Page 27 of The Battery

Leo

L ate enough to be tired but too early to sleep.

The hour and a half flight from New York to Ottawa created a purgatorial atmosphere—a waiting game for sleep.

The plane stayed quiet, at least the players packed in the front of the plane on the oversized, cushioned seats.

Toward the back, the support staff toiled away as they sorted through the list of needs for when we landed.

Absently, I sent a hope and a wish and a prayer into the firmament that we’d experience another hotel snafu and Cody got to bunk with me again.

I sat at the usual four-seater with a table between.

Rome was usually there but absent this time, rounded out by our first baseman and the manager.

We had been discussing the previous Brawlers game, which we won, when Romo lumbered up the aisle and gave me a “what’s up” look that clearly meant he wanted to talk.

I unbuckled and excused myself from the group and stood to speak with our captain.

His head practically hit the ceiling. The sweatpants he wore must have been custom made to fit his long frame. Even his t-shirt seemed a bit small. “Got a sec to chat?” he asked.

“Sure thing, boss.”

I followed him back down the aisle where we both crashed into two free seats abutting one of the dividers of the players’ seating. With enough leg room and separation, and also the drone of the plane, we had plenty of privacy for a quiet conversation.

“I take it the talk went well?” he asked.

I sat closer to the window. My legs extended out, feet crossed at the ankles. I had been waiting for this. “Mostly.”

“Great. The game today against the Brawlers?” He made a chef’s kiss gesture.

“Have you been teaching him how to ignore the crowd?” I nodded an affirmative.

“If he can take his mind off of the crowd during an away game with Brooklyn, then he can withstand anything. It was impressive for a rookie. Talk about a pressure test. And Quinn?”

I noticed he spat the man’s name out. “I mean I wouldn’t know,” I said sarcastically. “I’ve never actually punched the guy.” It was all the sports networks played after the throwdown between our teams last year—an endless loop of Romo throwing his fist at Quinn.

Romo scoffed. “I never realized how much it actually hurts your own hand.”

I shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“ Anyway ,” he said. “I don’t know how you did it, but the two of you are a dream team out on the field.

Whatever you guys talked about worked. Depending on Cody’s performance for the rest of the regular season, and really depending on what happens in postseason, he’s looking at a bonus.

” Then he pointed a finger at me. “ Don’t tell him that. ”

I held up my hands in a defensive posture. “I’m no snitch.”

“I know, I know.” He turned to look forward. There was something else he wanted to say. I could see the wheels spinning in his mind on how best to approach. Mr. Perfect, concocting The Perfect Thing to say.

So I got ahead of it. “We’re just friends,” I offered up. “And we’re on the same page there. We spent the All-Star break figuring it out. We’re both okay with doing the friends thing.” That seemed to disappoint him. I added, “For now.” That got a rise out of him.

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” he said.

“Yeah, maybe bunk us up together again.”

He punched my shoulder at that and then stood. “He’s lookin’ pretty lonely back there, by the way.” He gestured with his head toward the rearmost area of the players’ section. He walked up the aisle toward our usual spot and I stood to peer beyond the partition.

I scanned the dimly lit section. Rookies typically sat toward the back. The seats were all the same, but for some reason seniority manifested itself by proximity to the exit.

There he was, tucked in the very back. The seat beside him remained empty. The closest sat catty-corner, with a wall behind. Mostly private. Low lighting…

I crashed down in the open seat next to him. He had the seat reclined, a Riders-branded blue blanket covering his legs. He had on the headphones I gifted him and was tapping through a game on his tablet.

That smile he hit me with when I sat down. More than friendly. Less than excitement. It was… content. Pleased I was there. Like I was meant to be.

Cody pushed back one side of his headphones as I asked, “What are you playing?”

He turned the tablet and what I saw hit me in the heart and the gut.

Freecell.

“My uncle’s been teaching you?” I asked, and fought like hell to keep my voice from quivering.

Cody wobbled his head. “Not really. Trying to learn on my own. I want to play a game with him the next time I come over. This game is way harder than solitaire. Do you know how to play?”

I nodded, then leaned over. The arm rests in these seats were wider so I had to make an effort. Our arms touched, my temple nearly pressing into his. I could smell his shampoo. I wanted to bury my nose in his hair.

With a hand I pointed toward one of the stacks of cards. “Since one of the aces is buried there, you should work on getting that one out first. That king halfway down is gonna be the biggest obstacle.”

“What do you recommend?”

My eyes scanned the cards. I raced to find something to say but my mind was so preoccupied by a need to touch him. “The queen. Over there. Build on that. See the ace and two already in her stack?”

He tapped through the movements to organize everything. He turned his head a fraction. “Now what?”

I exhaled a barely-there laugh from my nose. “Who’s playing this game, me or you?”

Then he looked right at me. The tablet lowered a fraction. “You.”

Ah. I hadn’t meant my question to mean more than what we were doing in the moment. Clever.

To keep up pretenses, I pulled the tablet from him. I continued to lean but tapped through a series of moves. “You watching?” I asked when I noticed he had been looking at me.

He did a double take of the screen. “You’re moving too fast. Wow. You’re… you’re really good.”

“Do you know how many hours I spent in a chair next to my uncle during his first chemo treatments?”

“Have you been trimming your beard down more?” he suddenly asked.

I fumbled at the non sequitur. “Y-yeah, actually. You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed. Why?”

“Felt the need for a change. Why, do you hate it or something?” I tried to play the question off, like I usually did, as if I didn’t care. But I knew Cody could see through that.

“No way.” He reached up a hand to touch my face, clearly thought better of it given our circumstance, then lowered it back down. “I like it. Gonna keep trimming it back?”

I nodded. I was halfway through solving the game. “I think so, yeah.”

“Wow. End of an era.”

“And the start of something new.” I looked at him when I spoke. We held each other’s eyes for a moment. Then I handed him the tablet. “Okay. Take ’er from there.” I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable.

I wanted to sling my arm around him, have him nestled right up against me so I could smell his hair while he finished the game.

Maybe once we got back home. We had almost ten days straight of games coming up and the break felt as far away as next season.

So I contented myself with these smaller moments. Close, but not too close.