Chase found it impossible to be an adult in the face of adversity. He met me at the airport the morning that I left Charlotte for San Antonio, but I didn’t escape the city without enduring an ugly scene.

We hugged when we met, and Chase whispered in my ear that he loved me. I told him, “I love you, too. At least now we can be open about our relationship.”

He smiled and reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. He said, “I’m going to shout it from the top of the highest hill in Charlotte that I’m in love with Aaron Beck.”

“Well, not right away. Give me a few weeks to settle in at San Antonio.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Chase frowned first, and then he started to throw a tantrum. He accused me of not wanting to be out and open. I accused him of wanting to control my life and not listen to my needs. Then he said I completely ignored his needs. He believed that I wouldn’t go to San Antonio if he were first in my considerations. When Chase raised his voice to shout at me, I turned and left.

I headed for the line through airport security without a hug or a kiss. When I finally turned back to see what Chase was doing, he was gone. A shudder raced through my body. I’d never had such a physical response to a breakup before, and I wasn’t even sure if it was a breakup. It was a fight. It was the first one I’d had with Chase, and I was terrified. I wondered if it was all over in just a few short minutes.

By the time I arrived in San Antonio, with the help of two drinks and an hour’s worth of the Beatles on the plane, I was somewhat relaxed. Harv Reynolds, the San Antonio pitching coach, met me at the airport. He said, “We’ve heard incredible things about you. The scuttlebutt I’ve heard is good, too. They say the ego in Charlotte was too big to keep an assistant with real talent. I know Eckert, and that makes sense. I’m surprised he can wedge his head through the front office door.”

I smiled at Harv, and we both laughed. We got along well from the beginning. I said, “This is a good start. Maybe I’m going to like it here in San Antonio.”

“What’s not to like?” asked Harv. “We’ve got warm weather year round, a beautiful river downtown, and the Mexican food is out of this world. You do like Mexican food, don’t you?”

I grinned and asked, “What about the baseball team? I heard there was one of those, too. Are they worth watching? Have they shaken off the expansion team blues?”

Harv said, “Not so bad, and I heard a new guy is going to make them even better. We’re going to be the envy of the league when he gets done.”

In my first batting practice session with the RoadRunners, it was blatantly obvious that they needed some help. Nearly every player appeared to be failing to live up to his potential at bat. I couldn’t figure out what the previous batting coach was doing with his time. He didn’t make much progress with the players.

They were receptive to my suggestions, and I saw some progress within the first two games. Unfortunately, I felt like I would soon hit a brick wall. My assistant batting coach in San Antonio was as inexperienced as me.

I thought back to my time in Charlotte, and I realized I’d gotten used to Chase helping mentor the players. We worked out a system so that he didn’t anger his teammates. He observed while waiting for his turn, and we watched film together. I took notes from his comments, and then I relayed them to the players the following day.

Fortunately, my San Antonio field manager was pleased with what he saw. Our team hit three home runs in the third game I coached. After the victory, I went out for a drink with Harv, and he congratulated me. He said, “It’s nice to finally have a guy on the batting end who knows what he’s doing. We can only do so much with the pitching. The team has to hit, too.”

I asked Harv about his life in San Antonio. He seemed happy enough, but he was single, and his life sounded rather mundane. He mentioned a lot of things that he could be doing in San Antonio, but he didn’t go out and do any of them. Harv sighed and said, “Baseball doesn’t leave time for much else. I do my job, and I go home to relax. Isn’t that how it works for you?”

It wasn’t how it worked for me in Charlotte. I went out frequently with Chase, Eric, and Javier. Chase and I enjoyed private meals, walked through parks, and occasionally went out to see a movie. We considered taking a cooking class together, but we were worried that we would be seen as celebrities and cause a disturbance for the instructors.

I asked, “What happens in the off-season? Do you live somewhere else, or do you stay in San Antonio?”

Harv said, “Oh, I have a little place on the beach near Corpus Christi. I go there and stare at the water for the summer. It’s a little hot, but I like to swim, so I deal with the heat by getting in the water.”

By the time the evening was over, I had found myself stretching and yawning and making excuses to go home. If I wanted a rewarding social life, it wasn’t going to be with Harv. I wasn’t quite sure where else I should look. I hung out with my other coaches in Chattanooga. We cooked out together and went for hikes in the nearby mountains. For the first time since I started coaching, I felt lonely. I wondered what Chase was doing.

I remembered a comment that my mom made when I complained about being bored as a teenager. It made no sense to me then when I was in high school, but now I was older with a different outlook on life. She said, “If you’re ever bored at home, take out a different pair of glasses. Look at home like you’re a stranger. Look at it like you’re a tourist seeing it all for the first time.”

On the next day off, I decided to visit the Alamo, tour the missions, and in the evening I booked a ride on a boat along San Antonio’s famous Riverwalk. It was a perfect summer day. It was hot, but the humidity was low. I dressed in walking shorts, a short-sleeved button-up shirt and joined the tourist crowds. My mom was right. The boredom eased, and I gained a new appreciation for my latest home city.

As I settled myself into a boat along the Riverwalk, a boy who looked to be about thirteen said, “You look familiar. I’ve seen you on TV before. Are you on a show?”

I shook my head, smiled, and said, ‘You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

He had the body of a young athlete. He had some muscle in his biceps, and he moved gracefully for someone so young. He said, “No, I’m sure I’ve seen you on TV.”

The boy’s father elbowed him and tugged on his arm. I saw him whisper something and the boy responded saying, “But, Dad…”

They sat on the opposite end of the boat. During the ride, I thought about Chase again. I’d heard nothing from him since I left Charlotte. I didn’t send him any messages either. I read the baseball box scores, and, after two more bad games, he started to return to a high-performance groove.

I knew that I couldn’t be enemies with Chase. When I watched for results of games, I hoped that he did well. I cheered to myself when I read that both Chase and Mo were selected for the All-Star game. They deserved all of the accolades that came their way.

While the boat glided through the water along the Riverwalk, I felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out of my pocket. My hand was trembling. I knew that my subconscious mind hoped it was Chase calling. It wasn’t him, but it was about him. Eric sent me a text message. I read it three times over and then wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. His message read:

I leaned back in my seat on the boat and observed my fellow passengers. They were all laughing and chatting except for the boy that confronted me. He was still glancing at me periodically with a frown on his face.

I typed a response into my phone. It read:

When the ride came to an end, and we climbed out of the boat, I stepped up to the boy again. I asked, “Do you like baseball?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do. I’m a catcher.”

I said, “I coach for the RoadRunners. I’m the new batting coach.”

The boy smiled from ear to ear. “See, Dad! I was right. I knew I saw him on TV. They talked about you during the game last night. They showed a picture on the screen.”

When I finally returned home for the night, I punched Chase’s number into my phone. He answered on the second ring and shouted, “Yes!” into the phone.

“Yes? Yes, what? And hi, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Weren’t you going to ask if I wanted to get back together?”

I said, “Actually, I was going to ask if you’d seen my boyfriend anywhere. I miss him.”