Page 25 of The Battery

Leo

C ody’s third day at my house during the All-Star break passed with almost no physical interaction.

I had overstepped the previous evening. He knew it.

I knew it. I let my shame dictate my actions the following day.

Where once I had lust for simply his body, I now had the spark of yearning for him .

Yet still he returned. Arrived by cab so he could drive his car home at the end of the day.

I didn’t hug him at the door, and he didn’t appear to expect one.

In the yard, we threw the ball again while Uncle Andy jabbered on until he fell asleep.

No nightmares this time, thankfully. When he woke, Cody helped me walk him back to his room where he would stay up for an hour playing Freecell, then another nap.

He made me promise to wake him up for dinner, as he wanted the three of us to share a meal together.

“I wanna see him in this house all the time,” Uncle Andy told me when it was just the two of us in his room. I pulled the blankets over him. Plugged the tablet in, since it was low on battery. Poured him fresh water in his cup with a straw.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

He grabbed my hand when it came near him. The strength of his grip shocked me. “Kiddo. I’m serious.”

“I know, Uncle Andy, I heard you.”

“Figure things out.”

He released me from his grip and I leaned back. “What does that mean?” I didn’t hold back my contempt. The two of us were no strangers to verbal fighting. It so often led to near physicality when I was younger. Impetuous and full of sorrowful, misplaced rage.

“You know damn well what it means, Leonidas,” he said. Like me, he knew how to put venom in his tone. “What was your first promise to me?” I didn’t answer. “ Leo. ”

“I’m gonna win you a pennant.”

“And the second?”

I couldn’t answer that one. Speaking it would make it come true. He didn’t demand an answer. Instead, he waited in silence. “No more pain,” was all I could say.

“The third?”

I shook my head.

“So help me,” my uncle warned, “when I arrive upstairs and I see your dad, I’m telling him to send—”

“I’m gonna smother you,” I said through an incredulous laugh. “With a pillow. Right now.”

Uncle Andy cracked a smile. “Don’t forget that third promise, kiddo. It’s the most important one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I repeated with the same affectation.

I found Cody sitting at one of the stools at my kitchen island, sipping from a glass of ice water. I had run out of ideas to keep him here. We already threw the ball. The game wasn’t on yet. We could go for a dip, but I didn’t trust myself around him half naked.

I sensed a hesitant distance emanating from Cody as I entered the kitchen. My overstep last night undoubtedly gave way to a number of concerns. I didn’t blame him. I acquired several of my own.

I was torn between my default of ignorance and plowing ahead; actually sitting him down and talking through it.

What would friends do? I wondered.

“Not sure what you had planned for the afternoon,” I said as I filled up my own glass of ice water. “My uncle would love for you to stay for dinner, but I don’t want to… I dunno… shackle you to my house.”

Cody snorted out a bit of laughter. “Happy to stay, Leo. I mean, but, like… if you want me to go, though? I don’t want to keep intruding like this.”

A decision point hit me. My natural inclination leaned toward the usual—shrug or tell him I didn’t care or ignore the question or this or that…

I drained my glass of water. Set it down with more force than necessary. Looked right at him. “Stay.” I blinked. “Please.”

Cody nodded and slapped the countertop. “Done. What should we do until dinner, then?”

Make you moan like that day in the stadium tunnels. My index finger twitched at the thought.

“Chill in the living room?” I asked.

The room overlooked the side yard of the house.

A horseshoe sectional made of light beige fabric surrounded a large gas fireplace with a gilded mirror leaning on the mantel.

An oversized coffee table consumed the space between.

I dropped into one corner of the couch and extended out my legs for comfort.

To my surprise, and horror, Cody picked up my feet and sat in their spot.

His thumb pushed into the sole of my bare foot, and I turned to goop.

“Back to the grind tomorrow,” he said. We were traveling first thing in the morning to Brooklyn to face the Brawlers for an evening game.

“Haven’t played in Brooklyn since June,” I responded. I had dropped my head back into the high cushion of the couch. Closed my eyes and let his magic fingers cast spells.

“Worried?”

I considered my answer. “I’m worried about Quinn.”

“ The Asshole of Assholes.”

“Bingo.”

He dug his thumbs deeper and it sent a wave of relaxation at me. I stretched out farther and sank deeper into the couch. This wasn’t fair but I didn’t have the heart to stop him.

“Got any strategies for him?”

“Maybe,” I said in an effort to end the line of questions.

Then realized I shouldn’t default to my terse responses. Not anymore.

“It only takes me once to learn something. Quinn will pull the same shit again and it won’t work. It’ll frustrate him.”

He kneaded in just the right way with one hand while the second crept up my calf.

Dangerous.

“I know what to expect this time,” Cody said. “I’ll be ready for him when he comes up to bat.” Farther now. His fingers ran delicately under my knee, then cupped my calf when they came back down. He was no longer massaging. Just… appreciating. “Hey, maybe I could hit him like I did you…”

I grunted a response. I had the crook of my arm folded over my eyes.

“Falling asleep on me over there?” Cody asked. Another grunted response.

I feigned the fatigue and put more energy into suppressing my growing erection. The last thing we needed was my small shorts—which I knew he loved—getting tight while lying prone on a couch, exposed as I was.

I kept myself blinded with my arm as I felt Cody lift my legs to extract himself. I heard him stand. Good. I needed a moment to cool off and—

He was there. Back on the couch, but this time lying beside me. There wasn’t much room.

“Cody,” I warned him in as delicate a voice as I knew how. “I don’t know…”

“I’m not gonna do anything. If you don’t.” He had wedged himself to fit perfectly at my side. Knee lifted far enough not to hit my growing hardness. Arm draped over my chest. Face nestled between my pec and bicep. “Just… don’t move. Go to sleep.”

I didn’t dare move my arm to look down at him. The Spartan in me said this was unacceptable and that only bad things would come from this.

So I ignored him. We fell asleep together on my couch, a lazy afternoon nap on the last day of break.

It was a deep, restful sleep. And it felt perfect.

*

The dining room sat toward the front of the house on the left.

A bay window let in plenty of orange evening light.

A large, round table dominated the space, buffet table on one side, ornate archway on the other leading to the kitchen.

My private chef had come yesterday to batch-cook meals for the next few days.

Instead of a frozen meal, I snagged a fresh dinner from the refrigerator and reheated the necessary portions.

I didn’t set out as much for my uncle as I did Cody and myself, but I made sure there was enough there to sate his appetite.

Cody and I continued to pound water like we were still dehydrated.

The vestiges of a hangover were officially gone, especially after that nap, but I still wanted to make sure we hit the ground running tomorrow when we left for Brooklyn.

It was a four-game series followed by two games in Ottawa.

Five days away from my uncle as he continued to worsen…

Five minutes into our meal, I noticed my uncle hadn’t taken a bite of his food.

He’d been chatting endlessly with Cody. Damn but he sure did enjoy the pitcher’s company.

Ever since I roused him from sleep, he’d been hammering Cody with questions about his pitching career.

Back in the day, he had pushed Archie into pitching.

I was showing clear signs of favoring catching and Uncle Andy and my father thought it would be glorious to have twin sons form a battery.

Alas, Archie dominated the outfield and no one questioned his desire to be a centerfielder.

“Eat, Uncle Andy,” I commanded. I regretted the tone. I knew how touchy he could be with it sometimes and the only reason I knew that was because he did the same to me.

My father’s brother gave me one of those looks I knew all too well. Plainly, he returned to speaking with Cody.

Heat crawled up my sternum. Viscerally, I knew it was fear. In the moment? Anger.

“Eat,” I repeated. “You need to eat.”

His face softened. Somehow that made it worse. “Kiddo? I’m not hungry.”

I took in a sharp breath through my nose. I didn’t dare look at Cody. I felt shame that he was witnessing this. “You said you wanted to have dinner with us.”

“Because I enjoy the company, not because I’m hungry.” The words left his mouth slowly. The truth of his weariness making an appearance.

I pursed my lips together and shook my head. “You’re skipping too many meals. You need to keep your strength up.” I felt the slow spiral of anger force my vision into a long, red tunnel. “ Eat. ”

“Leonidas,” he spoke, like the authority he was in my youth, the one I fought so hard against in all my misplaced rage. “Don’t ruin the meal.”

I shoved my chair back. I couldn’t direct anger at him. I had to place it elsewhere. “If you’re not gonna fuckin’ eat…”

I was through the archway and into the kitchen where I made an abrupt right turn into the hallway. I didn’t want to go outside so I sought the privacy of the living room off of the foyer. But I came to a sudden stop.

“No, no, Cody, don’t go after him,” I heard my uncle say. Then the rubber-footed scooting of Cody’s chair. “You gotta let him go when he gets like that.”

The shame of eavesdropping—in my own home—did not eclipse my curiosity. I stayed in the hallway.

“Trust me,” Uncle Andy continued, “you stop him from walking away like that and he will unleash verbal hell on you.”

“Ah. Yes. I’ve been on the receiving end of that once.”

I swallowed and felt my chest cave in. I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head. Damn it.

“Nasty, ain’t it?” No response from Cody, but I could picture him looking sad and shaking his head. If Uncle Andy knew my exact words to Cody that night, he would have rained his own kind of hell on me. “Has he apologized yet?”

A snort from Cody. “No. Definitely not.”

“That’s a shame. He will, kid, all right? He will.” I heard a throaty chuckle bubble out of my uncle. “He’s like a continuum, yeah? Space and time. That’s what he needs.”

“I’m not very patient, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, but he is,” my uncle said. “There’s some good complements there.

Look, Cody, he’ll come around. I promise you.

And my family doesn’t make promises lightly, okay?

It’s a very serious thing when we say that.

So I—hey, look at me when I’m saying this—I promise you that Leo will come around. All right?”

“Yessir.”

“Well, all right. Help me up, now. I’m worn out. How’s the food?”

“It’s good, sir.”

“Good. Still can’t believe my nephew made it far enough in life that he has a personal chef .”

I heard the shuffling of the walker. I knew I should go to help but a voice inside said that it was a good thing Cody was experiencing this without me. A piece of me existed, that I kept tucked away from him, that he should see.

This is one of my crosses. To understand me, you need to understand my burdens.

Later, Cody found me in the living room. I was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with my elbows braced against my knees.

He didn’t say anything as he sat beside me.

So I put my arm around him and leaned back into the couch with him. He reached up and held my hand that was draped around him.

No words were spoken. None needed.

Cody dropped his head onto my shoulder, and I leaned mine atop his.