Page 33 of The Battery

Cody

“ C ommotio cordis,” the intensivist named Dr. V told me. He gave his full last name, something lyrical and beautiful, but there was no way in hell I would be able to pronounce it again. He assured me people called him Dr. V and that I could as well. I must have made a face.

I made an attempt at saying the name of the condition. Failed. Tried again. “Commotio cordis,” I enunciated. “What is that?”

“It’s a type of sudden cardiac arrest triggered by blunt impact,” Dr. V told me. “The heart has cycles, right? There’s a moment in each cycle when, essentially, a hard knock can disrupt the cycle completely and the heart just stops.”

I blinked. Tried to work through the logic. My eyes scanned the ICU. “So… like… a millisecond earlier or later and I wouldn’t have dropped?”

Dr. V laughed and adjusted his glasses. “More or less. Just some nasty bruising across the chest.”

I shook my head. “Talk about bad timing.”

“Bad timing, sure, but the stadium had an excellently trained crew and the right equipment ready to go,” Dr. V assured me. “They saved your life, Mr. Hill.”

I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate my circumstance.

The evening passed in a haze. We arrived at the ER first to undergo an assessment for vitals, neurological eval, a pain check because of my ribs.

They hooked up an ECG to assess my heart rhythm.

Then it was off to get a CT scan to ensure I didn’t have any significant internal injuries.

I was wheeled into the ICU for an echocardiogram, blood tests galore, and hooked up to enough machines to make me feel like I was a cyborg.

Now I sat in my curtained cage in the ICU listening to ticks and beeps and whooshes from the surrounding patients in whatever state of wellness they lie.

They had me rolling on something wonderful for the pain in my chest. Two cracked ribs and enough bruising to keep me blue for months.

I’d stay in the ICU for the next two days for monitoring and then likely be discharged.

The heaviness of everything hadn’t quite caught up to my brain yet and the drugs kept the worst of the mental hurdles at bay.

Dr. V finished up with another laundry list of actions they would take and then told me to rest as he left. Sure. Like I could simply ignore the implication of no longer playing baseball for the season and head off to sleep.

I put it out of mind as best I could, the way Leo did.

Leo. The last memory I had was throwing the fastball and the uncanny straight line on which it returned.

Leo, popping up from his squat. I couldn’t see his eyes on me, but I felt them just before everything went black.

Then a slow opening of my eyes beneath the harsh glare of hospital lights.

I think his name was the first from my lips.

Someone—no idea who—assured me he was waiting for me and that I needed to be strong.

I wondered when I would see him again. A nurse informed me he was in the waiting room and that he’d have a chance to see me soon.

He’s waiting for me , I thought as the drugs help push me toward bliss.

*

I awoke to a visitor. The nurse excused himself as someone walked into my little curtained stall of machines.

“Lawson?” I said.

The Diamonds player, the one who technically hit me. He was at my beside, right hand extended for a bro-hug, which he did as delicately as if I were made of paper.

“Hill, brother,” he was shaking his head. “I am so, so sorry, man.”

I scoffed. “Aw, that’s very kind of you to say.” My head was still swimming. They must have kept up with the pain meds throughout the night. Only a dull ache persisted in my chest instead of the sharp pains I was told to expect. “It really isn’t your fault.”

“Feels like it is. How you holdin’ up? They got you on the good stuff?”

My eyes were half lidded, and I gave a satisfied smile. “Oh yeah. Good stuff.”

He shot me with a contemplative look. “So technically, am I a killer now?”

I cackled out a bray of laughter that hurt my chest. I recovered and learned my lesson there. “The doctor said I didn’t die. So… I guess you’re a semi-killer?”

Lawson nodded, still in feigned contemplation.

“Yeah. Okay. I like it. New title: Semi-Killer. I dig it. Anyway, the Spartan is in the waiting room and he’s basically giving death glares to everyone who walks by.

Take it easy man, all right? I promise not to try and kill you the next time we’re on the field together. ”

“Aw, shucks, what a kind thing to say.” We both laughed. I did not learn my lesson and was hit with a blinding wave of pain that he apologized for. Another delicate bro-hug and he was gone.

Through the haze of drugs, I made an attempt at sitting up in bed but the discomfort hit me good.

I used a button on the side to raise the back portion to a forty-five-degree angle.

Absently, I ran a hand through my hair, as if coiffing would make me more presentable.

I had been in the middle of adjusting my hospital johnny when Leo swung in like slow-rolling fog.

Tall. Imperious. And still wearing his Riders uniform. He waited all night.

I held up my hands in a sudden effort. He came at me too fast, arms stretched out. I winced prematurely at the pain about to explode as Leo lowered himself to crush me.

His arms shot out at the last second to brace himself above the bed and he only extended his head to nestle his face in my neck while holding his body over me without touching or crushing. I felt him take a deep breath, his lips a soft caress on my skin.

I couldn’t sag into him but I hooked my own head around his neck like a lovebird cooing to its mate. Sweat, the distance traces of cologne. I took it in as much as I could before he pulled back, still braced over me, our faces inches from each other.

That stare. The one that could carve glyphs into glacial ice. Irises a moss green on a summer’s eve. Capable of dressing down someone to a single screaming neuron. And yet they looked upon me with… regret?

“I’m sorry, Cody.”

My brain needed a quarter turn of the second hand to comprehend what he said through the haze of drugs in my system. He was apologizing for what he had said to me what felt like an age ago.

“Oh. Leo, you don’t have to…” No. I didn’t mean that. He did have to. I had been waiting to hear these words. I blinked and then corrected myself. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

But he wasn’t done. “I didn’t mean what I said. Truly. I only said what I did to make you upset. My intentions were worse than my words. I’m ashamed for trying to make you feel lesser than you really are and I hope you can forgive me for that. I take back everything I said to you that night.”

Wow was my only thought for a moment. Hell of an apology.

I giggled at my own thoughts, which reddened my cheeks. My turn to apologize. “Sorry, my thoughts are all over the place right now.”

It didn’t seem to bother him. He kept that hard gaze on me, unwavering and waiting .

I pushed through the clouds. “Apology accepted, Leo.”

His face was back in my neck, this time breathing out a long sigh. My skin was cold after he eventually pulled away. There were no chairs for visitors in the ICU, so he pressed half a cheek on the bedside with one of his hands on my shoulder, thumb delicately tracing a pattern.

“You waited all night?” I asked and looked pointedly at his uniform.

“Yeah. Lawson arrived an hour or so ago. Nice guy. Here I thought my guilt was bad.” He pulled his hand away from my shoulder and then locked it onto my forearm, as if I would drift away from him. “I made sure he came in first. He’s gotta get back to Ottawa.”

“It was sweet of him to come by.” I looked down at a sudden thought of the game. The drugs stoked my emotions, and I felt control slipping. The game.

“Hey,” came Leo’s voice. He squeezed my forearm. “Where did you go just now?”

I couldn’t look at him. The periphery of my vision showed me the concern on his face; it was enough to make me crack. “I was doing so well… we were doing so well. I loved— loved —closing. And now? I’m done for the rest of—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interrupted. “Hold up. No, no, no. You’re not done. Is that why you’re upset? Because you think it’s over?”

Finally I looked up, with more anger toward my situation than with him. “Well, yeah . I have two broken ribs and the rest are all bruised. I thought my heart stopping would be the issue, but I was wrong. It’s the friggin CPR .”

Leo held up his hand and began to count off on his fingers. “You’re young. Not some geezer like me whose injuries lay him out for way too long.”

“Leo, you’re only six years older than me. That doesn’t make you a ‘geezer.’”

“Thanks. Two, you have the best sports medicine personnel available and they already know about what’s going on.

You’ll be monitored and scheduled for recovery.

There’s no way in hell the Riders are losing you as a pitcher.

They’ve already assured me and the others that you’ll be back in time for postseason.

And lastly, I’m moving you in with me so I can keep track of your progress. ”

Another stretch of seconds-long contemplation. I had been internalizing his litany and then my brain broke with the last one. “Wha… no . Abso lutely not.”

“Yes. I need to keep an eye on you. I can help you with recovery and training. It’s no different from what we’ve done this summer.”

“No. Leo, no. I’m not moving in right after…

” My jaw tightened and I let my words trail off.

I didn’t have the wherewithal to be a chisel against the marble that was his personality.

I had to use a hammer. “Leo, your uncle just died after you’ve been taking care of him all year.

You need a break and some time alone. I’m not moving in.

Freddie’s a good roommate. He can help.” He started to speak.

“ No , Leo. I’m not moving in with you. I appreciate the sentiment, I do, but it isn’t happening. ”

He stood and it looked like he wanted to pace and enter into a tirade, but the confines of our little tent made that impossible.

His eyes were on the equipment surrounding me. “I…”

I watched him like an owl spying through branches. Any new emotion from Leo was a gift. I saw him now as vulnerable. Opening up.

“I want to take care of you,” he said in a quiet, careful voice, as if saying the words aloud would spook the timidity of his desire.

“Because you feel responsible for my circumstance?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “Because I want to, Cody.”

“Hey,” I said to grab his attention. I held out my hand and he sat back down beside me to hold it. “You can still do that. I’m not saying you can’t help me through this. I just don’t need to be under your roof for that.”

I saw the mental calculation. He needed control in all things. A grunt escaped him, his lips pursed.

“I’m not some damsel,” I said to reinforce my point.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek, his eyes sliding sideways.

He hadn’t expected this to be an argument.

“Your recovery will be quicker if you’re with me, even if it’s temporary.

I can help with the physical therapy. The mental therapy.

This won’t be a walk in the park if we’re getting you back on the field by postseason. ”

Inside, I rocked back in shock. He really wasn’t letting this go. Part of me wanted to relent and agree. The other, fueled by boldness from the drug eradicating my inhibitions, wanted to plow forward with a disagreement. It wasn’t a leap to know which part would win.

“I’m not moving in, Leo. Especially when I don’t even know what this is or where it’s leading to.” I gestured between us.

“I’m committed to building a relationship with you,” he answered almost immediately.

Holy hell but this man was unpredictable.

“I’m not asking you to share my bed. I’m asking you to literally be nearby so I can help with recovery.

We can pause other things. That’s fine. My focus is getting you back into fighting shape, ASAP. ”

It was like arguing with a wall. I believed him, of course. If he said he would hold back on being physically intimate while I recovered, I believed him. We had both held to that before.

He sensed my sudden weakness.

“I have four spare bedrooms. Two of them have their own bathrooms. I can get a room fully furnished by tomorrow. I even talked to the equipment manager already and he can get things set up in my yard to begin training as soon as you’re cleared.”

“I don’t need to be rescued.”

“Who said anything about being rescued? I’ll charge you room and board if you want.

” He shifted on the bed in his excitement.

He had me cornered. “There’s a full gym in the basement.

I can talk to my chef to meet your dietary needs.

And obviously I won’t be there half the time.

You can watch the games from home and we can talk through your objective perspective.

Then you can start attending the games and traveling with us.

Nobody wants you to miss out, Cody. I talked to them all.

That hit aside, your closing skills were incredible. Just incredible.”

Excitement flashed in his eyes. He leaned in.

“I’m—listen, I’m…” My voice trailed off. Snickered. The drugs in my system weren’t helping me win this argument. I allowed a fantasy to inject itself into my mind’s eye. A world in which Leo helped me recover without pushing a carefully guarded boundary. Actually making it to postseason.

Leo didn’t break. Did he ever need to? His voice remained quiet, eyes insistent as I reached the conclusion he had already made. All he needed was a simple three-letter word.

“Leo…” I said instead and looked away. It was suddenly too much.

He grabbed my hand. “C’mon, Cody. If anyone can get you back on track, it’s me.”

I turned and tried my best to point at him. The sudden movement hurt my chest and I winced. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“No candlelight dinners.”

That half grin of his. As if my head weren’t swimming enough.

His smile faltered as his brow furrowed. He said, “Also, there’s something else we should talk about.”

“Oh?” A sudden spike of fear lanced through my belly. My mind rushed through every possible unknown. “Like what?”

He leveled a stare at me. “Cody, how many mothers do you have? Because so far, I’ve met five of them.”