Page 17 of Curve Ball
Which she hasn’t done.
So a small part of me is holding onto that hope that she doesn’t completely want to cut me out.
I decide to send her another text, something a little more personal, a little more raw.
Gael
Do you remember the night we met? At Continental? The way your eyes sparkled in the low light, the way your lips curved into a smile when I made you laugh? Your smile lives rent-free in my head, Adri. Look, if I came on too strong with anything, just tell me and I can dial it back.
Gael
Just give this a chance.
I hit send and wait, hoping, praying for a response. Nothing and my heart sinks a little more.
Another two weeks pass,and I’m a mess. I’m distracted and distant, and it’s affecting my game. My coach notices my teammates’ notice, and I know I need to get my shittogether. But how can I when the woman I care about is slipping away?
I decide to take a chance, to lay it all on the line.
Gael
Adri, I know I’m probably driving you crazy with these texts, but I can’t help it. Please, just let me know you’re okay.
This is it. The final straw.
If she doesn’t respond, I’ll know it’s truly over and I need to move on. And that thought terrifies me more than anything else. I hit send and hold my breath, hoping, praying for a response.
I don’t get one.
The silence is deafening, and it hurts like a bitch.
If there’s nothing tomorrow, I’ll delete her number and move on.
I toss and turn in bed, my mind racing with thoughts of Adriana, of us, of what could have been. I’m thinking that it’s me that’s the problem. Maybe I’m just not worthy of love.
Maybe I’m just supposed to be alone.
Me and baseball against the world.
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of my alarm, feeling more exhausted than when I went to bed. I check my phone, hoping against hope that she might have responded in the middle of the night, but there’s nothing.
I promised myself I would do this.
Scrolling in my contacts, I hover over the delete button and a tear rolls down my cheek as I hit the red button.
Done.
My chest aches with something terrible, but life has to move on, right?
8
ADRIANA
The familiar ache in my chest is still present when I wake up, the one that’s been gnawing at me for weeks now. Gael’s messages have been a constant reminder of what I’m missing, of what I want but am too afraid to reach out and grab. Each text from him is a little dagger, a sweet torture that I can’t seem to escape. I want nothing more than to jump headfirst into whatever this is with him, but the fear of getting hurt again holds me back.
Marco’s face flashes before my eyes, his cruel words echoing in my mind.Why can’t you look more like these women? Don’t you care about what you look like?I can’t go out with you if you wear that. If you want to dress like a whore, I can treat you like one, Adriana.He would say these things with such ease, like they were facts instead of the harsh lies they were. And the cheating—God, the cheating. He would blame me for his infidelities, saying I wasn’t enough, that I drove him to it. Two years of being used as a doormat cut deep, leaving emotional scars that run deeper than any physical wound.
I roll over in bed, pulling the covers tighter around me, but it does little to ease the chill that has settled in my bones. Gael feltdifferent. When he looked into my eyes, it was like I could feel the words he spoke in my soul. Like he was connecting with mine, trying to tie them together. But I know it would have all ended; the honeymoon phase ends in relationships, and then what?
