The Shortstop (17 page)

Quint

It’s been nine days since the universe decided I needed to be punished for some fucking unknown reason.

I’m waiting to have surgery. Then I begin a rigorous rehabilitation program. What’s the point? It’s only to prolong the fucking inevitable. I’m pretty much sitting at home rotting like a bad piece of fruit. Like one bad apple in a bushel, every other apple touching me is rotting as well. Annie, my parents, and our friends are all suffering because of me.

The positive comments from my surgical team are priceless. We don’t know how this will affect my career yet. It depends on my recovery. They could try to reconstruct the knee. Oh, and then there’s my favorite, I’m young, and hopefully with time, I’ll bounce back.

They’re all pussies, because none of them have the fucking balls to say it out loud. Well, I do. I’ve been doing my own research. Based on the type of injury, which was a combination of tears and a break, the probability of ever playing professional baseball again is slim to fucking none. A twist of fate in the form of a twist of my knee has fucking ruined my life.

My parents say that I should be thankful for what I have. Yes, I am thankful to have had the shortest shortstop career as a Yankee. I’m also so fucking thankful that my chances of being a franchise player, their next MVP, and an All-Star have all been flushed down the toilet.

Annie says whatever the outcome is that we’ll get through it together. Yes, that’s just what she deserves, a front-row seat to my demise. That’s just what I wanted for her when I proposed, a lifetime of sitting beside me while I seethe with anger and fester with regret.

Everyone has an opinion and here’s mine.

Fuck the universe and everyone in it because, for whatever reason, it’s obvious that the universe is bending me over and fucking me hard. I must have been a horrific person in a past life and it’s now retribution time. There is no other explanation as to why I would be given such an amazing talent which resulted in such an amazing career only to have it yanked away weeks later without warning.

If my fate is a result of a past life, then I’ll be paying dearly in my next one. Those who love me are losing their patience with me. Those who barely know me think I’m a prick. Actually, it’s quite entertaining how I went from being Mr. Nice Guy to a prick in just a matter of nine days. I was known as a caring, loving, kind, sensitive, fun, charismatic person. I’m now a bitter, angry, nasty, rude, crude, annoyed, impatient, hateful, and let’s not forget, an indifferent prick.

Maybe I sold my soul to the devil somewhere along the line? Maybe if I had stayed with Baltimore, this wouldn’t have happened? Maybe if I decided to play right out of high school instead of going to college, I’d still be living my dream?

Maybe I’d still be happy?

I made the mistake of voicing that to Annie an hour ago.

“
You’re trying to tell me your happiness solely depends on baseball
?” she asked, unable to hide the hurt on her face. When I stared at her blankly, tears filled her eyes. Without another word, she went to our room, slamming the door, and my heart shattered a touch more. I could’ve tried to explain what I meant, but it wouldn’t do any good.

How do I explain to the love of my life that she does make me very happy? But having her in my life while doing what I loved is what made me fucking ecstatic. I can remind her that I love her more than anything, even though I’m hurting beyond belief. If I try to explain it all, she’ll just try to make me see the good and the positive in being together. Except for her, there isn’t any good or positive anymore. I’ll end up hurting her with my actions, words, even silence. All I’ll do is cause her pain because I’m in pain.

If my career is over, then how the fuck will I go on?

More importantly, how the fuck do I expect her to go on with me?

Annie has since been hiding in our room. I so badly want to go in there and be with her. Lie beside her, make love to her, and tell her that I love her. I so badly want to then jump into the shower, get my uniform on, and drive to the stadium to play tonight. My anger stops me from going to her. My leg stops me from going to the stadium. So instead, I’ll sit here and continue to fester.

She finally emerges from our room. Barely making eye contact, she asks, “Daphne and Billy are coming by. Are you too tired?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she says and disappears into the kitchen.

The tension between us is stifling.

“Annie,” I call out to her. My arms ache to hold her, my lips ache to kiss her, and my body aches to fill her. Except for holding each other and occasional kisses, we haven’t been intimate since before the accident. I miss her so damn much.

She pokes her head out. “Do you need something?”

“Um, no. I’m good.” I cowardly change my mind. She watches me for a few seconds before retreating back into the kitchen.

The look on her face is one of complete defeat. I’m killing her slowly. With each day that passes, I’m breaking her heart a bit more and it’s killing me. As much as this hurts, I don’t know how to change it. There’s nothing I can do to go back to what we were, at least not in the foreseeable future. It could be years until I’m back to normal. Which means years of more pain and suffering. If I can’t give her all the things I promised, including myself, how can I expect her to patiently wait this out?

Tomorrow is my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. Tomorrow we find out if I’m ready for surgery. I decide that I’ll worry about it all tomorrow.

“Quint, you need to say fuck you to your injury.”

“Daphne, please stop talking,” I ask as nicely as I can.

The last time Daphne and Billy visited, it was awkward. They didn’t know what to say or how to lift my spirits. They were both in shock, and honestly, I prefer that. Annie must have filled Daphne in on what’s been happening here since their last visit. Daphne has now taken it upon herself to try to solve all my problems. I know she’s trying to help, but I’m dangerously close to losing it on her.

“I just think you need to hear that you have other options. If it turns out that your career will no longer be
on
a baseball field, then it can be looking
at
a baseball field. With your looks, your personality, your connections, you can be a Yankees sportscaster on the YES Network
.”

My response is to stare at her silently. If I open my mouth, the words “fuck off” are on the tip of my tongue just waiting to come out.

Annie has been sitting quietly, not participating in any way. Billy isn’t contributing either. He has been calling me every day to see how I am. Our conversations are short and void of anything to do with Daphne. That’s how I know his decision has been made. Right before my accident, I knew he was going to break up with her. My injury must have halted his plans.

The minute we’re alone, I’m going to prompt him to live his life. He shouldn’t be miserable, especially because of me. Once he leaves her, she’ll be a mess. Based on past breakups, Daphne will then lean on Annie to get her through. Selfishly, I want that to happen. If Annie is preoccupied with Daphne, it will keep her somewhat busy. She needs something to distract her other than me.

The girls decide to sit on the balcony for a while, finally giving me a window of opportunity to speak to Billy.

“What’s going on?” I nose toward the balcony.

“It’s complicated. I fucking love her, although I don’t know why. Do you know she still hasn’t said it back?”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I admit with a shrug. If she doesn’t love him by now, then she never will. I have to handle this delicately. Billy is a good guy, and his gut probably is telling him this isn’t a good time. If I can’t be happy, my best friend should at least be.

“Something is off. I actually suspected she was cheating on me at one time. I asked her, and of course she denied it. I’ve never been able to prove it, but it’s this weird gut feeling I have. Then I say to myself, if that were the case, then why would she get back together with me all those times? She brings the worst out of me. I’m not a paranoid person, but I am around her.”

“Billy, I’m going to give you this one piece of advice and then you’re on your own.” I point to my knee and add, “Life is too fucking short. You need to be happy because you never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“I know.”

“Look, man, you’re miserable. It’s written all over your face. You need to think about yourself.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “If I didn’t love her, walking out that door would be a no-brainer.”

“Sometimes it’s because you love them that you need to walk away.”

His questioning eyes find mine. “Are we still talking about me?”

“Yeah.”

Purposely changing the subject, it’s my physical therapy schedule that we’re discussing when the girls come back into the condo. After a few minutes, I feign exhaustion to get rid of our guests. I’m done with company. I want to be alone.

Thankfully, they take the hint and leave shortly after my little performance. Annie immediately busies herself clearing glasses and disappearing into the kitchen.

I want to reach for her, grab her, and tell her that I love her. Why is this so fucking hard? I know this girl better than anyone on earth, and vice versa. I’ve been so cold, so distant. Pushing her away is hurting me as much as my injury, yet I can’t stop. Part of me feels it’s necessary to keep her at bay. My Annie would never leave me, especially now. But, the more I encourage her, the more she’ll insist on being at my side through this fucking nightmare. That isn’t fair to her. The longer I’m away from my sport, the longer I’m going to be a nasty prick. I can already see that she’s taking the brunt of it.

Normally, seeing her smile, the smell of her hair, or her soft touch would calm me when something was upsetting me. I miss her, yet she’s right here. The memory of the softness of her skin, the swell of her breasts, the way she feels when I slide into her causes desire to rise to the surface. The urge surprises me so that when she emerges from the kitchen, I impulsively say, “Come here.”

Hesitantly, she walks over to where I’m sitting and waits for me to speak. Slowly, I reach for her hand and force her to sit on the arm of the couch. She does willingly even though her brows are raised in surprise.

I choose not to speak. There’s nothing to say. Instead, I bury my fingers in her hair and lower her toward my face. Gently, I kiss her lips, instantly wanting more. She parts them immediately, inviting me in. I miss her so terribly. I miss everything I had so much it sometimes paralyzes me. As our kiss progresses, my desire for her is harder to hide. This is where I’ve been stopping. Just as I get to the point I know I can’t turn back from, I’ve been pushing her away. Today, I don’t have the energy. At this moment, I need her more than my next breath. I need her to extinguish the pain that has settled in my chest.

“Straddle me,” I say breathily into her mouth. She leans her head back enough to look into my eyes. She’s questioning me, giving me the opportunity to end this. Only when she sees me lowering the waistband of my gym shorts over my hips does she allow herself to react. In slow motion, she stands and removes her shorts and panties. Her eyes remain pinned to my hands as they lower my shorts farther, releasing my hard cock.

She quickly looks up at my face, uncertainty once again clouding her judgment. “Q, are you sure?” she asks tentatively.

While nodding, I take her hand to prompt her to straddle my hips. With utmost care, she positions herself over me, one leg on either side of mine. “Is your leg okay? Am I hurting you?” she asks quietly.

Staring up into her face, I shake my head just as I grip my cock and guide it into her. She lowers herself slowly, closing her eyes as she does. I take the moment to stare at her. She is so fucking beautiful. Why can’t she be enough for me? It shouldn’t matter if I play baseball or flip burgers, having her in my life should be enough. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I be content without my career?

“Q, I love you so much,” she says, stroking my cheeks with the palms of her hands. “You need to talk to me, let me in. My heart has been breaking.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes before they slowly roll down the sides of her face. The familiar lump that I’ve become accustomed to forms in my throat. My eyes begin to burn from my unshed tears.