She frowns, but heads back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As much as I wish she’d let me stay, I get it. She’s sick and she blames me. I’ll just make sure she takes her meds and gets tucked into bed then I’ll leave her alone.
When she comes back out, she’s wearing dark blue pajama bottoms with clouds on them and a long sleeved t-shirt. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun and her face is scrubbed clean. She looks even more vulnerable with no makeup on. Mom says makeup is a woman’s shield. I thought it was weird, but I think she’s right.
“Come on, I’ve got your food set out on the nightstand. Whichever one you don’t want, I’ll take it downstairs to the fridge. You get in bed, take your medicine and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because you’ve been really nice to me and I’m kicking you out.”
“You’re sick, Daisy. You don’t need to entertain me. Coming to my game was more than enough and you shouldn’t have been there. You’re worse than when I saw you earlier. I’m not mad, just worried about you. Maybe I should take you to the ER or something.”
“No. If I don’t feel better by Monday, I’ll go to the student clinic and get some antibiotics or something.”
I pull her covers back and pat the bed. “In you go.”
She takes a hesitant step forward. “You can stay and eat if you’re not afraid of getting sick.”
Score. Hearing her say I can stay gives me a high like when I score a game winning goal. But she looks hesitant, unsure of her decision. As much as I want to take advantage of it, I can’t.
“You sure? You look like you need sleep. I can take this back to my place and gorge out.”
She crawls into bed and pulls the blankets up into her lap. “Yeah. Sit down and eat.”
Instead of doing that, I pick up the first Styrofoam container of soup and hand it to her along with a plastic spoon. “Eat before you take the meds. It should keep you from getting nauseas later. Do you have anything to drink out of up here?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m going to go downstairs and grab two cups.” I reach for the second container of soup and she shakes her head.
“Put it in the mini fridge. If it’s in the main fridge downstairs, it’s a free for all. I don’t put anything down there I expect to keep. Too many athletes who are constantly hungry.”
It only takes me a minute to run downstair, find two glasses, and then go back up. She has her head leaning against the headboard, her eyes closed.
“I’m sorry I asked you to come out.”
“Christa said it might get in your head if I wasn’t there. You’ve been really nice to me and I didn’t want to mess with your game.”
“I’m nice to you because I want to be nice to you. Never think I expect anything in return. If you want to sleep, then I’ll pack up my stuff and go.”
“That’s why I said you could stay because I believe you.”
“It feels like there’s a story there.”
“There is, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
I can respect that. I pour our drinks and then settle on the foot of her bed to eat my two bacon double cheeseburgers and chili cheese fries, careful not to get anything on her comforter.
“Your mom’s nice.”
“You’ve never seen her when she’s in mama bear mode. She’s gotten into more than one coach’s face or told off a parent who got a little too lippy. Woman is fierce.”
“I can see that.”
“What about your mom? She worried about you moving states all by yourself?”
“No, my mom doesn’t care about that.”
