Page 65 of Breakout Year
“Like here?” Eitan’s eyes were pleading, and Akiva would call it manipulative except for how the best and worst part about Eitan was how sincerely he meant everything.
“I can stay over if you want. I brought clothes,” Akiva said. “Also, you’re almost out of tea, and someone has to get more.”
“Sorry about all this.” Like the problem with Eitan getting hurt was that he was an imposition. “It’s really not as bad as it looks. Just hurts like a motherfucker where the guy spiked me. The team wants me to rest it out of an abundance of caution.” He snorted as if he was questioning the idea of caution. “I told my parents not to fly out.” He shut his eyes, lines radiating from them in discomfort, and Akiva had already kissed him there once, on that ill-fated night, so it wouldn’t be that big a deal to do it again, except for how it would be.
He turned to Williams, who seemed like he was the most in charge, given that the other players were either losing at poker or throwing cheerful insults at the TV. “What do I need to know?” Akiva asked.
“Mostly, he’s gonna wanna do shit, and he’s not allowed to do shit.” Williams handed him a folder with information concerning Eitan’s care, and it was probably some kind of medical information confidentiality breach—except for how Akiva was listed on the first page as one of Eitan’s four emergency contacts, right after his parents and his agent.
Akiva buried his surprise in reading through various instructions: Williams was right. Eitan was pretty firmly not allowed to do much more than rest, ice, compress, and elevate for the next few days, after which he’d be reevaluated. With only two weeks left in the season, it was possible that he was done for the year. Why didn’t you move out of the way?
So he thanked Williams for the files and seated himself on the oversized chair next to the couch where Eitan’s eyes were drifting shut like he was fighting sleep.
The other Cosmos players must have seen his exhaustion too. The volume on the TV got turned down, the living room lights dimmed. Guys came over and said their goodbyes, waving to Eitan without waking him. One, Bishop, tapped him gently on the arm in an attaboy before bidding them both good night.
Akiva mostly associated the sound of ballplayers walking with the crunch of metal cleats against concrete, but somehow, they drifted out one by one silently, until it was just Akiva and Williams and Eitan in the half dark.
“You need to know where anything is?” Williams asked.
Which was how Akiva ended up in Eitan’s bathroom with the Cosmos second-best relief pitcher, who was adamant that Akiva understood the various pills already dispensed into the pill-a-day sorter that someone from the team must have left.
“You know,” Williams said, after indicating the painkillers Eitan could have one more of and the others he had to switch to, and the baby aspirin he needed to take to prevent blood clots while he had his leg elevated, and the tin of Tiger Balm that Aguila brought over because he believed it could cure everything from influenza to heartbreak, “Eitan was pretty torn up about whatever happened between you.”
Eitan’s bathroom was large for a New York apartment bathroom and small for a space in which Akiva was being glared at accusingly. “Why didn’t he get out of the way of that slide?” Akiva asked.
“Fuck if I know. Maybe he didn’t have time to react. Maybe he thought the guy was gonna pull away. I don’t think anyone expected Goodwin to destroy his ankle.”
“I’m not that surprised someone would do that.”
Williams scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah.”
“I’m planning to spend a few days here,” Akiva said. If Eitan still wants me around once the painkillers have worn off. “I know the injury-recovery drill.”
“That’s good. You seem…organized.” Said like Williams knew Eitan would refuse help if given the option.
“I’m glad he has a friend—friends—looking out for him.”
“You say that like it wasn’t a sure thing.”
Akiva gave his own version of the You have to be fucking kidding me expression that made Williams huff a laugh. “Yeah,” Williams said, “I wasn’t too sure either.”
“About having a gay friend?”
Williams shrugged and didn’t deny it. “I got a gay cousin. I see him at Thanksgiving. It’s not the same.”
“No,” Akiva agreed, “it’s not.”
“I didn’t know what Eitan was gonna be like.”
“You mean, if he was gonna be all”—Akiva raised his eyebrows meaningfully—“queer?”
Williams didn’t get angry, and he didn’t flinch, either. “Like I said, I didn’t know. It worked out okay.”
“You can never be sure about this kind of thing,” Akiva said. “Every space you walk into, you’re doing a calculation of if people are going to be cool or assholes or whatever.”
“Eitan doesn’t seem like the calculation type.”
“He isn’t. He probably should be, but I’m glad he isn’t.”
