The Shortstop (22 page)

Daphne piles us into a cab. The stop-and-go traffic crawling up Madison Avenue brings on a headache. I didn’t have the heart to tell Daphne I would much rather get into our pajamas and drink at her place. This is not my scene. I can count on one hand how many times Q and I went to a dance club. The number is one.

“We’re here.” Forcing a smile, I nod enthusiastically.

Daphne pays the cabby and pushes my ass out my door. Smoky glass windows allow you to see shadows inside the club. Even from where we stand, I can see that the space struggles to hold the volume of humans crammed inside. There’s one way to get through this night, and it has booze written all over it.

I allow Daphne to navigate us through the hordes of people toward the bar. She sees some people she knows, introducing me to each as we pass. A tiny space at the bar gives her an invitation to squeeze us in between a cluster of guys. A few turn their heads toward us appreciatively. Daphne’s smile gives them a green light to assess us from head to toe.

“Hi,” a handsome blond to my right says while smiling.

“Hi.” Discomfort is the first thing I feel, quickly followed by guilt. I consciously need to remind myself I’m not doing anything wrong. Daphne orders our drinks, not even checking to see if I’m okay with her decision.

As the bartender serves us our lemon martinis, the blond immediately offers, “This one is on me.”

Daphne looks past me and grins. “Thank you so much. I’m Daphne, and this is Annie.”

While staring at me, he extends his hand and says, “Kyle, and this is my friend Dean.”

Instantly, the two metrosexuals decide between us. Dean moves from behind Kyle to stand beside Daphne, and Kyle moves closer to me. I’m reminded why I hate this scene. The pretense, the phoniness is so disgusting. All these two want is to get lucky, and three minutes into meeting them, it couldn’t be more obvious.

The upside, they’re funding my drunken goal for the evening. I have no idea what Kyle says, or how I even reply. I zone in and out of our conversation so often, he needs to tap me a few times to get my attention. This goes on for hours. Daphne and Dean dance, while I politely decline Kyle’s offer. Undeterred, he continues to bore me by whispering every personal fun fact he can remember directly into my ear.

I’m not comfortable with where this evening is heading. I have accomplished my goal, and I can barely stand from all the lemon martinis I’ve consumed. I need to get through to her and tell her I’m not ready for anything to happen tonight.

When Daphne and Dean return, I say, “Daph, come with me to the ladies’ room?”

“Okay.” She, surprisingly, doesn’t argue.

Taking her hand, I pull her to the back of the club. “Aren’t they sweet?” she asks once we get into the ladies’ room.

“Yeah, about that. Daph, nothing happens tonight. Promise me.”

“Sure, sweetie. I understand. We’re only here to have a good time. I promise.” She leans toward the mirror to reapply her lipstick. “Are you buzzed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s have some more.” With a megawatt smile, she pulls me back toward our drink-funders.

I lose count. They go down so easily. I think I had somewhere between four and twelve. It takes me a while to convince my drunken friend it’s time to go.

Daphne easily gives Dean her number. I explain to Kyle I’m just out of a relationship, and I’m not ready to date yet. He politely gives me his business card and says to call him when I’m ready.

“It was nice meeting you, Annie.” My heart stops when he leans in, and I tilt my head to deflect the kiss I know is coming. His lips land on my cheek. I can feel him smile against my skin before he straightens and winks.

Daphne, on the other hand, goes for it. She and Dean are locked lips-to-lips, forcing me to wait awkwardly for them to separate. The minute they do, I call out a quick good-bye and pull her toward the exit.

“So, was tonight fun?” she slurs when a cab pulls up to the curb where we stand waiting.

“Yes, but I’m not ready for that, Daph.”

“S’okay. Me neither,” she claims as she rests her head on the back of the seat. For a second, I think she fell asleep. I’m tipsy, but she must be far worse off than me. “Annie?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The cabby meets my eye in his rearview mirror and steps on the gas. “Hold on, sweetie. We’re almost home.”

Miraculously, I manage to get her back to the apartment without any vomit appearing. Once I unlock her door, all hell breaks loose. She barely makes it to the sink before most of the lemon martinis she consumed come flowing out.

Soothingly rubbing her back, I hold her hair as she succumbs to the effects of the alcohol in her system. “I love you, Annie,” she says when she stops long enough to catch her breath.

“Me, too, sweetie.”

Still bent over with her face in her sink, she says, “I’m sorry. I tried not to fall in love with him. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands as I try to register her words. “Who, sweetie? Who did you fall in love with?”

She turns around and slides her body down until she’s sitting on the floor, leaning up against her kitchen cabinet. Her eyes are closed, again making me think she fell asleep. I sit beside her, needing to know what she meant. “Daph, who?”

Struggling to open her eyes, once she manages to do so, they are completely dilated. Her lids droop shut, but her mouth opens to say, “Quint.”

Quint

Lance claims Annie’s visit yesterday lit a fire under my ass. What the fuck does he know? If her visit did anything, it was to send me further into my pain-filled abyss. Seeing her face, having her in the same room and not holding her or kissing her was the worst form of torture. My session after she left was the first time Lance witnessed how I channel that torture. Breaking into a sweat while desperately trying to raise my leg the way they wanted me to, was misconstrued as a willingness to cooperate. When, in fact, it was simply a way for me to release the torment I was feeling. The more I attempted to move my leg the more the pain increased both in my knee and in my heart. It exhausted me enough to pass out once I took my pain meds. I slept for hours, dreaming of a wedding that would never happen.

Here we go again, is all I can think when Lance strolls into my room.

“Morning, sunshine. How’s our MVP?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Clearly amused, he sits in a chair and crosses a leg over his knee while smirking.

Lance and I have already fallen into a comfortable—he’s a pain in my ass and I don’t take his shit—relationship. The other therapists on my “dream team,” as they call themselves, are much more respectful and tolerant of my childish behavior. Lance dishes it out as much as I do.

“So, Mr. Grumpy is back, huh? I was hoping today would be a repeat of yesterday. There were no insults and no arguing all day. I would say that yesterday was a good day.”

“Don’t you have a runway to walk or need your highlights touched up?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and claps slowly. “That was a good one. Well done. Here’s the drill. Today we’re going two hours, back-to-back. I want to see how your stamina holds up.”

“Whatever, fuck-cake.”

“We’ll start at noon.” He stands with a patronizing grin. “I have a question for you.”

“No.”

Ignoring me, he asks, “Is Annie your girlfriend?”

“Why do you care?”

“Just curious. She was pretty shaken up yesterday. It’s obvious she cares about you, although I can’t fathom what she sees in you. Just call it curiosity.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Can I assume you wouldn’t care if I called her? She left me her number to keep her posted on your progress. Of course, I can’t discuss your case, but as long as you don’t mind, I was considering asking her out. She’s real pretty and a sweetheart.”

He gauges my response, which requires every fiber of my being to control. My instinct is to lunge at him and beat the living shit out of his smug, movie star-looking body. “She can do what she wants. It’s her life.”

“Great. Thanks, Quint.”

I watch as he walks out, grinning like a fucking asshole. I know what he’s doing. That prick is trying to rile me up, and it’s working. The mere thought of them together makes me pulse with fury.

A soft knock draws my attention away from the visual playing in my head. “Go the fuck away, asshole.”

The door creeps open and Daphne pokes her head in. She ignores my eye-roll and walks farther into the room.

“What do you want?”

“Quint, I need to talk to you.” She looks awful, for Daphne standards. Always made up and perfectly dressed, today she actually looks like she just rolled out of bed after having a sleepless night.

“I don’t want to rehash this shit. It’s over. Why can’t you people leave me alone?”

“It’s serious.”

“Is she hurt?” My façade crumbles at the possibility something happened to her.

“No. Not physically. She’s just…” Relief floods while Daphne stands awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She stares at the chair in the corner and then back at me.

“Can you get on with this?”

She sits gingerly on the edge of the chair and tears appear in her eyes. “We went out last night. I took her to a club that some of my coworkers told me about. We had fun and got very, very drunk. I barely remember how we got home. She was taking such good care of me. I do remember getting sick, and Annie was right by my side ensuring I was okay.” She stops long enough to pull in a shaky breath. I wait quietly, scowling at her from my bed. I have no idea where she’s going with this. Did Annie meet someone? Is she trying to tell me she cheated? Just before impatience gets the best of me, she continues. “I said something I didn’t mean to say. I really never wanted her to know. I’m only telling you from fear this will ruin her.”

The tears now flow and she sits struggling to control her breathing.

“Daphne, what did you say?”

She stares at the ground, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t remember the exact words. I basically admitted that I’ve always loved…” Her eyes dart to mine, and her face crumples as if she’s in pain. In an emotion-choked voice, she quietly says, “I said I’ve always loved you.”

The air leaves my lungs. I never expected those words. “What?” I ask, thinking I heard wrong.

“I love you.”

“No. No.” I shake my head in denial. “No. You can’t.”

“I know I can’t. It’s why I’ve never told you. I’ve loved you since freshman year. I love her too and would never intentionally hurt her. Once I got to know Annie, I knew I could never act on it. I tried so hard to move on with Billy. I really wanted to ignore my feelings and hope they would just go away.” She watches as shock stuns me silent. I don’t know what to do with this information. Nothing would ever happen between us. I don’t have any feelings for Daphne besides friendship. “It shouldn’t have happened. I was so drunk. I didn’t realize what I was saying.”

“What did she say?” I ask, sounding out of breath.

“She lost it. It was like my words pushed her over the edge. She grabbed her stuff and left my apartment late last night. I was so worried. I called her mom to be sure she got home okay. I’ve tried calling her all morning, and she won’t answer my calls. She won’t speak to me. It’s killing me.”

Daphne loses it before my eyes. Her sobbing causes her body to shake uncontrollably. I sit watching it all, not offering any form of consolation. I can’t. I truly don’t know how to handle this. All I can think about is my poor Annie, and what all this is doing to her. She doesn’t deserve this, any of it. The familiar lump forms in my throat. Daphne remembers I’m here and looks up, confused. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

She suddenly stands and nods repeatedly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here. This isn’t your problem. I just thought I should tell you. I know things are strained between you two, and I don’t want to add to it…but it seems I did. And I’m so sorry.” She wipes her tears with purpose and adds, “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

I allow her to leave without helping her feel better or trying to pacify her panic. I just can’t do it. It’s her battle to fight. I wish that was a secret that never surfaced, especially now. But, what’s done is done, and there isn’t anything I can do about it except to pretend to ignore it…just another thing to add to my list.

Billy has texted, called, and even visited once…which means Billy doesn’t know.

That doesn’t surprise me. There’s no way Annie would tell him, and based on the condition Daphne was in, neither would she.

The more I’ve thought about the whole thing, the more it seems like I’m being
Punk’d
. How could she go years having feelings for me yet keeping it to herself? All those times we were together, all those times I busted on her and she on me? Crap, I fucked my girlfriend with a wall separating us on so many occasions it must have tormented her. This explains her mood after I proposed to Annie. This explains everything with Billy. I was the guy she could never be with.

I haven’t heard from Annie. The loss of contact stings more than it should. I’ve come to depend on her texts and voice mails. Forgetting the content, the words, the pleading, it was the sound of her voice I needed more than anything. Yet, at the same time, I knew she was still holding on to what we had and she needed to stop. But now that they have stopped, I wasn’t prepared to miss them so much.

I feel like I’m living in a soap opera, a bad one at that. I should write a fucking book. Annie isn’t the only one who needs to reinvent her career. It’s not like I have anything else to do. Time is slinking by very slowly. I feel like I’ve been here for years. Nothing has changed, including my progress.

Well, one thing has changed. I jerk off—a lot…even more than in my horny teenage years. I find it releases much more than stress. They should include it as a self-healing option in medical journals. With visions of Annie and all the things I used to do to her, the minutes building toward my release and a full minute after leave me sated like nothing else has. It’s short-lived and anger quickly sludges through my veins once I come back to earth, but fuck, I’ll take it. Along with my pain meds, I’m depending on jerking off to get me through the days.

I know the perfect times when no one bothers me. No interruptions from staff or my “dream team.” With each stroke, twist, tug, I picture Annie’s mouth lowering over me. Her tongue stroking as she bobs up and down. The inside of her mouth feels like heaven. Right before she repeats the motion, she sucks on my tip, causing my hips to buck. It feels so real. I can feel her hands on my thighs. I can see her looking up at me through hooded eyes. My groan is amplified in my empty room. The words I can’t say to her flow ceaselessly for no one to hear.

I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry I can’t make you happy.

Quick snippets of ecstasy dotting my long, boring days is all I have to look forward to. Can you blame me for wanting to replicate the sensation as much as I can? Now that it’s over, I clean myself up and wait for the nurse to appear with my magic pills so a dreamless sleep can take me.

This is my life.