Page 49 of What We Knew Then
This is new. Typically, Freddy would be waiting for me after the first home game of the season. Who knows what he’s doing. I literally don’t care.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I see text messages from Brinn.
Brinn
please come out
we’re going to shore thing
pretty please
“Got it, Dad,” I say, and he turns and leaves the office as I text Brinn back.
Me
Finishing here
let you know when I’m leaving.
I sit for a few more minutes, looking over the stat sheet a final time. It’s not that I think there are any errors in the math or what I’ve created, but I’m trying to see if there’s more to the story for the win tonight. Something we can copy or lean on in the next game.
When I start getting too excited again, thinking how this could “be our year,” I stand and take a few steps. My head kind of swims, the room tilting, and it catches me off guard. I press my eyes shut and count to ten, taking in a breath and slowly letting it out. My eyes open but there’s something distracting. A squiggle line. I try to blink through it, look around the room, but I can’t shake it.
Shit. I’m getting a migraine.
The wave of nausea hits me like a freight train. My meds are in my bag, but that’s in the arena on the team bench.Brilliant work, Cora. I sit back in the chair and grab the trash can, knowing what’s going to happen next.
I try to breathe through the waves of nausea, but they’re choppy like the waves on the lake when the winds are high.
The squiggle line in my vision has multiplied and I’m losing my peripheral vision. My head feels like someone is hitting me with a brick and I rest my forehead on my hands. I wish I were at home with all the things I keep on hand to get through a migraine—ice cap, caffeinated drinks, my meds, and peppermint oil.
Now the only thing I can do is try not to throw up on my dad’s office floor and wait the twenty to thirty minutes for this to pass. The room feels like it’s tilting and wavy underneath me, like a fun house, and I do everything I can to level myself with this trash can and this chair.
I count my breaths. Convince myself I’m not going to throw up. Typically, that only happens when the pain gets too bad. As long as I keep my eyes closed during the beginning, the aura phase, I shouldn’t need to rinse out this trash can.
I wish I could turn the light off but I’m not willing to risk standing up. That isn’t a good idea. I swear I hear someone walk past my dad’s office and I hope they don’t look in here.
Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky as I hear someone call for Coach—they must think my dad is still here.
Lane’s voice cuts through the delicate silence I’m desperate for.
“What are you doing?”
Chapter 31
LANE
Iwantedtotalkwith Coach before he left. Even though we won, and I feel like I had a decent showing, I knew I’d be anxious unless I got his honest, real-time opinion on my play. Especially after he basically had an intervention with me this week and got me back on track.
Instead of finding Coach Banks, Cora is sitting in his chair with her head in a trashcan. I asked what she was doing but she didn’t respond or move. Her body moves with her breaths so I know she’s alive.
“Were you drunk on the bench tonight? Because that would be fucking stupid…”
Before the words are out of my mouth, she lifts her head. Her eyes are squinted and she’s peering at me through only one of them.
“I—” She tries to talk but breathes through whatever must be happening before she finishes her sentence. “I have a migraine. I need to wait it out. I’ll be fine.” She tries to wave me off and almost falls out of the chair.
“Woah, watch it.” Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m dropping my hockey bag on the office floor and kneeling next to her. Last thing I need is for her to fall and crack her head open.
