Page 68 of The Future Play

Two full days? And she didn’t even mention it to me yesterday?

She has to learn she is not a burden, and she deserves to be taken care of.

Now I just need to get through an hour of training camp so I can show her.

Amanda’s houseis dark when I get there around five. It’s not that late, but it feels like it is when I walk inside.

“Amanda?” I call as I walk through the kitchen. Nothing.

I stop to grab some Gatorade, water, and crackers, then head upstairs. But when I get to her room, it’s empty. There’s a bucket by the side of her bed and half-empty bottles on her nightstand.

“Amanda?” I call again, something sinking in my gut.

When I turn around, I see the bathroom light streaming from under the partially closed door.

I cross the hallway and shove it open, my heart leaping into my throat when I see her lying on the floor.

I drop to my knees next to her and sweep some hair off her face. She looks up at me, tired and confused.

“Baby, how long have you been here?”

She tries to shrug, but can’t. Her lips are chapped and peeling, she’s sweaty, and her forehead is hot.

“Okay, we’re going to the hospital.”

Her face crinkles up, and she shakes as she cries. Or tries to. No tears come out.

I sit down on the floor, then carefully pull her toward me, easing her upright and resting her against me.

“What are…” She coughs and clears her throat. I reach for the bottle of water on the floor and hand it to her. She only takes a few sips before setting it down again. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts, then I found out you were sick. I came over to check on you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “I didn’t want you to worry. Or feel responsible. You should go so you don’t get sick too. Then your siblings?—”

“Don’t worry about all that. My parents are no strangers to dealing with horrific viruses in our house. That said, this seems like norovirus, and we had that in the spring. Usually the immunity lasts for a bit, but even if it doesn’t… I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. There is nowhere else I’d be right now. You need someone to take care of you, and I want to be that person. I’ll always take care of you. Always show up when you need me.”

She sniffs again and leans against my chest.

“When was the last time Pete was here?”

“This morning. He’s working late tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll text him and tell him not to come. We’re going to the hospital, then we’re going to come back here and binge watch movies until you fall asleep.”

“I don’t know if I can move,” she whimpers.

“I’ve got you. Just hold on to this”—I hand her the water bottle—“and tell me where your purse is.”

“Coat rack. Back door.”

I shift her in my arms, then slowly, carefully, get to my feet.

“Jamie—”

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