Look out for the <>!
The bed feels like a sweaty cocoon, trapping me in the blankets. I tossed and turned nearly all night. My stomach feels like a writhing snake, twisting around inside me. Any movement either causes me to shutter in pain or run to the bathroom.
I wipe the sheen of sweat from my face then without wasting a moment, run to the bathroom and lose what little I have left in my stomach. It surprises me that my stomach still has contents to purge.
"Nojo, are you alright in there?" Dad asks, knocking on the bathroom door as I flush the toilet.
I tap my phone to see the time. It is already morning which means he would leave soon. But I am in no condition to join. I am not ok. This must be food poisoning. Nothing but a poorly cooked meal from yesterday. I want to blame the cafeteria. That last burger was too good to be true.
I wipe my mouth before I dry heave. There is no way I can go to the match in Toledo when I can barely leave the bathroom without running back in. "I'm not doing so hot. I think you're going to have to go without me."
There is silence. It kills me. I hate to go back on my word. He's probably debating about opening the door to check on me.
"I just need 24 hours. I'll be fine," I reassure him.
"Ok, your mom is already out for the day but if you need anything, shoot us a text."
I flush the toilet. "Sounds good."
"Please keep me posted on how you're feeling throughout the day."
"I will," I say as I stand up from the floor and open the door to see Dad dressed and ready to go. If I felt good, I would be dressed like him. What shocks me is I feel more disappointed than I thought I would.
"Are you sure you'll be ok."
I clamp my mouth shut, fearing that if I open it, I will run to the toilet. It's not like he can stay here with me anyhow. I am adult, I can take care of myself. Sometimes my parents forget that since I still live with them.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry." I force a smile which feels more like a grimace. "Just tell all the guy's good luck for me."
He nods. "They'll miss you."
And I would miss them. I really do care about most of them. I would avoid Everett, but I am bummed about missing the away game. "Now, go, I'll be ok," I say to him as my stomach lurches again.
"Call if you need anything."
I should have shut my mouth. I run to the toilet, shutting the door behind me.
"Love you!" he says. Within minutes, the garage door opens and closes, telling me he's gone.
The cool porcelain of the toilet feels nice against my hot cheeks. For a moment, I just rest against it, hoping I will feel better soon.
Just when I decide to go to the game, this happens. I haven't felt this sick in years, but something tells me I will feel like this all day long.
I wonder who will miss me? Tad for sure. Tad... he should know from me before he finds out from Dad. I at least owe him a reason why I won't join this weekend.
"Please don't hate me." I text.
"What did you do?" -Tad
His almost instantaneous response causes a pit to form. He is disappointed in me. I hate that. I don't like disappointing people.
I gag over the toilet bowl. There isn't even anything left in my stomach. It is empty. So why can I not stop throwing up?
"Got food poisoning. Been sick all night long so I can't go to the game this weekend."
YOU ARE READING
The Fumble Of A Quarterback
RomanceNora Orban has an internship the head coach of the Ohio State University football. some people view him as God, but she knows him as Dad. And god's angels (the players) aren't saints. How can she fall in love with the players when she doesn't even...
