Win or Lose - PretzelCat - TW: Vomiting
What he realized more recently, though, was sometimes, the space wasn’t enough. Sometimes, the body kept the score, even in kids, and stepping into the safe space wasn’t enough for them to fully drop the shield they wore outside. Or the assumptions they had about things, about what they had to do, about what they deserved.
...
It started at practice, a few weeks into their new season, when Rochelle tried to shout a direction at someone across the field and ended up dissolving in a fit of coughing instead. His catcher had never exactly had weak lungs before, so he probably should’ve known it wasn’t nothing, whatever she might’ve said as Taylor pushed a water bottle into her hands and offered they switch.
Or:
A flu makes its rounds through the team. Just when everyone thinks it's blown over, a certain new catcher goes missing at practice, and Dan realizes he has more kids silently holding in pain than he thought. We don't write enough Taylor angst that's not somehow related to Yuwen or Ira, and I felt like awarding time to a character who's given very little of it. Fic below:
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After so many years of coaching, Dan liked to think he’d learned a lot, especially from his players.
More than anything he taught them, each new kid was a new experience for him, a new lesson learned or old one resurfaced. A new appreciation for something he might not have considered before.
One thing he was always keenly aware of was just how much of an impact he was capable of making in these kids’ lives. He knew better than most that having a safe, protected space to come to could be a godsend, especially with the way the world outside their little bubble could be. He worked hard to maintain it, for himself, and everyone else who stepped on to the field.
What he realized more recently, though, was sometimes, the space wasn’t enough. Sometimes, the body kept the score, even in kids, and stepping into the safe space wasn’t enough for them to fully drop the shield they wore outside. Or the assumptions they had about things, about what they had to do, about what they deserved.
…
It started at practice, a few weeks into their new season, when Rochelle tried to shout a direction at someone across the field and ended up dissolving in a fit of coughing instead.
His catcher had never exactly had weak lungs before, so he probably should’ve known it wasn’t nothing, whatever she might’ve said as Taylor pushed a water bottle into her hands and offered they switch.
The next day Laurie was (apparently quite reluctantly) told not to come for their usually scheduled sleepover, and Dan’s attention was tugged at.
They had a game the day after, wherein Taylor filled in as catcher - Dan had to admit having two trained catchers was a very useful model, and she filled the role masterfully - and Luciana sniffled the whole way through. For the first time ever Dan didn’t see her arguing with Borna. According to Laurie, neither of the two best friends were at school on Monday, and Dan realized what they were dealing with.
Junn quietly missed the next practice, along with Rochelle, Luciana, and Borna. Terrance gave everyone a wide berth, apparently afraid of catching whatever it was himself.
Yuwen came but with the hoarsest voice Dan had ever heard from the booming preteen. He acted in an almost drunken manner, an arrangement that ended in Taylor and Kai each taking him under one arm and marching him over to the dugout bench.
The coach watched his pitcher pout and whine at their new catcher in a way he surely wouldn’t dare to anymore if he had his wits about him. Before Dan could call Yuwen’s mother, Kai seemed to take pity on the boy and dragged him away from Taylor by the ear, coaxed him into a piggyback with his head lolling on her shoulder, muttered “it’s a short walk” and left the park with the delirious player.
Dan was glad they didn’t have a game that week, the poor kids.
Rochelle showed up good as new at their next practice, though uncharacteristically a little sheepish, probably down to the fact that Borna, Yuwen, and - bless his heart - Terrance did not.
Kai came all smiles and energy as always. An impressively convincing display considering the girl had then proceeded to practically fall asleep sitting up on the bench with what Dan was fairly sure was the highest fever out of any of the kids yet just based on touch.
“I really thought you knew better by now,” Taylor huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she laid an icepack from the cooler against Kai’s forehead. The taller girl seemed oddly comfortable with these acts of caretaking. Dan knew she had a little brother (Ira was currently across the fence, making up a drumbeat on the bleachers) and that her mother was a nurse, but nothing else really.
“’Wen’s fault…” the 13 year old mumbled, sluggishly pushing away the water Dan was trying to coax her to drink.
“He didn’t make you come, or lie about being okay,” Taylor countered. The man hummed gently in agreement.
The older kid just moaned and leaned into Dan’s side from where she sat close to him on the bench. Dan tilted his head in sympathy, obligingly wrapping an arm around her form and rubbing her shoulder in comfort.
Laurie caught it next, probably down to being the one to half support, half carry Kai to James’ car that day. She crawled weakly into Dan’s bed one night while her and Paula were staying with him for the weekend, all shivers and sweating through her shirt twice as fast as usual, his poor Lare-Bear.
The proximity led to Paula catching it too, then Dan himself. He didn’t get hit too bad, though, escaping with just a sore throat, some congestion and an unsettled stomach that thankfully never tipped over into vomiting; Paula wasn’t as lucky on that front, bringing up her breakfast on the first morning, but thankfully not getting any worse than that. The three of them holed up in his new apartment for a few days of rest, and emerged good to go by the end of the next week.
Laurie kept him updated through the kids’ group-chat that Borna was finally feeling better, and it had come and gone through Hannah and Tom too while they’d been dealing with it.
Terrance apparently asked her to personally apologize to Dan for not being able to manage the practice schedule last time and say that he’d be back this week.
He saw Kai and Yuwen running around, back to their usual selves as well by the time Laurie went back to school, and everyone was convinced the flu had run its course.
He tried not to chew himself out too hard for that one later.
…
Their next practice started out the smoothest any of them had gone in weeks. Most of the kids seemed eager to get moving again now that they were actually feeling like themselves, though he warned them all to take it a little easier; he really did not want anyone to relapse.
“Shut up, boy!” Rochelle was shouting across the space between the catcher’s box and pitcher’s mound.
“I’m just sayin,” Yuwen shrugged back lazily, tossing the ball from one hand to the other.
“From what I hear, I’m not the only one who came to practice ‘infected,’” the catcher pointed at him, scowling.
Yuwen shot a suspicious glance at Kai, standing close by, who put her hands up and said, “Just told her you came sick. Nothing else.”
The boy looked relieved. Rochelle smirked and raised an eyebrow, “Was there something else?”
“Okay,” Dan intervened quickly, stepping in the space between the two. He was happy to see the catcher and pitcher back to their usual disparate harmony, but he didn’t see a need for this to go any further. “Let’s take a water break, everyone! Then Taylor can practice catching for a bit, ‘kay Rochelle?”
“‘Kay, she’s not back from the bathroom yet though,” the catcher said as she pulled off her armor.
“Oh?” Dan looked around the field and didn’t see the girl. He saw Kai doing the same, her brow furrowed.
“She’s been gone a minute...” the center-fielder murmured, already moving towards the gate as though going to look, where she nearly collided with Luciana.
They both yelped ‘sorry’s at the same time and Kai backed up quickly, “Hey, hey, Luci, didja see Tay while you were in the restroom?”
“Uh, no?” the pink-haired girl adjusted her ponytail, frowning.
“Did you see… the restroom?” he heard Borna joke, gesturing at the girl’s bangs as he passed her her water bottle. She snorted and they walked into the dugout with the air of a brewing squabble.
Kai turned towards Dan, her face taut with worry now, “Coach, do you think-“
“I’m sure she’s alright,” he said, putting a hand on Kai’s shoulder.
Rochelle was lingering by the dugout, still holding her helmet, listening, and Laurie walked over from her spot by the fence - her favorite place to stand and cheer or take notes during practice ever since she'd quit playing - to stand beside Kai, he looked at all three of them reassuringly.
“How about you go check the girl’s bathroom, just in case. And I’ll check around outside. We’ll find her.”
He spoke it to Kai, though Laurie and Rochelle both followed as she nodded and hurried away.
He poked his head into the dugout to tell the rest of the team he’d only be gone for a minute, and to please behave, his gaze passed over Luciana and Borna as the boy was unceremoniously shoved.
As he made his way towards the side of the restroom building, his mind flicked automatically through what it should have earlier.
Rosh, Luciana and Borna, Yuwen, Kai and Laurie…
All had gotten sick, all were better now. It kept flicking through names.
…Hannah, Tom, Taylor… Taylor…
Had she? She might have, over the weekend, and just hadn’t notified anyone like the others.
Taylor? Be the one to not share important info like that?
Slim chance. Dan was worried now too.
He had just completed a full circle around the restroom building when he heard a quiet noise, like something thumping down into the grass, not loud, but he followed it towards the equipment shed anyway.
The noise was then followed by a different one, breathing. But not normal sounding, the kind that was heavy and fast, like it was being taken in bursts. Similar to what he sometimes heard from the kids during warmups, when they forgot to breathe through the movements.
This was far from a warmup session, though, as it turned out.
Dan rounded the corner to the back of the shed to see Taylor hunched over on her hands and knees.
He froze for a split second. The girl was facing away, her shoulders rising and falling in fast, uneven breaths. He half registered a slight foul smell in the air as he unfroze and rushed over.
“Taylor! Whoa, hey.”
He crouched hurriedly beside the girl, anxiety now edged with panic.
“…C- Coach?”
The girl’s head turned towards him. She looked awful, her eyes shadowed and watery, her face with a definite grayish tinge in the sunlight.
“Hey, kiddo,” he kept his voice as low and steady as possible, “what’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth, then covered it with a fist and looked away again, “Nugh- mmg- s-sorry…”
Dan realized what was happening a split second before the girl’s shoulders hiked up and she hunched further in on herself as she retched into the grass. By the look of the ground in front of her, not for the first time.
“Oh, kiddo,” he murmured, sympathy flooding through him like cold water. He instinctively reached out to place a hand on her upper back but she flinched and made a strangled noise of protest at the contact and he pulled it away.
It was only a moment later she spat out the last of the wave and sat, groaning and shaky, back on her knees. The sun illuminated her face, shiny with sweat and contorted in pain.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” he assured, reaching out again but warning her this time, “I’m just gonna touch your forehead, that’s all.”
She still tensed as he did so but didn’t flinch away. He wasn’t surprised to find the skin overheated and clammy. Not the warmest fever-heat he’d felt that month, but not great.
He heard Taylor stifle a burp and prepared for her to double over again. She held out for a moment, though, swaying slightly.
“S… sorry…” she said again, her head turning sideways towards him, “d- didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay, really, don’t be sorry. We all already caught it, you’re just the last one,” he smiled sadly, pushing one free-hanging lock of braided hair out of her face. She tensed slightly at that too, and he felt guilty for forgetting so quickly.
Her expression shifted briefly to something like confusion at his words, “W- wha… I… d…”
She didn’t get to go on as another wave of nausea rolled through her and she dropped back to all fours.
A small whimper of sympathy escaped Dan before he could stop it.
Every instinct told him to rub the sick kid’s back, to cuff her shoulder, to wrap his arms around her in a gentle hug between waves. But if physical touch was only going to make it worse, he would do his best without it.
“You’re okay. It’ll pass. It’s all alright,” he murmured, as warm and gentle as he could. He saw how little food she was bringing up and winced. The preteen's muscles were tensing and rolling in spasms as her body fought desperately to expel what was ailing her, “I know it hurts. Just let it all out. It’ll go away.”
A small sob forced its way out of her shaking frame, and another sympathetic noise slipped out as he continued to whisper comforts. He’d never seen Taylor look so small, so fragile.
She was normally one of the kids who practically never stopped, though she lacked the bravado of Yuwen, the hustle of Rochelle, the eagerness to prove herself like Kai. Her confidence always felt so… earnest, not looking for any attention. He’d only learned recently that being a catcher was even a personal goal of hers; most of the time she just filled needs that came. Especially recently, Dan admitted. He never asked her to, but now, seeing the state she was in, he wondered if he should’ve done more than just not ask. He’d never tried to stop her either.
Taylor gasped for air and coughed as finally, finally, the retching let up, for now at least. With effort, she weakly pushed herself back on her knees again and wiped her mouth.
“Good job,” he cooed, puffing out a breath, “you did so good.”
The middle-schooler grunted miserably in acknowledgment. Her dizzy swaying was worse than before, Dan noticed.
He offered his hands out and suggested, hoping not to pressure her, “You don’t have to get up yet, but, I can help you sit comfier?”
She hesitated, then reluctantly took them. He gripped her clammy palms gently and helped ease her back to sit fully with her legs splayed out in front of her, leaning back against the wall of the shed.
“Dad!”
Laurie’s fearful voice sounded suddenly behind him, and he turned to see his daughter running up to them, anxiously gripping her hands together as she took in the scene.
“Hey, Laur,” he managed a reassuring smile, “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. Can you do me a favor and get Taylor’s water bottle for me?”
Laurie nodded worriedly and scurried away towards the field. Dan turned back to Taylor, who gulped thickly and looked down, not meeting his eyes.
He kept his tone as soft and non-accusing as possible as he asked what he’d asked all the under-the-weather kids he’d ever dealt with who had decided training was more important than their own bodies, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her foot thumped nervously on the ground in front of her as she mumbled, voice thin and ragged after the bout, “I didn’t think… I mean… I didn’t know I was… sick… I… am… I?”
Dan blinked, momentarily thrown off by bewilderment, “Yes? You… you just got finished throwing up, Taylor.”
“Y- yeah, I mean, ‘course, ‘course I did,” she attempted a forced chuckle, as if trying to play her question off as just her being silly, and coughed a little into her sleeve instead.
“So… how would you think you’re not sick?” he inquired, not letting it go immediately.
She hesitated, her lips tight in a way Dan was fairly sure didn’t have to do with nausea, “I just… sometimes… do that anyway… so…”
“What?” he interrupted, a little alarm slipping into his voice against his will.
“N- not all the time or anything,” she said quickly, “just… when I’m stressed… mostly.”
Mostly?
“And, I kinda… well… Ira started coughing last night…”
Dan hadn’t thought anything of Ira’s absence today. Sometimes the curious young boy came with Taylor to practice, and sometimes he didn’t. He had considered that the girl’s little brother likely wouldn’t be immune to this flu either, and warned him to keep his distance from the team, but also realized that if Taylor had the choice not to bring him along, she likely wouldn’t.
He shook off his thoughts and worries and nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“So, like, I’ve been worried all day… and tired… and I thought… that was enough to make me flare up. I didn’t-“
She was interrupted by hurried footsteps as Lauire came back with the teal, sticker covered bottle. She passed it to him and then stood anxiously, eyeing her ill former-teammate. She was followed a moment later by Rochelle, Kai, and Yuwen, clearly having caught on to the situation.
“Taylor! Are you okay?” Yuwen asked first as they came running up, his usual cockiness gone. That shouldn’t have surprised the coach.
“Clearly no,” Rochelle told him immediately, “and I don’t think she needs obvious questions right now.”
“Oh, Tay…” Kai frowned sympathetically.
Dan looked back at Taylor. She’d brought her knees up to her chest, not meeting any of their eyes as her chin rested on her arms. Her face was contorted with something else now. Shame. Unmistakably. Dan’s heart hurt. Rochelle was right, she very much did not look in the mood for any of her peers’ questions or stares.
“She’ll be okay, you all. Everything’ll be alright. You can head back to the field now.”
“But-“
“Now, please. I’ll be there soon,” he asserted gently.
The three players hovered reluctantly. Laurie looked at him for a moment, then nodded, understanding filling her gaze as it one more time flicked to Taylor.
“C’mon, guys,” his daughter took a step away and beckoned the others to follow.
The two girls stepped toward her. Yuwen hesitated and Laurie held the pitcher’s gaze, unabashed, for a moment. The boy swallowed and turned to follow as well. Dan knew he could trust none of the other kids would come interrupting as he watched Laurie walk back towards the field.
“Here,” he turned back to Taylor once they’d left, handing her the water, “drink slowly.”
She sipped carefully in silence for a moment, exhaling with relief as the cool water flowed over her ravaged throat. Afterwards her gaze dropped back to the ground. The shame wasn’t gone from her eyes.
“I didn’t know I’d caught it, okay?” she muttered, sounding defeated, though they hadn’t been arguing, “I wouldn’t lie, promise. I was just being dumb.”
“No, no. You’re not dumb, kiddo. Really not. You hear me? I’m just worried that you thought it was normal. Is… is this normal for you?”
He gestured at the puddle of vomit, soaking into the grass.
“Yeah? No? It’s… not usually that bad. Hardly ever that bad. I just wasn’t thinking clear. Of course I’m just sick,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes, sniffling.
“Do you know… I mean…” Dan trailed off, realizing that questions from her coach probably weren’t much fun right now either, “I don’t wanna pry, and I know you don’t feel good but, can I ask why? Why throwing up is normal to you, I mean. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you do it.”
The catcher hugged her shoulders, a small, sickly shiver running through her.
“Acid reflux,” she began, “and IBS that makes it worse sometimes. And some other stuff we’re not sure about. It’s really not that bad. Like I said, mostly I’m fine unless I’m stressed, and practice isn’t stressful. Games are… fine. I mean, they’re all the emotions. It’s overwhelming sometimes but I manage.”
She looked up, then down again embarrassedly, as if she’d said too much. Dan just nodded neutrally, though.
“Okay. That’s all okay, you know. And listen, we can talk more later. But, if you ever feel this way - even a little this way - at practice, or at a game, you can always say something,” he assured, “Nothing’s more important than you guys taking care of yourselves. I guess I really need to remind y’all more.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on the girl’s face for a moment, then she nodded and said, “Okay… uh… are you sure… I mean…” she trailed off and rubbed her face again, as if trying to formulate her words was difficult, then tried again, “I guess I usually think… it’s… there’s not time for… for that…”
“Not time?”
“Yeah- uh- forget it. Never mind,” she waved it off sluggishly, looking awkward.
“Of course there’s time, Taylor,” he assured anyway, “There’ll always be time here for how you feel. Okay?”
The girl blinked at that. Dan smiled sadly seeing that her downcast eyes were glistening a bit. He waited patiently as she blinked a few more times and coughed once, seeming to compose herself, “Okay… th- thanks, I guess I just… don’t like making it a big deal. Or people asking stuff. Or people… laughing.”
He frowned.
This kid…
“I get it. But no one’s gonna laugh. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Her head turned with exaggerated slowness towards the vomit as she gave the most disbelieving deadpan expression he’d ever seen.
“Really, I’m serious,” he asserted, suppressing a chuckle. He was glad to see her acting a little more like herself, but he needed to make sure she understood, “and it’s not ever gonna be okay if they do laugh. I’ll make sure they know. That’s what I do. Everyone’s got a job, it’s my job to make sure you take care of yourselves while you have fun. So, I’ll always have time for this.”
She gave a small nod, then finally looked up at him, her dulled eyes not quite meeting his, but nonetheless attentive.
“And I’ve seen much worse than a kid throwing up,” he continued good-naturedly.
“Really?” she asked quietly.
“Really.”
He was a dad of two, and he’d been coaching kids of a variety of ages for the better part of his whole life. He was desensitized much more than most to any “grossness” that came with having a body.
The girl fiddled absently with one of her tied-up braids, thinking, “Hmm.”
“Not everyone has to know when something’s going on. It can stay between you and me. Just, try not to go hiding away like this again.”
He gestured around at the space, which had become shaded by the afternoon sun. Taylor looked around too and puffed out a breath, then looked back and nodded in agreement. Her eyes were tired, but sincere.
“Good,” he smiled, “Now, you think you can walk?”
She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist and took another sip of water, then said, “Probably…”
She looked reluctant though. Whether it was because of illness or still not feeling up to facing her teammates, he gave her the choice, “You can also stay here for a little longer, take your time. If you sit tight, I’ll grab you a towel, and maybe some ice, and call your mom.”
She nodded but told him, “She’s probably at the hospital right now.”
“Your dad then,” he amended.
She groaned and pressed the heel of her hand to her face, “He’s gonna make that soup I hate.”
Dan chuckled again, looser now, “Just part of being a dad, kid. You can’t get too mad.”
The girl rubbed her temples to fend back a headache, though she was smiling a little too.
He gestured for her to wait there, got up and started towards the dugout.
He kept his ears open as he came towards the gate, automatically bracing for some kind of squabble or mess. He heard nothing of the sort.
The coach stepped onto the field and scanned the area, spotting his kids making their way in a loose line across the opposite side. They were jogging laps. Laurie was following slowly at the back of the group, calling encouragements.
Dan smiled, surprised. He had no idea how she’d swung that, but as she glanced over and spotted him he clapped his hands and poured all his gratitude and love out into his face. He’d been trying to let the expansive emotions he felt show more lately, especially his care. His daughters deserved it. Laurie smiled back, then turned to her team again.
He stepped into the empty dugout and grabbed an ice pack from the cooler, then the towel that was sitting at the top of Taylor’s open bag.
With the items in hand, he made his way back to the space behind the shed.
He returned to find Taylor leaning back against the wall again, her legs no longer scrunched up. She’d edged further away from the puddle of vomit now. Her eyes were closed. Her brow still betrayed discomfort, but that was all. No panic. No embarrassment. No shame.
He sat down quietly beside her.
Her eyes opened halfway and she glanced toward him slowly.
“May I?” he asked, indicating her and then the ice pack and cloth. She nodded.
First, he gently wiped around her mouth, and then her damp brow with the small towel, then picked up the flexible blue pack again. It was cold enough to have numbed his fingers on the walk over here. He wrapped the clean side of the towel around the outside to take the sharp edge off that cold before laying it across her forehead. She still gasped softly at the initial sensation, then sighed after a moment, relief etched on her exhausted face at the respite from the oppressive heat she’d no doubt felt when she wasn’t shivering.
The 12 year old’s eyes closed again as she inhaled deeply. Her breathing was still a little heavy, and slightly congested now, but it was even and deep, and gradually slowing down as she mumbled a sleepy, “Thanks… coach…”
He smiled.
He would step away soon, call her dad, gently rouse her so she could go home to her brother and some unwanted, probably sorely needed, soup. But, right now, he would just let her have a moment. He would give her the time she hadn’t thought she was allowed to have. A little longer of this peace amidst the safe, quiet space.
“Of course, kiddo.”
