Page 114 of Between the Blue
One of my science teachers explained once how humans could actually survive perfectly fine with no sun. As long as they figured out an alternative food source and had drinking water, they could carry on.
But, the thing is, with no sun, a human’s internal clock gets disrupted. They don’t know when it’s day or when it’s night. When they should sleep or when they should rise. All the days start to run together after some time.
Serotonin levels eventually drop. Depression begins. And the cycle continues.
So, in conclusion, humans can survive without the sun. But they won’t really live.
I thought I understood it then.
But I’m living it now.
And it’s all true.
How am I supposed to live without my sun?
I find myself waiting every day for summer. For my sunshine. For it to return to me.
For her.
So I’ll play.
One practice at a time. One period at a time. One game at a time.
And look forward to that day.
thirty-two
HER
I’ve looked forward to this day all week.
But I’ve also dreaded it.
The part that I’ve looked forward to– so much so that I’ve had trouble focusing in class and sleeping at night because of the nervous anticipation– went over like a dream.
The shoot with COBO was everything I could have imagined and more. It was an absolute out-of-body experience getting to see and be a part of one of the same photo shoots I’ve ogled at for hundreds of hours throughout my life. Getting to see the behind the scenes of how the fashion, models, and photography all come together was overwhelming, but so exhilarating.
I spent most of the morning shadowing the photographers on set and assisting with anything they needed. But, after getting the hang of things for a couple of hours, they actually let me step in and take a few frames. My hands may have been shaking the entire time, but I didn’t let any of them know it. Especially not Natasha. She’s a woman of few words, so I made sure not to waste the ones she was willing to share with me.
Overall, it was a complete success. I never wanted to leave.
Which is part of the reason why I’m on the verge of running late now.
To the part of this day that I’ve been dreading. So much so that I’ve even gone as far as praying for a rainstorm or some other natural disaster serious enough to cancel every flight leaving from Austin. Or maybe one big enough to flood a hockey arena in Miami.
Today is the first away game I’m attending with the team.
Our flight is set to leave for Miami at 2 p.m. The team will head straight to practice once we land and then have the remainder of the evening to rest. Then, after they play a matinee game tomorrow afternoon and finish with some press, we will hop on the plane to head home.
Everything in one short weekend, with just enough time to get me back home and ready for class Monday morning.
Lucky me.
I look down at my watch, seeing that it’s 1:46 p.m. just as my taxi pulls up to the tarmac. I still have about fifteen minutes until the team’s plane is set to take off, but cutting it this close doesn’t do anything to help the sick feeling in my gut.
As the taxi comes to a stop, I’m able to make out a few dozen Texas Storm staff members in branded business attire and about twenty guys in suits. I take a deep breath, thanking my driver and stepping out of the car.
It’s fine, Addie. You’re stuck in buildings with him all the time. It’s not any different to be stuck on a plane with him.
