Page 144 of Wild Pitch
HOPE
My health really takes a nosedive in the thirty-some hours after the incident. There was little sleep last night—for my roomies, for Cade and for me. I hate that instead of getting proper rest after finishing Spring Training, Cade spent so many hours on FaceTime with us while we plotted how to solve this. Unfortunately he was a key component and the only reason why a panel was assembled to discuss the matter just a day later. Otherwise I could’ve been suspended for a month or more, who knows.
It was near two in the morning when the plan was finished, all related parties were asked for help, and everyone departed for bed. Except I couldn’t sleep at all.
I kept tossing and turning, uncomfortable in my soft bed that normally sucks me into its embrace without trouble. Which I guess is what happens when you’re too pissed off to relax into sleep.
As the morning rolls in, the sun rays feel extra offensive on my dry eyes. I lay face up on my hot bed and kick the sheets away from me. There’s some noise outside the door, which means the girls must be getting ready for work. I shouldn’t be surprised that they immediately jumped on the cause andmoved mountains in the course of a few hours to come up with ways to help me, but I really don’t have the strength to see them off to work while I have to stay home all day.
So I wait locked up in my room, staring at the beams of light that filter through the blinds behind me, painting the darkened ceiling like a zebra. When the front door has been closed twice is when I finally allow myself to sit up. I rub my face but that doesn’t get rid of the cocktail of acid emotions in my belly.
After five minutes in the bathroom, I return to my bedroom to put on some training clothes and literally the only thing I take with me is my house key. I want to go on a run so punishing that I forget about everything but the pain in my legs, the burning in my lungs, and the sweat dripping down my face. Maybe then I’ll be able to at least nap.
I run around my neighborhood and into a nearby park only being used by young moms with baby strollers and people walking dogs. A few heads turn my way because in comparison, it’s like I’m training for a marathon. Eventually, I circle my way back home when the sun is bright enough to make the skin of my shoulders itch.
I stop in the townhouse’s foyer for a moment, leaning a hand against the wall as I fight to recover my breath. My eyes slide to the couch and I can see my name written all over it. That’s where I’ll dwell the rest of the day. But first, a protein shake and a shower.
Call me Speedy Gonzalez because I do all these things quickly, they’re part of my routine. I towel dry my hair and apply some product the girls recommended a while ago, after they discovered I didn’t use to put on anything. Marching back to my room, I select my comfiest training bra and boy shorts, and put on my rattiest T-shirt from one of the amusement parks.
As I tidy my bed up, I spot my phone on the bedside table and pick it up. Maybe I have texts from Cade or the girls. The screendoesn’t light up, though, and pressing on the buttons does nothing. The battery must be kaput. It makes sense though, what with the late night FaceTiming and all. I pick up the charging cable from the floor and plug it in before heading out.
My stomach makes a gurgling noise and instead of veering right to the living room, I turn left to the kitchen to fix myself a plate with chopped fruit, nuts, chia seeds and a healthy dollop of honey that borders on unhealthy. I don’t care.
The nuts provide some stress relief with the crunch. Grabbing the remote, I flip on the TV and change channels from HGTV to ESPN. They’re talking about professional women’s basketball and even though I’m not super versed in the sport, it’s enough to suck my attention in and make me forget my bearings. Soon the food is nice and safe in my belly and the focus has shifted to professional hockey. I probably know even less about it but the compilation of the week’s best fights sure is damn cathartic.
The clock on the wall tells me it’s about time for the audience with Cade to start. I can’t fool myself into thinking that my body temperature is dropping due to my damp hair. In truth I’m terrified.
I know Cade will do everything in his power to clarify the situation, but who knows what will happen in the end? The signs haven’t been in my favor, even if I’m not in breach of contract.
I reach for the fluffy blanket that matches the cream color decorations in the living room, and wrap myself with it. The only thing that pokes out is my hand to grab the remote and crank up the volume. Every few minutes my eyes drift from the screen to the clock, and after a while of doing this, my eyelids start growing heavy.
I don’t fight it too hard. In fact, I’d rather put off knowing what my sentence is for a bit longer. Tumbling on the couch, Iturn the TV off and drop the remote where it falls. Snuggling against the cushions, I fully close my eyes and drift off.
*
The sound of keys at the door snaps me awake.
I only have enough time to sit up before my roomies burst into the door.
“Hope! You’re alive!”
“We thought something happened to you. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Ngh.” I rub my eyes and check the clock. It’s past noon but I feel like I could’ve slept well into dinner if I wasn’t interrupted.
“You look pretty bad, are you okay?” Rose lifts up my feet so she can take a seat at the end of the couch. Meanwhile, Audrey takes her armchair facing me.
“What are you guys doing here?” I squint at them.
“I got suspended too.” Rose shrugs.
I sit upright. “What?”
“I didn’t,” Audrey clarifies. “But I’m protesting.”
“Wha—” I shake my head.
“Apparently posting an unapproved video to the team’s social media merits a suspension,” Rose explains with a pensive expression on her face. “I mean, I can see why. Someone untrustworthy could post something that tarnishes the team’s brand. But if they didn’t want something like this to happen, maybe they should’ve put it in my contract, huh?” She smirks.
