It was 9:30 PM. The Red Sox had won their game tonight against the Yankees. Unfortunately Jarren did not have such a good game. I texted him "you did your best. I'm proud of you. Drive safe. I'll be waiting up for you. ā¤"
His performance hasn't been great lately, but he still does the best he can. The problem is that Jarren is so hard on himself. He always thinks he's disappointing people. Worst of all, he thinks he's disappointing ME.
It's about 10:30 PM and I'm laying in bed watching YouTube, when the front door to our apartment opens. I hear keys hit the kitchen island and before I know it, Jarren is walking into our bedroom. He looks distraught...upset...anxious...
"Hey baby." I say with a smile. He just looks at me. He ambles over to his side of the bed, takes off his shirt, throws it on the floor, and lays down beside me. I flip over so that we are face to face. I rub my hand up and down his arm, then say "Jar, talk to me. I can tell you're not okay." He looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes and I melt like I always do.
"I played like shit. I always play like shit," he says. Tears begin forming in his eyes. Immediately I put my hands on each side of his face.
I softly say "baby, you don't always play like shit. May was such a great month for you. You're just in a slump right now. You'll come out of it like you always do." I run my fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. Something I've always done that helps calm him down.
"I'm letting everyone down", he says. "I'm the worst player on the fucking team. I can't do anything right."
"Jarren, that's not true. You're not letting everyone down and you're not the worst player on the team. You have no idea how talented you are. You are just having a difficult time right now. It happens", I say looking at him straight in the eyes. "You certainly never let me down."
He just looks at me. I don't know if he thinks I'm lying or if he's trying to figure out how to respond.
"I am always proud of you. Literally always." I grab his tattooed hand and start rubbing his knuckles. "You go out on that field every single day and do the best you can. You play the game with more passion and emotion than I've ever seen. Jar, you are so much more than your batting average." I begin tearing up thinking about everything that he has overcome and how proud I am of him. "It's gonna take a whole hell of a lot more than some strikeouts to make me disappointed in you."
I gently kiss his "fuck 'em" tattoo and then kiss his lips. "I love you. Don't you EVER forget that."
"I love you, baby. Thank you", he says, kissing me back.
I climb on top of him, straddling his waist, running my hands down his chest.
"I think you should show me how much you love me", I say with a smirk. Jarren grabs onto my hips like he's clinging on for dear life.
"As soon as those clothes come off, you'll find out exactly how much I love you", he says.
And trust me. He loves me realllllll good.
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