Softball practice was hell. To begin with, Blake didn’t ride with me for the first time. He was off doing something else in the city and informed me that he was driving to practice on his own. Reggie rode with me as usual and asked, “So where is your man?”

I wasn’t ready to tell anyone else what was going on. After a miserable day worrying about the future, I decide to hang on to the idea that it might all just blow over. I said, “He had some other errands to run, so it didn’t make sense for him to drive clear back home and then ride with me. He will meet us there.”

Relations with Blake at practice were frosty to say the least. I saw Reggie’s brow wrinkle as he tossed a ball back and forth with me while Blake was having an animated conversation with Billy. They high-fived, Blake swatted him on the ass, and then they headed for the outfield to toss their own ball back and forth.

I split the team into two groups for a short practice game. Blake made the game into a showcase for his own talents. He threw guys out at first by charging slow rollers and then knocked a ball over the fence on a single bounce. He finished up the second inning of our practice game by diving for a ball with his body fully stretched out and coming up with the catch. The entire team applauded his acrobatics.

I tried to walk up to him and offer congratulations as our squads switched places, but he deliberately walked around me and instead accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from Marshall.

Reggie cornered me in the dugout. He did his best to be out of earshot of the rest of the team and then whispered in my ear, “What the fuck is going on?”

I played stupid for just a moment and asked, “What do you mean?”

He raised a hand, and I thought he was actually going to slap me. Instead he clenched his teeth and hissed, “I’m not an idiot.”

I shrugged and tried out another approach whispering, “We had an argument, okay? All couples have arguments. We’ll get it sorted out.”

He raised an eyebrow and then said, “This isn’t the place to talk about it, but after practice, you’re going to tell me more. I don’t let assholes fuck with my friends.”

---

I struggled through the rest of practice. My game was off. I threw pitches in the dirt three feet in front of home plate. I walked directly up to Blake at third base and asked if he was okay.

He mumbled, “It’s fine,” and then he tossed a ball to Antonio at second base. I didn’t believe him, but at least I got to hear his voice.

When practice wrapped up, Reggie said, “I don’t care what you think you’re doing, Ian, but you’re going downtown to the Toolbox with me. Blake isn’t working tonight, is he?”

I mumbled, “No, he’s not. This is a night off.” Then I said, “But what if he shows up at my house?”

“Do you have your phone with you?” asked Reggie.

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

He said, “Well then, if he wants to hear from or see you, he can give you a call or send you a text. It’s not like I’m taking you off the edge of the earth.”

I said, “Okay, okay, don’t get pissed at me. I’m not very happy, and it’s a little bit hard feeling this way.” I grabbed Reggie’s elbow. When he turned around, I looked into his eyes and said, “This really sucks, you know?”

“I understand. That’s why you need to take your mind off it. Maybe a couple of gin and tonics along with the cute boys downtown will help. I’m just doing what friends do.”

The Toolbox was fairly crowded, and Claw was working the bar. I found a small table in the back while Reggie headed to the bar to order drinks. I was busy fumbling with my phone to make sure I didn’t miss anything from Blake, when a stranger walked up to the table.

He was taller than Blake, but he was blonde with pale skin and deep, blue eyes. I would have guessed that he was a transplant from Minnesota. He spoke immediately and asked, “Did anyone ever tell you that you have the most handsome smile in the room?”

I worked hard to not roll my eyes at the pickup line, and I played along instead. I did my best to force a slight blush and said, “No, but that’s very sweet of you.”

“Mind if I sit?” asked the stranger.

I gestured at the stool on the opposite side of the table and said, “Knock yourself out. I have to tell you, though, that I’m not here alone.”

One eyebrow raised, and he asked, “Boyfriend?”

I shook my head, “No, just a good friend.”

Then he leaned on the table, and said, “Seriously, I could have a really happy night just thinking of all the things I could say that would make you smile. Your smile lights up the entire world.”

He wasn’t succeeding in pushing Blake out of my head, but at least there seemed to be some sincerity around the edges of the over-the-top compliments. I said, “So tell me something about you. First name?”

He said, “You’re gonna laugh, because my name is actually Sven,” and then he pointed to his hair.

I laughed softly and then stopped myself. I said, “This might sound very rude, but are you looking for a hook-up? Because if you are, you’ve found the wrong table. Otherwise, sure, Sven, you’re welcome to drink and talk.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You sound like me.” He said, “I walked up to you and I could see the sad in your eyes behind such a killer smile from clear across the room. I was just hoping I might be able to reduce the sad a little bit.”

Reggie arrived with the drinks and asked, “Who’s this?” I could see a sparkle of interest in his eyes. Sven was handsome, and Reggie was much more open to pickup lines than me.

He said, “I’m Sven.”

Reggie smirked and said, “Good try.” Then Sven’s gazed remained firm, and Reggie asked. “Really? That’s your name? You look like you walked out of a Norwegian Men Of the Month calendar.” Then he mumbled, “And I’m a dork, too,” before he took a sip of his old fashioned.

Sven said, “Seriously, guys, I just broke up with a boyfriend, and I was just looking for good guys to hang out with. I don’t want to take anyone home, but I sure could use the company.”

He joined us for the rest of the evening. As we suspected, Sven was originally from Minnesota, and his family was of Norwegian descent. He was a recent transplant to Milwaukee with a career in banking. He brought a boyfriend of three years with him, and the relationship hit the skids almost at the point they landed in the new city.

“It’s irreparable?” I asked.

Sven nodded and said, “I think so. Mind if I ask if you two are single?”

Reggie pointed at me and said, “This one here is moping around about his boyfriend, but I’m available.” Reggie rolled out such an animated string of winks and nods that both Sven and I laughed out loud.

Then Sven said to me, “So that explains the sadness in your eyes.”

I told him the whole depressing story in condensed form. I could see Reggie’s eyes narrow as he heard the complete story for the first time, too. He growled, “Blake is being a fucking asshole, Ian.”

Sven said, “I’m not saying he’s totally right, but maybe there’s some value of looking at it from your boyfriend’s point of view?”

I could see Reggie’s attraction to Sven wane, but I was happy to hear the different point of view. It didn’t change my mind that much, but it helped me return to a more human view of Blake.

Reggie growled into his glass, “I still think he’s a total asshole.”

Sven patted a big hand on Reggie’s back and said, “Maybe so, maybe so, but it really sucks totally breaking up. Sometimes swallowing pride can be the first step to bigger and better things to come.”