Blake couldn’t even look at me. He nearly fell out of the car, and then he climbed up the hill to his house without looking back. He was so fucking handsome in his uniform, but I was frustrated and hurt. It wasn’t like I coerced him into it.
I didn’t see Blake at all for the next two days. That was unusual. We had settled into a sort of routine where, in one way or another, we seemed to see each other somehow nearly every single day.
I didn’t know if he was angry or confused or just being shy. We were both adults. Surely we could talk about any of it.
I knew that I didn’t want to stop at just a kiss. I had fantasies and dreams about Blake, and they were growing more intense by the day. Maybe I did push things. Maybe it was my fault. By the second day without seeing Blake, I settled into a personal funk.
I was tempted to call him, but I didn’t really know what I would say. Hey, are you afraid of kisses? I promise I won’t do it anymore. It was an awkward moment, and it would be awkward the next time we saw each other, but I always wanted to face things like that head on and move past them.
As always, my garden was there to absorb my free time and take me away from too much negative thinking. It was still just a tiny bit early, and there was a slight risk of a last frost yet to come, but I climbed into the car after finishing my work for the day and took a trip to the garden center. It was time to seek out some of my hard-working annuals for summer.
I returned home with flats of petunias, snapdragons, marigolds and impatiens. It always looked like I had an incredible number of plants for the size of my house and flower beds when they were all packed in tight in flats in the rear of my car. Then, when I had them all planted, it was perfect. Neighbors always commented on how lush and full I kept my flower beds. It worked, because I bought enough plants to fill the space properly during my spring planting.
The next day I spent two hours after work digging in the dirt and wedging my new flowers into place. It did help me think less about Blake and I began to develop some perspective on that single kiss.
Reggie called and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner. I asked him to give me an hour, and then we could head to our favorite mom-and-pop Italian restaurant in the neighborhood.
He said, “Make sure you clean up all nice and pretty for your dinner date.”
“Play your cards right, and you might even get a hug before the evening’s over.”
He asked, “A kiss?”
I winced slightly because the image of Blake came crashing back into my mind, but I held on to the conversation saying, “On the cheek.”
Reggie laughed and said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.”
Ninety minutes later, I took a bite of the perfectly crisp garlic bread. We were settled into the restaurant waiting for our pasta to be delivered to the table. Reggie asked, “You really kissed him? Damn, I think I’m a little jealous.”
I asked, “Why would you be jealous? You and I have been there and done that with our dating.”
Reggie laughed. “No jealous about getting to kiss Blake, Ian. It’s not always about you. I think he’s hot. Who wouldn’t think Blake is hot? If he’s really gay.”
I sighed and winked at him. “I’m hurt now. You don’t want me any more.”
He reached a hand beneath the table and squeezed my thigh saying, “You’re still my backup plan, sweetie.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my glass of red wine. I said, “It didn’t go anywhere though.”
Reggie folded his arms across his chest. He asked, “He didn’t like a kiss from you? You are a good kisser, Ian. I’ll give you credit for that.”
Reggie was a good kisser, too. That was the best part of our relationship when we were dating. We could have kissed for hours and maybe we should have stuck with that instead of trying to do anything else together as a couple. I said, “I think it scared him. He nearly fell out of the car.”
With a snicker, Reggie said, “I’m trying to imagine that. That would have been funny to see.”
That was exactly what I needed. Finally, I saw some humor in the situation. I said, “It really was, in its own way. He’s so tall, and I was worried he was going to do a face plant right there on the driveway. Then he marched right up those steps and didn’t look back.”
Reggie sipped his wine and said, “Ian, you’re just too much for us mere mortals. We just can’t handle you. It drives us all crazy and insane.” Then he touched a finger to his tongue and placed the fingertip against my forearm making a sizzling sound. “You don’t think he will quit the team, do you? He gave us our fist season-opening win in our history.”
I sipped at my wine and looked over the rim of the glass at Reggie. “I don’t see why he would. He’s just probably sitting up in the house trying to figure out what really happened. We’ve sort of already had our first date.”
“First date?” asked Reggie.
“Yeah, dinner and everything.” Then I told Reggie about being invited over to Blake’s for dinner and how he leaned into me while I was cooking.
“So he likes you, but he’s just shy?” asked Reggie.
I nodded and said, “At least that’s what I’m hoping.” Our server returned to the table carrying two large pasta bowls. I opted for spaghetti Bolognese while Reggie’s choice was fettuccine Alfredo. I looked down at my bowl eager to dig in and asked Reggie, “So how are you doing on the dating front? Any prospects?”
Reggie said, “No, but remember Connor Murphy?”
I twirled the spaghetti on my fork and then sucked the first bite into my mouth. I chewed and looked at Reggie. I contemplated the name while droplets of Alfredo sauce flew when he took his first bite. “Isn’t that the name of the redhead on the team we just played?”
“Yeah, and I dated him for a couple of weeks two years ago.”
I set my fork down and said. “That’s right. He was the one that got in a fight at the Toolbox, isn’t he?”
Reggie nodded. He said, “Yeah, and I ran the other way. I have to admit that it freaked me out a little bit.”
I said, “Okay, so Connor Murphy. Did he say something to you at the game?”
“Yeah, he said we should have a drink sometime. Did you happen to take a look at him?”
I shook my head no. “Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to the guys on the other team except for their strike zones and trying to get them out. What did I miss?”
Reggie sipped his wine. “He’s slimmed down and he had some serious muscle in his arms. And damn, I saw that smile of his again. It’s almost as good as yours, Ian.”
I grinned and asked, “So you’re taking him up on the offer for a drink?”
“Do you think I should?”
I shrugged. “Why not? Just duck if he decides to take another swing at someone.”
* * *
I called Blake up and asked if he wanted a ride to practice. He said, “Sure thing, and I’m sorry I’ve been sort of a hermit the last couple of days. I’ve been trying to clean out the basement. You wouldn’t believe how much junk is down there. I sorta wonder if any of it is worth anything.”
His voice was light-hearted and sounded genuine. I was surprised. Maybe I was making the kiss into something bigger than it really was. I said, “If you need any help down there, just give me a buzz. I kind of like poking around old stuff like that. I found a box of old diaries in my attic that I gave to the historical society.”
While I was piling bats and balls into the car for practice, Blake appeared wearing sweats and an army green T-Shirt with the sleeves torn off. His hair was buzzed back the shortest I’d seen it yet, and he had a big smile on his face. I could feel myself growing weak in the knees.
Blake threw an arm around my shoulder and asked, “Are we gonna win every game this season?”
Just as I started to answer, Reggie pulled up. I said, “If we do, it would be a huge change for the team. I’m not sure if they are ready to handle being winners.”
I didn’t
know that the brief conversation with Blake would foreshadow the tone of practice. When we joined the rest of the team, they were all buzzing about the win and whether or not we could be undefeated.
Then I heard Billy Alvey’s deep voice above the din. “You all are just a little bit crazy if you think one new player will turn a bunch of losers into league champions.”
Then I was shocked to hear Blake speak up. The entire team shifted their gaze on cue as he cleared his throat and said, “It just might happen.”
Reggie whispered in my ear, “This season is gonna be a good one. I’d better start popping the popcorn.”
9
Blake
I was just being ridiculous. It was just a kiss, and I went nuts. Of course, it made me think of kissing Andy and the disaster on the baseball field that followed. My brain knew that it was crazy to connect that with kissing Ian, but my gut was going to need some time to catch up.
When I shut my front door behind me after Ian and I kissed, I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t go outside for the next two days. I hid like a little kid worried that monsters were lurking outside the door. I wondered if I should call Ian, but I didn’t know what to say. I was worried that he would be working in his flower beds if I went outside.
Instead, I just binged on TV shows and then decided to check out the basement of the house. I only went down there one time when I first moved in. It was a little creepy with the darkness and the musty smell, and I wasn’t a big fan of haunted houses. It was divided up into four separate rooms and two of the rooms had floor to ceiling shelves filled with boxes. Some had handwritten names on them, but most were not labeled at all.
I forgot about the basement until I was sitting around the house for more then twenty-four hours with nothing to do but watch TV.
I was just putting my cereal bowl into the dishwasher after breakfast when I decided to make my way down the cellar steps to check out what was lurking below. I promised myself that I would open two boxes and see what was inside.
The light was provided by a single bare-bulb fixture that hung from the ceiling in the main room at the foot of the steps. I didn’t know how to choose which box to open, so I chose one with nothing piled on top. There was a small, plain wood table, not much bigger than a card table, pushed under the steps, and I pulled it out into the middle of the room.
Then I retrieved a large cardboard box from the shelves and placed it in the middle of the table. It was heavy, but it wasn’t difficult to carry. I opened it up, and it was filled with glass dishes wrapped in newspaper. They were beautiful. Some of them were clear glass molded into delicate shapes, and others were colored glass. I glanced at the header on one of the sheets of newspaper and it read April 15, 1957. I wondered if the glass had remained untouched for over fifty years.
I ultimately checked out six boxes before I went back upstairs. One was filled with old black-and-white framed photos of people. Another held more glass. One was full of books. I wondered if any of it was worth money. I decided to put everything back where I got it and think about it all as a future project.
* * *
I decided that my best option for dealing with the aftermath of the kiss was to ignore it. Ian gave me a call asking if I was planning to go to softball practice. I never even considered backing out on the team. I did my best to sound cheerful and asked if he would give me a ride like usual.
I told him a little bit about what I was finding in the basement, and, as we talked, I realized that I was eager to see him again. The kiss lingered in the back of my mind. It was a good one, but I had no intention of following it up with anything else.
The morning before practice, I headed downtown to get a haircut. For me, that’s a pretty simple process. It just amounts to buzzing things short and close to my scalp. Even though it’s quick and simple, it always feels like it’s giving me a new, clean start on something.
After the haircut, I walked about half a mile to the shoreline of Lake Michigan. I stared out over the huge expanse of blue water with the occasional white-capped wave. It made me feel calm. It was sort of like the feeling I got when I looked at the wheat fields on the farm back in Nebraska where we lived when I was just a little boy. On windy days, the green wheat would move back and forth in grand waves that swept up and down the rolling hills.
I was the toast of the team at practice. Since my game-winning home run in the first game of the season, every one was excited about the possibility of sweeping the opposition for the entire season. It seemed like a big jump in logic, but I was happy to join in the excitement and enthusiasm.
Then Billy, with his long black hair, jumped in and told them they were all being a little crazy to think they might suddenly win ever game. To my surprise, I responded and cleared my throat saying, “It just might happen.” I’m not someone who normally wades into any kind of significant disagreement, but my teammates roared their approval at my response.
Practice was more slick and streamlined than ever before. The team concentrated on playing well. Even Antonio seemed less distracted. He asked me a couple of questions about proper handling of ground balls in the field.
We looked like a real team on the field, and everyone was putting out their best efforts. I felt a swell of something in my chest that I soon identified as pride about being part of the team. Maybe the Soft Serves did have it in them to be league champions.
After practice, Reggie left quickly saying that he had a haircut appointment. It seemed a little late in the evening for haircuts to me, but I shrugged it off and said, “I hope you make it.”
When he was gone, Ian looked at me, and I stared back at him. We stood on opposite sides of the car. It felt a little bit awkward without Reggie as a buffer. I said, “The team looked really great tonight.”
He nodded in agreement and said, “You really lit a fire under them. It was exciting to see, and your response to Billy was perfect. He will say things like that, but when it comes down to it, he’s always a team player. He would do anything for you. He just might make a sarcastic comment while he’s doing it.”
I laughed and said, “No, Billy doesn’t bother me. He’s really important to the team, too. He’s a good player.”
Ian said, “You know, about the other night. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”
“Something wrong?” I asked.
Ian frowned. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I’m talking about the kiss.”
The word broke down my little wall I built up about it. I said, “It really was okay. I like you, Ian. You are a great guy and, God knows, a hot guy, too.”
I could see a look of surprise on his face, but he didn’t move. He was trying to think of something to say, and then he finally spoke urging me on by asking, “So…?”
I hung my head and said, “I guess I’m not quite as straight as I pretend to be. I had a bad experience with a guy, though, and I don’t think I’m ready to jump into being gay.”
Ian said, “You don’t just ‘jump into’ being gay…you are gay.”
Whether it was there or not, I heard something like a lecturing tone. I put my hands on the top of the car and said, “Look, you don’t need to tell me all about that. I probably said it all the wrong way. Yes, I’m gay. Yes, I get my rocks off thinking about guys, but I’m not dating guys, and I’m not going to bed with guys. I’m not ready to be out about being gay, if it’s really that, but I doubt it. I’m not hiding a damn thing, because I’m doing nothing. I just want to be me, and if somebody wants to think I’m straight, because I’m not fucking a guy, then that’s fine.”
Ian blinked. He started to walk around the car toward me and then stopped. He said, “I’m sorry. I probably said things all the wrong way, too. You are an awesome guy, Blake. I really think that.”
I didn’t expect that kind of response. I expected him to rattle on about the evils of me not being out and proud. The only thing that I could think of to say was, “You are, too, Ian.” Then I said, “There’s
another reason I feel like keeping it all a little close to my chest.”
“What’s that?” asked Ian.
“I’m starting to look for that job. The money I’ve got to keep me afloat isn’t going to last forever. I might be wrong, but it still seems like in a lot of places being openly gay isn’t the best strategy for being hired.”
He sighed and shook his head, “Yeah, you are probably right about that, unfortunately. Things are getting better, particularly downtown, but if you are looking out in the suburbs, it can be hard for a gay guy. I’ve had too many friends turned down when their qualifications were solid.” Then he asked, “What kind of work are you looking for?”
I reached up and ran a hand across the top of my head. I was a little bit ashamed that I couldn’t say some kind of professional field, but the reality was that I didn’t take college seriously and ended up with a generalist degree that was likely worth very little on the open job market. I said, “Really, almost anything. I just worked a bunch of odd jobs around the baseball. Fortunately, I don’t need a lot of money. My uncle owns the house, so I’m not even paying rent.”
Ian smiled and said, “Well, I’ll definitely let you know if I see anything pop up. Let me ask you, would you take something in the lgbtq community if that popped up? I’m just asking because Reggie has a lot of connections through his work, and sometimes he asks me if I know anyone good for a particular position.”
I said, “Oh, yeah, definitely. I will consider almost anything.” I felt humbled that they would want to help me out. “You know, that’s really nice of you, because you don’t have to do that.”
Ian walked the rest of the way around the car. He stepped up close and looked up into my face. He said, “Blake, I really want to be friends. We can back off from the kiss, but everything else has been great. So, please, consider it as a favor for a friend.”
I couldn’t help myself. I opened my arms and reached out to Ian for a hug. I said, “I want to be friends, too, and I feel like I’m a little bit of a dope about life right now, but I’ll catch on.” I held him tight in my arms. He felt good. Then I tensed feeling worried that it could lead to another kiss.
Complete Game: The League, Book 1 Page 6
