monotonous drone of my white noise machine. I cracked a single eye, because my other was smashed into my pillow. It was just after midnight. Outside, a waxing moon brought silvery light to the dark. I closed my one eye again. It could wait.

Then, another ding. Three more and I knew it was my moms and that something was up. But if it stayed at two…

It did.

Curiosity would keep me from sleep. Besides, I had the next five days to sleep as much as I wanted. With All-Stars in full swing tomorrow (which I didn’t make the cut for), I had a nice little vacation right in the middle of July.

I snaked out a hand from under my pillow and lifted my phone.

Leo: Hey

Leo: What are you up to tomorrow?

If I wasn’t so snug in my bed, I would have rolled off onto the hardwood.

I contemplated ignoring the guy. I knew he was hurting because of his perceived errors during the last game.

We won all three of the series, but he was, if not anything, harder on himself than he was his teammates.

He wasn’t in All-Stars this year so he had just as much time off as I did.

I couldn’t leave him on ‘read.’

Me: Sleeping in. Carb-loading. Beer. Watching the Midsummer Classic.

Me: And not necessarily in that order.

Leo: Come over. We can practice then binge. Games look great on my TV.

Leo: No strings.

No strings. There could be a couple meanings derived from that. I assumed he meant we could spend time together without the expectation that I would be on my knees by the end of it. Actual, quality time together, without strings attached for reciprocation. Hanging out as… friends?

I wasn’t sure I could do that.

Me: I dunno. I was hoping to take it easy tomorrow.

He thumbs-upped the text, a sure sign of the end of our conversation. I dropped my phone on the charging cradle and put my back to the nightstand. The gentle whoosh of my sound machine carried me back to sleep.

*

Freddie went to spend the week with his girlfriend.

It was just me in his empty townhouse. I thumbed through the contacts in my phone as I finished breakfast at the kitchen island.

Maybe go see one of my moms? I contemplated driving down to Providence for the night, maybe hang out with some old AAA buddies.

Since playing in Lexington, Leo had been my only excursion into friendship.

Sure, Freddie and I hung out, but that was only because we were roommates.

While scrolling, a notification dropped down from the top of my phone.

Leo: Gorgeous day. You sure?

I lowered my phone, as if he’d caught me peeking at him. I leaned back into the stool and looked around the kitchen like I could divine my next steps from the subway tile backsplash. Yes, I wanted to hang out, but part of me wanted him to feel the hurt. The other part…

Minutes passed. I wonder if he sensed my hesitation.

Leo: No strings. Really. I mean it. Could use some company today.

How could I reject that?

*

I didn’t want to be outside unless it was by a pool.

Thankfully, Leo’s house had one and I came fully prepared.

It would mark the first time I actually wore a swimsuit, which was an interesting factoid when I thought about it.

I brought one in my backpack, as well as a change of clothes and my baseball glove.

I wore casual, khaki shorts, a gray tank top, and flip-flops.

Of course, I sported the designer shades Leo had gifted me. I forewent the cologne, though.

I rang the doorbell. That marked the first time I had done that, as well.

Every time I visited, I went through the back gate.

I didn’t know if he still wanted me to do that, but I wanted to set a new precedent.

For a moment I feared it might be too invasive, since he had never invited me to the upstairs of his house before.

Leo pulled the door open. Shirtless. Wearing only a pair of army-green, mesh shorts, too short , that left little to the imagination. A backward black ball cap completed the look. My eyes dipped down, then back up and I was thankful for the reflective lenses of my shades.

“Mr. Spartan,” I said with a smile and lifted my sunglasses.

“Har-har. Come in,” he said as he stepped aside.

I kicked off my sandals at the door, then Leo led me beneath an archway sitting atop a pony wall.

Beyond the foyer, an unlit chandelier hung at the center of a three-quarter turn, a long spiral stair leading to the second floor.

I wanted to stop and appreciate it, but he kept walking, going beneath the center of the stairs, down a short hallway, and into a kitchen carved from white marble and white-stained wood.

I almost dropped my shades back on my nose.

He walked with a strange swagger. Showing off? I couldn’t tell. He didn’t need to. Not anymore, at least. I still ogled at the length of those shorts. So ridiculous.

“Ready to hit the sauce?” he asked. It should have sounded amusing and fun, but from Leo’s Unchanging Tone, it sounded serious and slightly mean.

I looked at the smartwatch on my wrist. We hadn’t hit noon. But, we had the next five days off, and All-Stars would be the only break for a while.

“Fuck it. Why not?”

“Party boy, here we go,” he said again with that colorless tone, like he was judging me. “I’ve got lite beer or vodka.”

I balked as I sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island the size of my car. “Like, straight vodka?”

“Too many calories if you mix it with stuff.”

“You… just… drink vodka? Like, on the rocks?”

He reached into a beverage fridge hidden beneath the island on his side.

He pulled out a frosted glass bottle of top-shelf vodka.

From the cabinet, he pulled two stainless steel tumblers and filled them each with a sphere of ice that fit perfectly.

He poured what I figured to be two shots.

In mine, he squeezed a bit of lemon and dropped in the juiced slice.

“Sip it,” he commanded. “This isn’t a race. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” We clicked the cups. He regarded me over the rim of his glass while I took my first careful sip.

Nearly spat it out. Holy hell that was terrible. Citrus rubbing alcohol. I choked it down and made a face.

And he smiled. That crooked one I had only seen twice. A wave of amorous heat washed over me.

This friendship thing is gonna suck.

Leo took a second sip, then placed the glass on the counter. “Let’s throw for a bit. The game doesn’t start for another two hours.”

I tried the vodka again. Still burned. Still awful. But I didn’t pull a face. Leo reached back into the beverage fridge and extracted a can of raspberry lime seltzer, then slid it across the countertop to me.

“Chaser,” he said.

I popped the top and slugged back a quarter of the can. I was gonna need more.

“A party!” came a voice from the hallway next to the kitchen.

I spun to see an older man standing there with the aid of a tennis ball-capped walker.

He wore loose fitting pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved flannel top.

His body was thin and frail, skin sallow.

A horseshoe of buzzed gray hair encircled his head.

Heavy bags under his eyes set beneath chevron eyebrows I recognized.

“Uncle Andy,” Leo said in a new tone. Exasperated. He left the kitchen island and went immediately to the man as if he were about to fall over. “Thought you weren’t awake.”

“Hey, I’m not dead yet . Especially when there’s a party.” He also had the same resonate bass as someone I knew, only his was more animated. Like something Leo would sound like if he allowed himself to feel emotions. “Who’s this, now?”

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 cells hate liquor.”

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.”