Page 69 of One More Round

“Well, believe it or not, I didn’t call to give you an update,” she chuckles. “I really did want to ask about visiting. But since you asked, I do have one: Todd is doing really well. You know, since he’s been in the new treatment facility, he’s had round-the-clock care and access to some really great therapists. I talk to him a few times a week, and he seems a lot more stable. He’s not ready for visitors—his choice—butheis the one who callsme.”

“That’s really great to hear, Mom.” I genuinely mean it. While the things Todd confessed to me all those months ago still sting when I dwell on them, I have accepted them.

“I just feel like this is a turning point for him. That he might be able to finally get his illness under control and live his life to the fullest,” she says, her voice full of hope.

“That would be ideal,” I respond.

“You know, he asks about you,” she tells me.

“Really?” I’m honestly floored by this news.

“Yes, about once a month or so. I told him that you moved to LA shortly after you were last here and since then he’s asked.” Once again, her tone is hopeful and full of pride.

“Well, next time you talk to him and he asks, tell him I said hi.” I don’t think we are anywhere near a phone call ourselves, but this is a good sign.

“Will do,” she replies. At that moment, the oven gives me a one-minute warning that my pizza is almost done.

“Hey, Mom, my pizza is almost ready to pull from the oven, I’m gonna have to let you go.”

“Oh, of course. Thanks for chatting,” she hurries.

“Anytime. I’ll let you know what to expect from the upcoming Fire episodes before my article goes up next week.”

“Oh, good, I was hoping you would. I love getting the inside scoop.”

We say goodbye right as the oven timer starts to ring.

I slice my pizza and take my plate and bottle of water over to my coffee table where I settle in to get started on the shows I need to watch for next week’s articles. This is my new normal and I love it, but I would much rather have a friend or two here to join me.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Simon

I’m standing at the dresser in my closet, pulling out the clothes I’m packing for our trip tomorrow. We are heading to Atlanta for a tournament and I’m trying to stay on top of things instead of waiting until the last minute to pack, like I usually do. We are gearing up for our busy season, which is full of several tournaments. We usually stay in the US but at the end of the month, we are flying to the UK. I always enjoy those longer trips abroad a tad more than all our US events. I wouldn’t mind traveling for pleasure someday though, with no other commitments.

It’s something that Gia and I used to talk about: all the places we wanted to travel to. She didn’t at the time have a lot of traveling experience, but when you’re young and don’t love your home life, you tend to imagine the possibilities. Again, in our all-too-brief second chance at a relationship, we talked about the places we’d been and would like to go. She didn’t have a passport and I’d only been to the UK, so we still had lots of dreaming to do.

And speaking of dreaming, I’m pretty sure this thought process I’ve just had—the one that leads me to think about the girl in question—will haunt my dreams for the next couple of nights. Typically, I have the same dream, which is actually borderline nightmarish. It’s of her in my tree house, as an adult, telling me she is leaving me. When I beg her to stay, she laughs at me and tells me she never loved me. It’s stupid really, but it jerks me out of bed several nights a week. Occasionally, my dreams of Gia will wake me up in a sweat for another reason. With my hand wrapped around my dick, panting her name. It’s a lose-lose situation, really.

She’s been gone for months now and I’m not sure when I’ll get over this. While I’m far better off this time around than I was when I was sixteen, the Gia-sized hole that was starting to heal is back. I fear it’s with me for good. While I’m not fighting the depression I went into when she left the first time, puppy-love heartbreak has nothing on real, love-of-your-life heartbreak.

Yeah, I’m not scared to admit it. I know she was “the one” for me and that I will probably always love her. And maybe I’ll fall in love again, but it’s really not on my radar right now. Right now, my job is my focus. Like it always has been.

We’ve been having the best season yet, sweeping the five tournaments we’ve competed in so far. We still have five more, plus the championships in August. But I can’t help but feel like our gaming career is shifting. I don’t know why I feel this way. Dex, Bernie, and the rest of the team haven’t really said anything to make me wonder how much longer we’ll stay together. Dynamics change within pro teams. It’s not often you find a team like ours that consists of the same five members for so long. Link left our team and was replaced by Chuck two years ago. Other than that, it’s been the same.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Dex asks from the doorway of my room.

“Yeah, I need a reason to put this packing off,” I mutter.

“Cool,” he says, and he turns and walks away. I guess that means we are chatting in the living room. So, I follow. Link is sprawled out on the couch. I pull the pillow out from under him as I walk by and smack him with it, telling him to make room. With a humph he kicks his legs off and pushes into a sitting position at the opposite end of the couch. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and turn my attention to Dex.

“So, what’s up?” I ask.

“This better be good, I was right in the middle of Chicago Fire. I got some insider info that one of the main cast members was being killed off tonight.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to think about where he got his intel. I hit Link again with the pillow at my side.

“Dude. We have DVR, it’s recording right now.”

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