Bases Loaded

by Sean Michael

  Jean’s laugh filled the air. “We’ll stop at the farmer’s market first, eh? Get some fresh fruits and veggies.”

  “Oh yum. I don’t think we’ve ever had so much fruit as we’ve had since coming here, but it’s all been really good.”

  It was great having home-cooked meals that were actually tasty.

  “You should learn to make smoothies. He likes those, and you can add a ton of vegetables.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful—he does seem to really like those. It’s funny because I always thought smoothies had to have yogurt in them.”

  Jean had already taught Benj a lot in the kitchen, simply by letting him watch and help out.

  “I find that those slow people down, but one a day with the dairy would probably be okay.”

  “I never thought of food as an important aspect of how you felt before. I mean, I know Brett needs lots of carbs when he’s playing and stuff, but it’s way more than that, isn’t it?”

  “It’s fuel, cher. Just like when you put good gas in your car, it runs better.” Jean started lecturing about minerals and vitamins and proteins.

  Benj tried to pay attention and remember, but he hoped he could get Jean to write it down for him.

  When they pulled into the farmer’s market, it all went away, because pumpkins! Pumpkins and flowers and beautiful apples and squashes….

  Laughing and chattering, he went from stall to stall, grabbing this and that. They had to get a wheelbarrow to hold everything. Jean bought all sorts of vegetables and fruit—cabbages and corn, greens and apples—all the while talking to everyone.

  Benj had an amazing time, choosing his own things and following Jean, taking it all in.

  “Do you like green or red apples, cher?”

  “Oh, how about both? They look so pretty next to each other.”

  “Absolutely. I like the green ones for eating and the red ones for cooking.”

  “Cool. It smells so good here.”

  “It does. Did you want to stop at the market restaurant for lunch?” Jean’s eyes twinkled. “They use things from the market.”

  Benj laughed and nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  The food in the restaurant was sort of incredible—yam and black bean burritos, spaghetti squash with marinara, a curried pumpkin soup that made him want to moan.

  “This is an amazing place. I have the best food adventures, thanks to you.”

  Jean looked at him, beamed. “Why, cher… thank you.”

  Benj smiled back happily. “You’re welcome. Now, what do you suggest for dessert?”

  “Apple tart. It’s to die for.”

  “I definitely want to taste something you say is to die for.”

  Jean patted his hand. “The pastry is something special.”

  He turned his hand over and squeezed Jean’s. “I can’t wait.”

  “So after this, craft store?”

  “Oh yes, that would be great. Do you and Ralph usually do things up for Halloween?”

  Jean shrugged. “We eat and watch movies, but there aren’t usually people around at this time of year. We haven’t ever had holiday patients.”

  “Really? Are Brett and I going to put a crimp in your style?” He didn’t want to upset Jean and Ralph’s holiday, but this was their last hope.

  “I don’t think so. I’m actually looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “Oh good.” He smiled at Jean. “Me too.”

  His phone rang. Brett.

  Benj gave Jean a smile of apology and answered it. “Hey, love.”

  “Hey, baby. I’m going to be a bit longer than we thought. If you want, you can go back to the house, and I’ll call when I’m done.”

  His heart missed a beat. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’ll call you when I’m done, baby.”

  Benj bit his lower lip, wanting to press. “You promise?”

  “You have my word, Benjamin.”

  “I love you,” he whispered, Brett’s use of his full name suddenly scaring him.

  “Love you. Buy me a present. Something cool.” The phone line went dead.

  Benj swallowed and looked at the phone. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, except it wasn’t like Brett. He chewed on his lower lip.

  “What’s wrong? What did they say about his headaches?”

  Benj shook his head. “He needs more tests. He’s going to call when he’s ready to be picked up.” He folded his hands together over and over, letting out the nervous energy. “He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine, huh? They just need to make sure.” Jean didn’t sound so certain.

  “I don’t know, Jean. He wouldn’t tell me what the other tests were, and he didn’t say it was nothing. But he promised to tell me when we go to get him.”

  That didn’t exactly stop him from fretting, though.

  “It’ll be fine, huh? Let’s go shop.”

  Benj nodded. They hadn’t had the wicked dessert, but he didn’t think he could eat now anyway.

  Jean kissed his temple. “We’ll get a tart to go.”

  “Oh, what a good idea—then Brett and Ralph can have some too.” He reached out and squeezed Jean’s hand again. “Thank you.”

  “It will be all right, cher. You ain’t alone in nothing.”

  “You’ve been such a godsend, Jean. It’s so much less stressful to have someone there for you.”

  Jean ordered the whole tart, then paid. “It’s good for us too, to make friends.”

  “I know you’ve got lots of people the rest of the year, but don’t you ever get lonely in the winter?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly I just get grumpy. Ralph is a gator when he’s bored.”

  Benj giggled. He loved the way Jean spoke. “You mean he gets snappish?”

  “You know it, cher.” Jean rolled his eyes and made alligator snapping motions.

  Benj laughed, and he slipped his hand into the crook of Jean’s arm, following along and letting Jean distract him.

  His Brett would be okay.

  He had to be.

  Had to.

  BRETT WAITED out in front of the hospital, very, very carefully not thinking.

  He had a clear rider in his contract to share his medical details with the league, the team, Ralph, so the doctors would contact them.

  He would just not worry about it right now.

  Dammit.

  He needed a bottle of whiskey and a punching bag.

  Jean’s car stopped a bit down from where he was standing, and before he could even move, Benj was out of the car and flying toward him.

  He held his arms open, not thinking. Not thinking at all.

  Benj didn’t stop until he’d attached himself like a leech, holding on tight to Brett. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

  “I got you.” Brett squeezed Benj tight. “You have a good day?”

  “My day was fine.” Benj pulled back enough to look into his face. “How are you?”

  “It’s been a long day.” He wouldn’t lie, but he didn’t want to go into it right now.

  Worry flared in Benj’s eyes, but he took a deep breath. “Let’s get home, then. Jean has the most wonderful supper planned.”

  Benj took Brett’s hand, clung to it hard.

  “Sounds good, baby.”

  He got into the car, and Jean was on the phone, talking fast. “…yeah, yeah. I got him. We’re heading home. Yeah. I t’ink so too, chou.”

  Benj climbed into the back with Brett, sitting close. He could feel the questions right there in the stiffness of Benj’s limbs, but Benj was good to him and didn’t ask.

  Brett threw one arm over Benj’s shoulders, pulled him close. “Tell me about your shopping.”

  “We got so much stuff. The trunk is full to bursting. We went to the market first and got pumpkins and fresh fruit and vegetables. And Jean knew everyone. And then he took me out to lunch at this fabulous little place that uses stuff from the market, and we got the apple tart to bring
home so you and Ralph could have some too.”

  Brett nodded, leaned in, let Benj’s voice pour over him.

  Benj told him about the craft store and the costume store, about what it was like shopping in the grocery store and how Jean was going to teach Benj how to cook all sorts of food, and which foods would give him the most energy and what to stay away from.

  Talking seemed to relax Benj; he settled more firmly against Brett and stopped fidgeting.

  Brett thought about breathing, in and out, in and out. Over and over. It didn’t seem any time at all before they pulled up at Jean and Ralph’s place. Benj began to tighten up again.

  “Come to the room.” He didn’t wait to help unload. None of it. They needed this done.

  Benj opened and closed his mouth and then nodded and took his hand, following along.

  They didn’t stop; Brett took Benj into the room and locked the door behind him before sitting them down.

  Benj only waited long enough for him to be settled before straddling his legs and taking his hands. “Tell me.” Worried, scared eyes stared into his own.

  “It’s a brain tumor. My headaches. That’s why I’m having them.”

  There.

  He’d said it out loud.

  A tumor.

  In his brain.

  Benj went pale as a ghost. “But you’ve had your headaches forever.”

  “They say it’s been there for a long time.”

  “Brett….” Benj began to breathe rapidly, like he couldn’t get enough air.

  “Stop it. I mean it, baby. You have to keep your shit together.” He couldn’t be strong for both of them, not right now.

  Not without some booze.

  Benj took another gasping breath and then wrapped both arms around him and pressed close, held on tight. “Is it… is it… you know?”

  “No. No, baby. The doctor says there’s nothing about it that looks like cancer. Not anything. They’ll know for sure after the surgery, but the specialist said no.” Said the tumor was slow-growing, smooth or something. That it wasn’t something life-threatening.

  Career-ending, maybe. Life-threatening, no.

  “Oh. Okay. Okay. So… what? What are they going to do? I mean, they can’t leave it inside your head, right?”

  “Surgery. Monday. They’re going to go in, take it out. I’ll be in the hospital for about five days.”

  Benj went entirely stiff and then slowly relaxed. “I’m trying, Brett. I really am. But they’re going to cut your head open, and I’m scared.”

  “Yeah, baby. Me too. We need to talk some, about what happens if… well, if the worst happens, but we don’t need to do it today.”

  Benj suddenly pressed their lips together, kissing him for all he was worth.

  Brett opened up, let Benj in, even though his mind was a million miles away, worrying about the team, about the mass in his head, about someone cutting into him.

  When Benj was done, he pressed their foreheads together and stared into Brett’s eyes. “You’re going to be okay, love. You have to be.”

  “Then I will be.” He looked back. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  Benj cupped his face in both hands. “This isn’t your fault, love. You didn’t ask to have a tumor. I’m just glad they found it when it’s still okay to operate. I don’t know what I’d do without you, love. I don’t.” Benj stopped talking, bit his lip hard.

  “Shh. You know… I have things set up. In case. You’d be taken care of, baby. Set for life.” He wouldn’t leave Benj without a safety net.

  “I don’t want that!” Benj dropped his hands to Brett’s shoulders and dug in. “I don’t want things you’ve set up. I want you.”

  “Then you’ll have to be strong, Benj. You’ll have to make sure they do this shit right while I can’t.”

  Benj nodded. That seemed to be what Benj had needed to buck up. “We have that paperwork, giving me power of… saying I can make decisions for you. Is the doctor at this hospital good, or should we go somewhere else?”

  “He seemed okay. If the team runs to form, though, they’ll be sending Doc Richards out soon. He’ll make sure the technical shit’s done. You know this might be it, huh? They might not let me out on the field again.”

  “You get through this operation in one piece, and then we’ll worry about fighting for your spot on the team, love.”

  “Do you want to go home or stay here?” He wasn’t sure he cared, one way or the other.

  Benj chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “If we stayed here, there’d be someone to distract me while you’re having the operation and in the hospital. It might make it easier to stay strong.”

  “Okay, baby. I bet Ralph can do my rehab, with the head and the shoulder.” If the guys still wanted them there.

  “Good.” Benj laid his head down on Brett’s good shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, love. You’ll see. Everything is going to work out just fine.”

  “I know, baby.” He said the words, but he didn’t believe it.

  Not at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  RALPH SAT at his desk with about a million forms in front of him, Brett sitting across from him.

  Brett and Benj had come home yesterday and hidden out in their room for the rest of the day. He didn’t blame them a bit.

  “So. I’m going to go over all the forms and shit with you. And I hope you’ll come back here after for your rehab. Jean and I, we’re signed up for the long haul with you and Benj.”

  “That’s what Benj wants.” Brett looked like a block of stone sitting there.

  “Is it what you want too?” Ralph was sure Brett and Benj staying here would be for the best—nowhere else could Brett get personal care like he would here.

  “I don’t know what I want, man.”

  “You want the best people working to make you better. That’s the doctors you have at the hospital, and that’s us here. I’m serious, man. We’ll be dedicated to getting you back on your feet and continuing the rehab on your arm. And we’ll be here to support you and Benj through the whole thing.”

  “Okay.” Brett stood, started pacing from door to window and back again.

  “Do you have any questions about the surgery?”

  “What’s going to happen after?”

  “You mean right after, or once you get back here?”

  “Yes. They said I would probably have trouble reading at first, maybe balance problems, some emotional shit.”

  Ralph thought Brett was really asking whether he and Jean could handle that.

  “That’s right,” Ralph answered. “They’re going to be poking in your brain, man. Sometimes it takes a while for things to settle back down. Like I said, Jean and I are here to support you and Benj. We’ve got access to a body doc and a head doc. And we understand what’s going on.”

  “Okay.” Brett stood at the window. “What else?”

  “Do you want me to go over the worst-case scenarios with you?”

  “Yeah. Shoot.”

  He didn’t sugarcoat it; he knew Brett wouldn’t appreciate that. “Absolute worst case is you die on the table. Second worst is permanent brain damage or a stroke. Your odds are very good, though, that you’re going to pull through this without either of those happening.”

  “If I have a stroke, I don’t want them to save me. Is there a paper for that?”

  Ralph sighed. “It’s called a DNR—do not resuscitate. But Brett, are you sure? A lot of people come back from strokes.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t want Benj to know. Just let me sign it.”

  “You don’t want to discuss it with him? How do you think he’s going to feel if you wind up needing heroic measures and have already refused them?” Ralph could understand why a man like Brett would want to sign a DNR, but to not discuss it with his partner felt all kinds of wrong.

  “He’s going to be devastated. He’s going to be devastated no matter what.”

  “I think you should trust him with this. Explain it to him. Ex
plain how this is a worst-case scenario. There’s every chance things are going to work out well.”

  “Fine.” Brett’s eyes flashed with a sort of deadly cold fury, and he pulled out his phone. He dialed, waited. “Benj. I’m signing a DNR in case I blow a vein during surgery so you don’t have to take care of a fucking vegetable. That cool with you?” Brett hit the button to end the call and tossed his phone down.

  “You son of a bitch. You know fucking well I didn’t mean you should do it like that.”

  Brett looked over at him. “It’s Thursday. I have surgery Monday. I don’t have a shitload of time to pussyfoot around. Not only that, my relationship is none of your fucking business. Benj knows me.”

  “You could have broken it a little more gently,” Ralph growled, feeling protective of Brett’s sweet, gentle lover.

  He pulled out his own phone and called Jean. “Babe? I think you should go check on Benj.”

  “He’s on his way to y’all, chou.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Ralph hung up and raised an eyebrow at Brett. “He’s on his way.”

  “I know. He told me.” Brett stared him down.

  He stared back. “You want to talk to him in private?”

  “No. I’ve done that. He’s not a child. My Benjamin is a strong son of a bitch. He’ll have my back.”

  Benj came in as Brett spoke. “Of course I have your back, love.” Benj went and stood next to Brett, hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be a vegetable.”

  “I don’t want you having to take care of me if I am.” Brett was looking at Benj like… like Benj was his equal, like Brett believed Benj could handle this and be strong for both of them.

  “Don’t I get a choice?”

  “I don’t want to live like that.”

  Benj closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, it’s not cool with me. None of this is. I guess I don’t get to choose, though.”

  “Well, I could not have the surgery. That’s an option.”

  “No.” Benj shook his head, hand going to Brett’s chest. “You need that thing out of you. You know I’ll do anything I must to help you through it.”