Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 46

The twenty-four hours following Jordan coming home sick were a blur of sleeping, TV, listening to Jordan barf in the downstairs bathroom, the beep of the thermometer, and the letters dictating themselves in my head.

            When I opened my eyes, late morning on Wednesday, the footsteps creaking around the house were lighter and different from the sound of Coach Bentley's feet. I had already memorized his walking noises. Jordan was asleep on the long part of the couch, still in his school clothes from yesterday. I tapped the bottom of his foot and he lifted his head a few inches. "Huh?"

            "Someone's here," I whispered. "Not your dad."

            "There's a baseball bat in the closet by the front door." He rolled on his side, tugging his blanket up to his neck and closing his eyes again. "What's your temperature?"

            In the few hours he and I had been awake, we fought over the TV and finally came to an agreement that whoever had the highest fever got to pick the show. I was pretty sure he skipped a dose of Advil just to be able to watch Pawn Stars last night.       

            "One oh two point seven." I handed the thermometer over to him.

            He barely had the strength to reach down and take it from my hands, let alone hold it to his ear. "One oh four point three. I win."

            "Hey, you're awake."                                           

            I lifted my head again and saw Stacey standing near the door to the kitchen. My head fell back against the pillow. "Good news, Jordan, we won't need the baseball bat."

            He was already snoring softly, the stuffiness in his nose preventing him from breathing clearly.

            "How are you feeling?" Stacey asked.

            I tried to pull myself to a sitting position. This was Stacey, my coach, who wanted me to be tough and show no fear or weakness. No whining allowed in gymnastics. "I'm okay..."

            She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Coach Bentley had to go in and get some work done. I told him I'd look after you guys. Olivia's spending the day with Grandma."

            I was suddenly aware of the grunginess of my appearance—same pajamas for nearly two days, sweaty, matted-down, unwashed hair and un-brushed teeth. I attempted to slide sideways off the couch. "I really need to shower."

            "I'll help you," she said.

            "No, I'll be fine."

            Stacey rolled her eyes at me. "You're not fine, Karen. And if you fall down the stairs or hit your head on the bathtub, I'll be the one answering to Nina Jones and the National Team Committee. Not to mention Coach Bentley, who was more than reluctant to leave you guys today."

            I didn't argue anymore. Not if she was okay with me asking for help. Stacey led me upstairs, turned on the bathwater, and poured in some of my new body wash, causing it to fill with bubbles. I got undressed and slid in. It felt like heaven. Like floating on clouds. Never had I appreciated hot water more than today. She left the door to the bathroom open while she wandered into my room looking for clothes. Hopefully, Jordan wouldn't figure out a way to get off the couch and then come stumbling in here to pee.

            "Looks like you need some laundry done," Stacey said from my room.

            After she started a load of laundry, she brought me clean clothes—flannel pants, a baggy T-shirt, and my favorite fuzzy socks. I sat on the toilet seat brushing my teeth while Stacey combed the tangles out of my wet hair.

            "I bet you and Jordan will be the first ones in line for a flu shot next year," Stacey said, while twisting my hair into a knot on top of my head.

            "I'm ready right now." It was amazing how much being sick and unable to move made you appreciate simple things like a hot bath, fresh clothes, and clean teeth.

            Stacey picked up a giant green hair bow from my basket of toiletries lying next to the bathtub. I watched her hesitate, drawing in a deep breath as she stared at the green ribbon balled up in her hand. "I remember these," she whispered. "When you and Blair were level nine, even before Ellen came to the gym."

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