Page 123 of The Fall Classic

So much kissing.

“Sure!” she says, taking my hand as we walk outside.

I guide her over to the stand of trees at the edge of the parking lot. Once we’re a few yards in, I spin her around to face me and then kiss her.

She goes up on her toes to meet me halfway, and for a second there’s nothing in my head at all—just her hands grabbing my shirt and the small satisfied sound she makes against my mouth that I feel more than hear.

And then my brain starts whirring.

Every time I think about how happy I am, a mental countdown clock starts ticking, reminding me how many days and hours until I have to get back to Chicago. It’s that same panicky feeling I’ve had when I’m standing on a mound, knowing when I let go, I can’t control everything that happens next.

Shut up and kiss her, I tell myself.

I do my best.

***

During my afternoon rehab the next day with my trainer, I’m doing wrist circles. Ten each direction, twice a day, per the instructions Dr. Alvarez sent to Mullet Ridge. I’ve done six in one direction and I’m still thinking about the same thing I was thinking about when I started.

What if the reason I got hurt in the first place is that I stopped gripping so hard? What if I loosened up for her, or because of her, and I still don’t actually know how to release correctly because I didn’t really learn anything in therapy but Georgie’s such a good Band-Aid, no one can tell?

I catch that thought before it can take hold, at least, and recognize it for how verifiably wrong it is.

That fear’s not real.

Marcus showed me the video: In April, my wrist was locked. Now it’s loose. It’s an overcorrection, but it’s mechanics, not Georgie.

And it’s fixable.

My trainer puts me through more stretches, and my thoughts finally bring up a new fear, but one I’m worried is more accurate:

I don’t know how to focus on rehab, on baseball and be present with Georgie, let alone pursue a future with her.

It’s like every single one is a competing directive.

Rehab right, get back to Chicago on time, don’t waste a single day of my fifteen-day recovery window, even if I’m anxious to get done rehab early every day so I can sit and watch her make lattes and engage in small talk that’s nowhere near small and is actually the highlight of so many people’s days. And then when I get to Georgie, how can I be fully present instead of half worrying about my grip or stressing out about holding on too hard?

How can I chase both of these things at full speed without tapping the brakes on the other one?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my trainer gives me a look.

“I told you to leave that in your locker,” he says.

“Sorry. I’ll take it over there.”

“Yeah, and check your texts at the same time,” he mumbles to himself as he points toward my locker.

“Only if you insist,” I say with a wink, looking at my phone the second I turn toward my locker.

Georgie

I’m driving the truck back to Mullet Ridge now. :) How’s rehab?

Logan

I still have a couple of exercises left, then band work and ice. Want to catch up on homework while I finish here and then I can take you out for dinner? And by “take you out for dinner,” I mean “are you okay driving?”

Georgie