I close Madison’s email, placing my phone back in my coat pocket. I guess I won’t text to ensure she is up then call her like last night. My excitement to share tonight’s game with her evaporates.
My head in my hands, I hunch forward, elbows on my knees. An acrid taste fills my mouth, and my stomach feels heavy. The overwhelming need to comfort Madison feuds with my need to celebrate with my team.
My mind races with possibilities. The team flies home tomorrow; our next game is in two days. I could hop a flight tonight and be in Columbia when she wakes up. Since I start game four, I could spend the entire day with her and fly home in time for game three.
Coach will understand when I explain what’s going on, that my head isn’t here with the team, as it is. I’ll promise him a clearer head in time for my start in the fourth game.