Kyle Chambers tossed his pitching glove into the locker and then sat heavily on the wood bench in the spring training locker room of the San Antonio RoadRunners. He lowered his head and swept his fingers through the sweat-soaked tangle of tousled brown hair on his head. After fourteen seasons in the majors, spring training had lost all of its excitement and allure. It was simply the time of year to rev the engine for the grind of one more season of 162 games.
His thirty-sixth birthday came and went on January 3. Kyle spent the day quietly and headed out to dinner with his parents as the last night of Christmas traditions with the family. It felt like only a few days rolled by before the official mid-February reporting date for pitchers and catchers.
February 26 was the veteran’s first start of the pre-season. The start was something of a wash. It was solid if unspectacular. Kyle left the game with a 2-2 tie in the sixth inning. The relief pitching staff blew the final innings, and San Antonio ended up pasted with a 7-2 loss.
It was all now in the rearview mirror. As he twisted his fingers into his tousled hair, he heard voices behind him. He couldn’t make out most of the words, but a few stood out: “the nephew is gay,” “toughen up,” and “they kill the gays out there.” The final phrase was followed by derisive laughter.
Kyle looked up and slowly rose to his feet. His six-foot-four-inch frame towered over everyone else on the team other than fellow pitchers. It was a trait that he occasionally used to his advantage. Now was shaping up to be one of those. The source of the derisive laughter was Roger Jackson, a twenty-three-year-old rookie hopeful. He was engaged in conversation with Ed Wolfson, a veteran second baseman looking to hang on to his position in the roster after a rugged previous season.
Striding across the locker room to face the pair, Kyle asked, “What was that?”
Ed looked up. “Hey, Kyle, just joking around.”
Still not successfully reading the situation, Roger grunted, “Poor fucker has a fag for a nephew living out in Idaho. Just told him the kid needs to toughen…”
Glaring down at the pair, Kyle growled, “Get up and tell me the story again.”
Ed reached an arm out to try and stop Roger from rising to his feet. Desperate to prevent things from escalating further, he pleaded, “C’mon Kyle…he’s young, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
Roger shoved Ed’s arm away and rose to his feet. The pitcher still had a four-inch height advantage, but that didn’t stop Roger from accepting the challenge. Clearing his throat, he said, “Wolfson here said he has a nephew that’s a fag. He lives out in Idaho, and I said they kill fuckin’…”
Before he could finish the sentence, a loud cracking sound from Roger’s jaw echoed through the locker room as it connected with Kyle’s fist. The younger player crumpled to the floor, his hip bouncing off the bench, until he found himself sitting on the concrete floor rubbing at his jaw and staring upward. “What the fuck? You’re fucking crazy!”
Kyle growled, “And you’re a fucking bigot.” He could feel pain shooting through his shoulder, and it unleashed a buzz of fear racing up his spine. A shoulder injury was the last thing he needed to sustain at this point in his career. The flood of adrenaline helped him ignore the pain and refuse to show any weakness. “And if you have any ounce of intelligence in that empty skull, you will just stay down there on the floor until I’m ready to leave the locker room.”
Roger started to rise once more, but this time Ed stuck his foot—still wearing cleats—in the young player’s gut, keeping him pinned to the floor. He mumbled, “You’ve already been enough of an ass for one day. Stay down there, or I’ll deck you too.”
Kyle slung a bag over the opposite shoulder and winced slightly. “Ed, in the future if you ever have any questions about your nephew being gay, ask someone who gives a shit, like me.” He spit in the direction of Roger, purposefully just missing his face by inches.
With slow deliberate strides, his neck bent slightly, and his gaze fixed on the ground just a few feet forward, Kyle left the locker room and stepped out into the hot Arizona sun. His mind was still focused on the blatant bigotry in the young player’s comments.
Still in the closet after fourteen seasons, he knew he was not the only one. In fact, Kyle had slept with more than you could count on two hands. He had gone to bed with a few coaches and umpires, too. The intolerance was fading quickly , but baseball was lagging behind other sports in having key players come out. Kyle decided to wait until retirement. Some teammates knew, but they were keeping their mouths shut until hearing word that it was okay to talk. Retirement was likely to come in just three or four years, and Kyle planned to look for a serious relationship then. For now, one-night encounters or a night here and there in the bed of a trusted friend would suffice.
By the time he reached the private apartment he rented less than a quarter mile from the spring training stadium, the shoulder was beginning to throb. Kyle stopped swinging both arms as he walked, and held his right forearm across his body supported by his left hand, like he was wearing a sling. He thought that a pack of ice might bring down the swelling and ease the pain enough that he could get back to throwing in less than twenty-four hours.
He held his arm close to his chest while he turned the key in the lock. The cell phone in his pocket began to ring while he pushed the door open and then kicked it shut with his left foot. Reflexively, he began to reach for his pocket with the right hand, and that sent a bolt of pain through his shoulder. “Fuck!”
Reaching across his body with the left hand, Kyle managed to tug the phone from his pocket and answer just before the ringing stopped. It was Ed. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Kyle? You nearly broke the kid’s jaw.”
With a growl, Kyle responded, “Maybe next time he’ll think twice before opening that fucking mouth. Of course, it doesn’t sound like he knows how to think…” He lowered his long frame onto the sofa and leaned against the corner. At last, the shoulder felt comfortable and at rest.
“He’s fuming and pissed, Kyle. What if he goes to the press?”
“Let the fucker go to the press. I’ll come out, charge him with harassment, and we’ll have the whole fucking press corps descend on us. His career will be over in an instant. If you’ve got a line in with him…you tell him that, Ed.”
Ed paused for a moment and in a quiet voice asked, “You wouldn’t really break it all wide open, would you Kyle?”
Kyle sighed heavily. “I’m getting old, Ed. I’m thirty-six, and I’m lucky if I’ve got two years left on this arm. I’ve got nothing to lose, and I’ve put up with fourteen years of locker room shit. A wet-behind-the-ears rookie should know better. You didn’t tell him about me, did you?”
Ed said, “No, he just thinks you’re a politically correct bleeding heart. I told him I thought you had a cousin who was gay, and you had helped him through hard times.”
With a laugh, Kyle said, “That’s funny. I do have a cousin who is a lesbian. She’s on me all the time to come out.” Then he winced as he shifted slightly, and another bolt of pain shot through the shoulder.
Having played baseball since age five, Ed knew the sound of pain from a fellow athlete. He responded with concern. “What’s up, Kyle? You sound like you’re in pain.”
“It’s nothing.” He gritted his teeth on the second word. “Just aches and pains.”
“Did you injure yourself when you threw that punch?”
Kyle grumbled. “I’m not giving any garden-variety bigot the satisfaction of leaving me with an injury. I gotta go, Ed. I’m taking the day off tomorrow, but I’ll be back at the field on Wednesday. I’ll let the coaches know. They won’t give me shit over just one day off.”
Ed said, “You take care of that arm. We need you this season if we’re going to make a run.”
Kyle disconnected the call and lay back against the sofa cushions with a groan. He didn’t want to admit it, but the shoulder was worse than he thought. It was going to be an evening of ice and hot showers and saying a little prayer in his head that a good night’s sleep would be the perfect cure all.
By 8:00 p.m., the pain was still too sharp for venturing out into public to find dinner. The refrigerator was mostly empty, so he called out for a pizza. When it arrived, the delivery man asked, “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”
Between clenched teeth, Kyle replied, “I’m okay. I’m just a little sore. Can you just bring the pizza inside here for me and set it on the counter?”
“Hey, aren’t you that pitcher on the RoadRunners? Chambers, isn’t it?”
Kyle mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I pitched a game today, and, at my age, the arm is always sore after.”
The delivery man was young, maybe mid-twenties, and had an athletic build. His forehead wrinkled in concern. “You got some pain meds for that, man? You really don’t look so hot.”
Kyle stepped toward him saying, “Yep, I’ve got all I need. Do you want an autograph? If not, I want to eat that pizza and be alone.”
The man shook his head. “No, I won’t bother you for an autograph, and I just try to be helpful. My manager says too helpful. You have a good night, man. Enjoy the pizza.”
Kyle pulled a five from his pocket to add to the tip. “Here, have a good night. That’s a little extra.”
The pizza man smiled. “Thanks, and you, too. Get some good meds and get some sleep.” He backed out the door and pulled it shut.
Taking the man’s advice, Kyle shuffled his way to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found the anti-inflammatories. He choked down four along with the first slice of pizza. It tasted good, and he convinced himself the pain was finally easing.
The edge dissipated enough that he turned on the TV and engaged his mind with a lighthearted home improvement show. He didn’t realize at first that he was talking out loud when he said, “Someday, I’ll have time for all of that.”
Halfway through the second slice of the pizza, Kyle found himself drifting off to sleep. He awoke with a start an hour later, having dropped the plate and pizza to the floor. A small, slick pool of grease formed on the tile floor beneath the overturned plate. Without a second thought, he reached with his right hand to pick it up and yelled out in agony.
Five minutes later, after pacing in the apartment and holding his arm to his chest, he found himself on the phone with Lex, his favorite of the team trainers. Lex had twenty years of big-league experience and devoted most of his attention to pitchers. He asked, “What’s wrong? You’re still sore from the game?”
With his teeth clenched tight and his breath making a hissing noise, Kyle said, “No, I fucked up, Lex. Can I meet you at the stadium? I’ll tell you then.”
The stadium was dark, but Lex was given after-hours clearance for athlete emergencies. With Kyle seated on an examination table in the trainer’s space just off the locker room, he asked the pitcher to remove his shirt.
Kyle began to lift his right arm and could barely clear his elbow above the same height as the lower end of his rib cage. Lex ordered, “Don’t push it, Kyle. I’ll help you out. But you’ve got to tell me what happened.”
“Do you promise me none of this gets leaked out, Lex?”
“I’m in medicine, Kyle. I don’t tell stories on my players.” Lex gingerly pulled the shirt off over Kyle’s head, and then pushed it down and off his right arm. The elder pitcher’s body was ruggedly built, and he was serious about keeping fit in the gym. His abs were tight with the muscle definition showing.
Kyle said, “One of the rookies was spouting homophobic shit. I pitched a lousy game, and I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Something just hit me wrong, and I decked him.”
Lex shook his head. “And, as incredibly powerful as your body is, it isn’t used to throwing punches.” He wrapped his hands around the shoulder, feeling it radiate heat, and pushed gently at the inflamed tissue. Kyle winced and closed his eyes.
Without opening his eyes, he asked, “Just how bad is it?”
Lex shook his head. “I can’t tell for sure. At least nothing is truly dislocated, but we won’t know what the actual injury is until you go in and have some images taken of it. We should get you in tomorrow, Kyle.”
Kyle nodded slowly. “Just get it set up. I’ll go. Do you have any meds for the pain?”
Lex gently pushed at the inflamed shoulder one more time and then ran his fingers along Kyle’s collarbone, and then up to his neck, gently pushing and prodding. “I’ll get you some pills to get you through the night and a sling for the arm. You didn’t injure anything else? How’s the rookie?”
“I think everything else is fine. According to Ed, I just knocked the fear of God into him. Someday they all just have to learn we’re all on the same team.”
Lex shook his head. “I have to say you have my sympathy for fighting the comments, but this isn’t the way. The next time, can’t you just have it out in words?”
“Yeah, next time maybe I’ll just file a harassment complaint with the front office. I’ll threaten to come clean with all of the comments I’ve heard through the years. You know, Lex, I wrote a lot of them down.”
Lex simply shook his head. “One of these days, Kyle. It might not be before you leave the RoadRunner uniform, but one of these days, comments like that will be over in the locker room. It’s a matter of time.”
The Wedding Season #5
1
Announcement
Theo was dying to tell someone, but Eric made him wait. He insisted that they share the news with their best friends Linc and Hudson first before anyone else. The final weekly brunch before opening day was the perfect occasion. Theo agreed with that reasoning, but keeping quiet was not Theo’s strong point.
He lay in bed at 5:00 a.m. staring at the ceiling. Eric was sprawled on his back, too, but Theo’s boyfriend and future husband was sound asleep with a beatific smile on his face. 5:00 a.m. was too early to wake Eric up even if the good morning involved moist lips and a tongue wrapped around something thick and hard.
Eric’s smooth, muscular body was in top condition for the opening of the new season. Theo’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his boyfriend’s bare chest rise and fall with slow, steady, deep breathing.
Spring training was over, and Eric was starting his third year as one of the top catchers in baseball. The only difference from the previous two, as Theo saw it, was this long season of 162 games would only be a prelude to one of the biggest blow-out weddings of all time.
Theo closed his eyes and imagined Eric in black tux and tails looking just like the guy on the top of a wedding cake. His blond hair would be combed back, and his blue eyes would be sparkling like the ocean in the summer sun. Theo imagined glancing back at the gathered crowd. It would be a handsome group. Big league baseball players are like that. Linc and Hudson would be at their sides as co-best men standing solid and firm, perfect images of strength and stability.
Theo was startled back into the present when Eric grunted and rolled over on to his side. Theo wanted to at least send Nathan a text message. Maybe then Nathan would do something special for them at the brunch. Theo still missed some of the spectacular food displays Nathan created for the Players’ Partners charitable arm of the team. Now that Nathan owned his own restaurant, one of the hottest places in town, he didn’t have time to cater events like meet-and-greets with underprivileged kids or the annual Gloves-n-Stuff auction for charity.
Eric opened one eye and grumbled, “The sun isn’t up yet, Theo. Go back to sleep.”
Theo pushed himself up to a sitting position and said, “I can’t. I could send a text message to Cheryl. It’s only 3:00 a.m. on a Saturday night out there. She’s probably still awake. She might even still be out with friends.”
“You don’t know Cheryl very well, do you?”
Theo said, “I only went to school with her for one year. You know her much more — intimately — than I do.” He giggled.
Eric reached out a long arm and grabbed Theo’s right nipple twisting it. “You know that nothing ever happened between us.”
“Ouch!” yelped Theo.
“You deserve it. Now go to sleep.” Eric rolled over to face the opposite direction and pulled a pillow over his head. The movement caused the sheet to slip down exposing more of his body.
“Yeah, right. Now that I’m staring at your bare ass…”
Eric grabbed the sheet, yanked it up to his chin, and grunted, “Good night, Theo. I love you.”
Somehow, Theo survived the next five hours. He slept part of the time, and then he occupied himself for thirty minutes browsing back through the hundreds of photos with Eric on his Facebook account. They were the illustrations for countless stories of good memories — photos of Eric and Theo in front of the Eiffel Tower, Eric and Theo on the beach in Hawaii, Eric and Theo in kayaks among the islands of Greece, and many more. Finally, he looked through some of the assignment photos he took when they first met while Eric was still a player in the minor leagues.
By the time they reached Plate, Nathan’s meticulously modern take on a diner, smartly dressed in crisp new sport jackets, Theo’s heart was pounding with excitement. Eric spoke with the host and said, “We’re meeting Lincoln Kirby for brunch.”
“Oh, yes, Sir. He is already here. Let me show you to the table.” Nathan came through for his friends. Linc and Hudson were already seated at one of the best tables in the house. It sported a beautiful view of Sullivan Park downtown. Families were already out in paddle boats, and mallards swam by with thoughts about creating new families of spring ducklings.
Hudson spotted Eric and Theo first. He stood and reached across the table for Linc’s elbow. Both beamed their best charming smiles and gave Eric and Theo robust morning hugs. Hudson said, “Mimosas are on the way. Have a seat. Isn’t the park gorgeous this morning? Nathan knows how to spoil us.”
Eric said, “He’s good at that. It’s good the two of you are here a few minutes early. I think poor Theo is about to explode with news to share.”
Theo was literally sitting on his hands but noticeably still bouncing slightly in his seat.
Tall, thin Linc, Eric’s teammate, and just as talented at pitching as Eric was catching, asked, “What’s up, Theo? Did you win the Pulitzer with a photo?”
Theo gave a toothy smile and said, “Ohhh, much better than that, Linc. Much better than that!”
Hudson leaned forward. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. What’s the big news?”
With a dramatic flourish, Theo pulled his left hand out and held it in the center of the table. A solid gold band sparkled in the light cast by a fixture on the ceiling.
Hudson looked at the ring and then glanced at Eric. “You popped the question?”
Eric nodded solemnly. “Yes, I did. I’ve decided to make our relationship legal and permanent. Theo will be stuck with me forever.”
Hudson said, “You do know Theo’s a handful.”
With a laugh, Eric said, “I think I knew that back in fifth grade.”
In his deep rumbling voice, Linc said “Well, tell us the story. There must be a story.”
Hudson reached for Theo’s hand. “And I want to see the ring. I have to admit I’m a little envious.” He cast a quick glance across the table to Linc.
Theo began to recount the story. He said, “Eric completely surprised me. I mean, he surprised me with the particular moment, but it wasn’t a huge surprise that he proposed. We’ve been talking about it off and on for at least six months.”
Eric rested an elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his hand. “Theo has talked about it off and on almost since we started dating.”
Hudson gripped Theo’s hand and turned it right and left. “Does the ring have an inscription?”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of four mimosas. Linc said, “Before we hear any more of the tale, let’s have a toast.” He raised his glass and intoned, “To the second best couple on the face of the earth!”
Theo frowned slightly and asked, “Who’s first?”
Hudson said, “I think he means us.”
Theo replied, “Oh,” and he held his glass aloft. With a resonating clink of glass, they officially celebrated the engagement of Theo Bachman and Eric Steiner to be married.
After they all drank, Hudson continued, “You were saying…about the inscription?”
Theo looked at Eric and asked, “Is it okay if I take it off to show him?”
Eric nodded. “Of course. I’m sort of thinking this won’t be the last time.”
Theo slipped the ring from his finger and offered it to Hudson. He said, “It might be a little hard to read because it’s so small.”
“Well, I can see where it says, ‘Theo and Eric forever,’ on the inside.”
Theo said, “Turn it and see if you can figure out what’s on the opposite side of the inside.”
Hudson squinted. “Oh, that’s very sweet, too.” He held out the ring for Linc while he said, “It’s a camera and a catcher’s mitt.”
Theo blushed. “Yeah, and I didn’t say anything about the inscriptions. Eric did that all on his own.”
“And did he get down on his knees?” asked Linc. “Of course, being a catcher, on his knees is not unfamiliar territory.”
“Is that supposed to be a double entendre?” asked Eric.
“Take it as you wish,” said Linc.
Hudson sipped at his drink. “Yes, I want to hear the rest of the story.”
Theo slipped the ring back on and pulled his hand back. “It was a complete surprise, and it was beautiful.” He reached up and wiped at his right eye with the back of his hand. “We were just out for a walk. We mostly walk just in the few blocks around the apartment building. Otherwise, Eric gets mobbed for autographs. The people in our neighborhood have mostly already done that, so they just say hi and move on.”
“Where exactly was the proposal?” asked Hudson.
“Do you know that fountain in the little courtyard at the back of the building?”
They both nodded.
“Well, a few people were around. Some were sitting on benches chatting, and a few others were walking their dogs. Suddenly, Eric said, ‘Stop for a second.’ I stopped and asked, ‘Is something wrong?’”
Eric said, “Theo is always a little touchy that way.”
Theo waved a hand ignoring the comment. “Eric whipped this little box out of his pocket, and then he was on one knee on the sidewalk. I blushed, and then he asked, ‘Theo Bachman, I fell for you back when I first met you in the fifth grade. We were meant to be together. Will you marry me?’”
Linc grabbed Eric’s elbow. “Aww, that’s very sweet, buddy.”
Theo said, “I had to choke back the tears long enough to say yes. It wasn’t easy. I held out my hand so he could put the ring on my finger and the tears just started to flow.”
Eric added, “All the people around applauded. It was great. I couldn’t have planned it any better. The way Theo was blubbering made me cry, too.”
“Oh man, good thing none of the media were around. You would have been on shows for a week,” said Linc.
“Somehow I got up from my knee without falling over, and then Theo gave me a huge hug and he pulled me up off the ground as we kissed.”
Hudson reached up and wiped a tear from his eye.
Eric said, “Hudson, you’re crying.”
“You know us California guys. We’re a little…um…emotional.”
Linc said, “This really is wonderful guys, but I need to remind you that we do have another really big event coming up soon.”
Theo’s eyes opened wide. He wondered if Linc and Hudson had their own announcement to make. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
Linc continued, “Tuesday is our opening game, and it’s here at home. I’ll take the mound and, with Eric’s help, we’re gonna kick things off in style.”
Theo sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was looking forward to the new season as much as anyone, but, for the moment, his romantic heart was elsewhere.
Linc said, “This is the year we make it to the postseason.”
“We’ll at least make a serious run at it,” said Eric.
Linc shook his head fervently. “No serious runs. Been there and done that last season. This year we accept nothing less than the chance to be October heroes.”
Hudson raised his glass. “Let’s toast to that, too.”
“To October heroes,” said Linc.
“And before we talk about that any more, I think there are some things Theo hasn’t told us,” said Hudson. “Where and when is the wedding?”
Theo leaned forward eagerly engaged in the conversation once more. “We don’t have a where quite yet, but the when is the second Saturday in November.”
Hudson said, “That will be really quick if these guys go to the World Series.”
Linc added, “Not if, when.”
Theo said, “It will work out fine. We figured we will have at least a week free even with a seven game series. You all know me. By then, I won’t be able to wait. I’ll be itching to elope so we can take off on the honeymoon.”
“Is this going to be just a little wedding, or…”
Theo interrupted Hudson. “It’s going to be huge. It will be a big, fat, gay wedding. I’ve been dreaming about this since high school.”
Linc looked at Eric and was met by a shrug. Eric said, “He’s mine, for better or worse, and I think we’re gonna have a big, fat, gay wedding. I don’t really have a choice about that.”
Theo said, “And I’m going to have Nathan make us the most awesome wedding cake ever. Maybe seven layers high.”
“Maybe five will do,” said Eric.
As if his ears were burning, Nathan appeared at the table saying, “You don’t have any food yet. Is service running slow?”
Hudson laughed. “We haven’t given anyone an order yet. Theo and Eric were sharing some big news.”
“Big news?” asked Nathan.
Theo pulled out his ring again. “We’re getting hitched!”
Nathan gripped Theo’s wrist to take a close look at the ring. “Very very nice.”
Theo added, “And we’ll need a caterer…”
Nathan said, “Well, I’ve kind of moved out of that business, but for such good friends, yes, of course. I’ll see what I can do.”
Eric asked, “Is Drew still in town?”
Nathan shook his head. “No, he left last night. Opening day for him is tomorrow. You guys start Tuesday, right?”
Linc nodded in the affirmative. “That’s when we begin the march to the playoffs. I’m pitching, and with Eric behind the plate, we’ll notch the first win of the season.”
Hudson smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a good thing we have no shortage of confidence.”
“Are you staying for opening day, Hudson? Or do you have to be back to teach and coach at the high school?”
He nodded. “Yep, I took a couple of days off, and then I catch the last flight out for Iowa. We’re already a month into our season back in Mt. Evans.”
“Will your team be making it to the state high school postseason?” asked Nathan.
Hudson grinned. “Linc and I have a little bet running on that. I’ll keep you posted as the two seasons unfold.”
