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“There’s probably a lot of adrenaline still pumping through you, plus the ice on your elbow, I’m sure is numbing some of the pain as well.” I say. ‘Fuck Gun, I was so worried.”
“I’m just going let you guys be, I need to... um… throw up again.” Bently says walking towards the door.
“You done for the night too?” Gunnar asks him.
“Yeah, Skipper took me out, figured that my head wouldn’t be clear, plus I threw up on his cleats.” Bently nodded, one hand on the door. “I’ll see you up there, yeah?”
“I’ll be there.” Gunnar says with bravado.
GUNNAR SPENT the rest of the game in the dugout with his teammates, I watched him as if he would disappear if I took my eyes off him. The Hornets played a good game; they even went into extra innings. But at the bottom of the eleventh, the Seals first basemen hit a moonshot and we lost the game.
Gunnar sent me a text and told me that he would be getting a cast after the game and to expect him home later, so I went back to the condo and finally felt like I could breathe. I ran myself a hot bath and put a facemask on while I let my shoulders relax and just turned off my mind.
Sometime later, Gunnar walks into our home. He walks slowly as he holds his shoulder and comes to sit beside me on the couch. He winces as he positions himself to get comfortable and then leans his head back.
“Today sucked.” He declares.
“But the good part is that the Doc is right. It’s a good thing that this happened now, versus earlier in the season.”
“I know.” He says with exhaustion in his tone.
“And, the cherry on all this is that you can still play. Your off-season will just be not as adventurous.” I put my hand on his knee and lightly squeezed.
“We lost tonight.” Gunnar says after a moment of silence. “The Hornets don’t advance to the next set of games.”
“Sorry babe.”
“That means my time with the Hornets is done and the next stop is Arizona, and our new chapter.” He rolls his head to look at me, with a smile on his face; he grabs my hand with his left hand.
“Luckily, we really are only packing our clothes and some kitchen things.”
“Clothes, kitchen things and sex toys,” he smirks.
TWENTY-TWO
GUNNAR
I’VE DECIDED that a broken anything is torture.
Showering, cooking, eating, sleeping, fucking, personal hygiene, driving - all those things with a cast on is difficult. I took all the simple things in my life for granted that I wasn’t aware of how difficult switching hands are can be.
Case in point, I’m brushing my teeth right now and my coordination with my left hand and my mouth are not in sync with one another and it’s pissing me off. I have toothpaste up my nose and all around my mouth to where it looks like I’m frothing and ready to bite you to infect you with rabies.
I have a video conference with the management of the Gila Monsters today; it’s my third one since busting up my elbow in that tiebreaker game last week. They have no doubt that I will be ready for the next season, but they’re very involved with my recovery and everything that it entails. I feel like they want to know every time that I take a shit or touch my dick too - but thankfully, they have yet to ask those questions.
Later, I’m sitting at the kitchen island with my smoothie and an English muffin when my computer dings with an incoming call. I wipe the crumbs off my mouth and press the enter button to answer.
Three faces are on the screen, two are smiling; the other has his hands folded and looks like there’s a stick up his ass. He looks uninterested as if someone woke him up from his nap, that person likely being me since he’s looking at me.
“Gunnar! How are you? How’s the arm?” The owner, Lance Fabiati asks.
“Good sir. The arm is good. I’m right on schedule for about 6 weeks with a cast and then a few months for steady PT, so no change since we last spoke, sir.” I respond politely.
“Mr. Reynolds, we have received all the reports and X-rays from the Hornets and you sure as fuck were lucky that it’s a clean fracture.” The other smiling man, the team doctor said.
“Yes sir, I got lucky there.” I nod.
The conversation goes back and forth with questions and answers, updates and confirmations. Eventually the uninterested man leans forward.
