Page 115 of Coach
“I am. I work from home.”
“Oh, that’s handy.”
Dammit.
That squashed any hope that he might leave each day, giving me a chance to escape without him chasing me down.
Oh, well. I would just have to… sneak out without him knowing. Or, I don’t know, knock him over the head or something.
I would figure it out.
I had to.
“More time to spend with you.”
Oh, joy.
“Um, Coach?” I asked, making my voice even sweeter.
“George,” he corrected. “I want you to call me George.”
“George,” I said, the name unnatural on my lips. “I was wondering… do you have any acetaminophen?” I asked.
“Acetaminophen?” George repeated.
“My face and head really hurt,” I explained, gesturing with both my hands to my head.
“Oh.” He looked at me then like he just realized how messed up I looked. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. I got the sports drink you like too! Blue.”
“The only color worth buying.”
“I’ll be right back with the medicine. Then maybe we can talk some more.”
“Maybe after I rest for a little bit? Just until the headache subsides a bit. Right now, it hurts to think.”
“Oh.” He was disappointed at that, but he was fighting his greater and lesser angels over it. He’d been planning and preparing for this for so long. And I was asking for time. “Maybe a short one.”
“That would be great. Thank you so much.”
With that, he was off.
Alone, I buried my face in my hands for a second, letting myself sink into the misery for a moment. I hadn’t been lying about how much it hurt to think, to speak, to just breathe.
“Do you get headaches a lot?” George asked when he came back with the bottle of meds and the sports drink.
“Only when I hit my head.” And have my brain deprived of oxygen to the point of unconsciousness.
“Good. Because we have a lot of… catching up to do.”
“Definitely,” I agreed, taking my pills and sipping my drink. “I’m just going to rest my eyes for a little bit.”
“Okay. And when you get up, we will have dinner.”
“You cooked?”
“You’re going to cook.”
“Oh. Uh. Okay. Down here?”
