I couldn’t sleep. I juggled three balls, then four and I fell into the comfortable pattern of my disorganized nature.
I’d tried to teach her to juggle but everything fell she gave up and sucked me while I tried to keep them all in the air squealed when the balls fell on her concerns were real even though I didn’t know what they were going to have to go back with or without her, but I’d fuck her all week so I’d be on base four times out of ten this season if I was right, she was the thing that was going to have to drop the others only Diane would be hard she was sensitive no fear like it was going too fast I had to make Vivian comfortable maybe she was afraid of planes or didn’t want to leave her father all right for Youder to go free agent if I had her by my side I could play and forget this slump and go into the season strong.
It all made sense to me.
I was deep in the rhythm when I was distracted by the double ding of my phone. I dropped everything.
thirty-eight
Vivian
Dad had taken painkillers and retired to bed with Sylvia. There were two bedrooms between his and mine, but I sequestered myself in my room and took a long shower. I made sure Sylvia didn’t see me when she tiptoed out. But once all was quiet, I sat in front of the television with my wet hair and let the blue light of the TV flicker in the dark room. I didn’t even know what I was watching. A little sports. A little news. I Love Lucy came on, and it was as funny as ever, but I just smiled at their twin beds.
As if a hot potato like Ricky Ricardo was keeping a separate bed with that firecracker of a wife. She was always trying to interpose herself into her husband’s business. Half the comedy was about how enamored she was of show business and how she didn’t understand the work or preparation the job took.
I didn’t have that problem.
Working for the LAUSD wasn’t a sane person’s dream. But it was my job. Sure, I could leave, and there would be twenty librarians to take my place. That wasn’t the point.
Was it?
I liked my workmates. I loved the children. Hell, I had the whole next week off for spring break.
And I loved Dash Wallace. His return had been as much relief as I’d ever felt over anything in my life. I didn’t see why I’d have to choose between them, but if I traveled with a baseball player over the course of an eight-or nine-month season, my job would be kaput.
I took my phone off the coffee table and flipped through a bunch of stuff I didn’t care about, then I did the one thing I couldn’t get off my mind.
Are you up?
It took too long for him to answer. I assumed he was asleep when the phone buzzed in my hands.
I was just thinking about you.
I can’t travel with you
I was thinking how you looked gagged and held down
It’s not that it’s my job or anything, but it is
There’s something so fucking explosive about containing you and then making sure you can’t contain yourself. It’s like a nuclear bomb going off on my cock
I need to have a life of my own
(…)
(…)
Was he thinking about an answer? Was he considering what I was saying? Or was he gone? Was my seriousness so unwelcome? How could I not be serious? There were 162 games. About half would be away games. Of the fifteen National League teams, eight crossed two time zones and required travel days.
I wasn’t a calculus teacher, but the math for me being home and having any kind of consistent life was out the window.
He didn’t answer. I paced a little, considered texting him again, but I had to assume he needed space. I had to trust he wouldn’t just disappear. All those things were true, but I was still human and, yes, insecure. I was getting more and more anxious as the minutes passed, and when a text came in, I jumped.
I suggest you fall asleep in your ice skating dress
Why?
Good night, sweetapple. Opening day tomorrow. I need to sleep
I stared at the phone. Nothing. No sexy talk. No Shakespeare. No last good night. No running dots indicating he was typing.
Good night
The message was marked delivered, but I had no idea if he’d read it. Maybe he really had gone to sleep. Well, good for him. He knew what he needed for his life to work, but I didn’t know if I was as clear about my own. I’d never had to think about it before. I just did what I had to do to make a living, maintain my relationships, finish school, coast from one day, week, year to the next.
Wasn’t that sad? It would be so easy for me to just pick up and travel the country with him. Fourteen to sixteen regular season cities—with just one in driving distance. And what would I be leaving behind? My dad, who was fine without me. Friends like Francine who would probably pack my bags for me in the name of living my own life. Jim. Iris. All the kids. My city.
For a guy.
Really, it was all about me leaving everything behind for a man. Even if everything constituted a dozen intangibles, it was my everything.
thirty-nine
Vivian