Page 85 of Your Play to Call

Plus, he’s had an iffy few days with his anxiety. It really takes a lot out of him to travel for away games. I think of him alone in the hotel room, having a panic attack, and my heart breaks. I hope he’ll always call me if he needs me.

I’ll never forget the night he called me. The way his voice sounded on the other line. How I was actually able to help him. How he needed me.

I pick the sewing back up and do a few more patches with my initial on them.

“Wow, those look so much better,” Wendy says, looking at my most recent patches. Now I know how dismal my first few were.

“You’re a good teacher. What do you do with patches like this?” I ask.

“Oh, you can sew them into any fabric really. Put them on a corner of a pillow, a blanket, a top.”

Just like that, I have an idea.

Me

FJ – hey, I need your help with something…

Fritz (FJ) Cosmos

I’m listening

Chapter 45

Tripp

Being tired before thegame kicks off is a bad sign. I couldn’t sleep last night. Thankfully, I was anxious but didn’t have any full-blown panic attacks. The only positive.

We’re in California and I don’t think I could ever live here. The traffic makes no sense. I don’t know how anything the city offers could make up for the fucking traffic. I hate sitting in a car going nowhere.

Between the time zone and my overactive brain, I didn’t get much quality sleep.

Today is going to suck.

“Earth to Tripp,” Zack says, waving an arm at me in the locker room.

“Sorry, just beat.”

“Well, get un-beat. We need you today!” Zack says, trying to get me hyped up.

“You need me every day,” I shoot back.

“Exactly. Get it together.” He claps his hand and reaches for his jersey and pulls it on over his pads.

I do the same thing just as Fritz comes up to me.

“Tripp, there’s a hole in this one.” He points to my jersey.

I look. There are no holes. Fritz seems a little jumpy. Definitely nervous.

“What are you talking about? This jersey is fine.” I stand with my arms out, inspecting the front.

Fritz has a small pair of scissors and reaches for the bottom of the fabric and cuts it with one swift snip.

“What the fuck, Fritz? Have you lost it?” I ask and look down at the jersey that will certainly not get me through a game. The thing about a hole or a cut is that it will fray with a few tackles.

I’m too tired for this shit. If this is some prank, I’m not into it.

“Today isn’t the day for this,” I say to him as he hands me an envelope and a new jersey. It must have been on the chair behind him.