It’s a quiet morning because the coming distance looms. s*x has the familiar bittersweet quality. Always amazes me how pleasure mixes so well with pain. After, we lay in each other’s arms because that’s all we want, all we’ve ever wanted. To hold on.
Missing each other is a given, but it still gets said.
“I’ll miss you like hell,” I tell Tommy. “I know you know it, but I can’t say it enough.”
“Miss you, too.”
Kisses are exchanged before I leave, the final “good game” is uttered, and I soak him up all I can. Visual imprinting, as if I didn’t know him as well as I do myself. Then I’m in a cab headed to the ballpark, fatigue on top of the ache of parting. When I join my teammates in the clubhouse, I welcome their upbeat attitudes, their pranks and silliness. I need them today, need them b
