Dugout Discipline for Bad Decisions

Nati’s nails marked Carmela’s shoulder.

“Captain,” Nati said. “Don’t be careful now.”

Carmela laughed once. “You asked for slow.”

“I asked for slow first.”

“Bossy.”

“Please.”

Carmela gave her more. Nati arched under her, saying Carmela’s name again and again. Carmela kept one hand between Nati’s thighs and drove into her until Nati came around the strap with a sharp cry.

Carmela slowed but did not pull out.

“You okay?” she said.

“Yes,” Nati said. “Stay with me.”

“I’m here.”

When Nati finally asked her to stop, Carmela withdrew and unfastened the harness. She set it aside, then returned with water and a damp cloth.

Nati took the water. “You’re still mad.”

“I’m still mad you tried to protect me by shutting me out.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Don’t promise what you can’t prove yet.”

Nati gave a tired laugh. “Fair.”

Carmela picked up her phone from the nightstand and opened a new recording.

“Post-semifinal note,” she said. “Natividad Pangan got scared and tried to play safe. I told her I’m not asking for safe. I’m asking for honest.”

Nati watched her from the bed.

Carmela pressed save.

“Slugger now means the woman who swung for both of us.”

The championship gave Carmela one out, a runner at third, and a choice Rosita had not put on the card.

The score sat tied in the bottom of the seventh. Carmela stood on third after a clean triple. Nati waited at the plate with two strikes against her.

Rosita flashed for Nati to swing away.

Carmela caught Nati’s eye and tapped two fingers against her thigh.

Nati called time and walked toward third.

“That’s a squeeze,” Nati said.

“Yes.”

“If I miss, you’re out by ten feet.”

“Then don’t miss, Captain.”

Nati looked toward Rosita. Rosita lifted both hands. “Her call?”

Nati faced Carmela again. Five years of field calls sat behind them. Every order. Every argument. Every time Nati had chosen safety before asking what Carmela wanted.

“Your call, Slugger,” Nati said.

Carmela grinned. “About time.”

Nati returned to the box. The pitcher wound up. Carmela broke for home as Nati dropped the bat and sent the ball rolling hard along the first-base line.

It stayed fair.

Carmela crossed the plate before the catcher found it. The Queens poured out of the dugout, yelling loud enough to shake the fence.

Nati reached her last. Carmela grabbed the front of her uniform and kissed her once.

“Good bunt,” Carmela said.

“Good call,” Nati said.

Later, Nati stood in their kitchen while Carmela rinsed rice in a bowl. Their championship medals lay beside the stove. Nati set her phone on the counter.

“Final note,” she said. “You said you wanted to hear these.”

“I do.”

Nati pressed record.

“Post-championship note. Carmela Sison saw a play I did not. She called it, and I trusted her. Slugger is not a complaint. It is not a defense. It is the name I use for the woman who makes me braver than my plans.”

Carmela stopped rinsing the rice.

Nati continued. “I want to keep choosing her. Even when I’m scared. Especially then.”

She saved the recording.

Carmela dried her hands on a towel. “We’re still roommates. Still teammates. And now girlfriends.”

Nati smiled. “That sounds official.”

“It is official.” Carmela handed her the rice cooker bowl. “Wash this, Captain.”

Nati took it. “Yes, Slugger.”

Carmela bumped her hip against Nati’s.

Dinner still needed cooking. Practice still waited next week. Their future had no clean play card.

They chose it anyway.