Talk about it?Tommy texts that night.
No,I reply.
He doesn’t press.
* * * *
From then on, I feel caught in a downdraft. I’m trying to swim against it but can’t gain traction because it’s just air. I walk miles in whatever city I land. I think how I’ll face Tommy.
He’s playing again when I get to New York. I’ve pulled myself back up to resemble normal, all because I get to see him.
When we’re finally in his apartment late after the first game, which we won, I fall into his arms. He knows not to ask “what?”
“Thanks,” I tell him after a few minutes.
“For what?”
“For not asking.”
I no longer want to go walking. I don’t even want sex, which, wise man that he is, Tommy ignores. He pulls me into bed, then pulls me further into a slow and sensual descent that, after some time, gets me into him. Suddenly I’m reborn. Energy ignites, and I slap his bottom so he knows it. Then I’m coming big time, after which I pull out and fall asleep.
* * * *