Unknown - driven

“Oh yeah,” was all Dylan had words for.

Cat picked up the phone, took her tea from the counter, and tucked her Kleenex under her arm as she headed to the couch. Once she was there she sat everything on the coffee table, which was littered with aspirin bottles, various nasal decongestants, throat sprays and a big bottle of Nyquil.

She felt awful; it was the worst cold she remembered since childhood. Hamlet yawned and flipped over on his back, his favorite toy lodged in his mouth. “Yes, I called it a cold, alright?” she grumbled. “God, just kill me. Maybe then I can get some sleep.”

She stared at the phone. Something, some inner voice, was telling her to call her folks. She didn?t know why it was so insistent. She?d, after all, called them at least twice a week since she?d moved away.

This was different, though.

“Probably the fever,” she muttered before lifting the handset from the receiver and dialing the number she knew by heart.

The phone rang three times before her mother finally picked it up.

“Mom, it Cat.”

“Sweetheart, you sound awful.”

“I feel awful. I have a horrible cold and I needed my Mommy,” she whined in the most convincing voice possible, which wasn?t really hard.

Her mother chuckled. “I?m glad to hear it. Do you have a fever?”

“Probably.”

“Have you taken your temperature?”

“Mom, my throat is sore, my nose is so plugged I can?t take a drink without feeling like I?m choking, and my head feels like it?s in Daddy?s vise. If I have a fever, it?s the least of my worries.”

“Oh honey, I?m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Gargle with warm salt water.”

“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the much detested childhood cure.

“You know it works.”

Cat sighed. “Yes Mom.”

“Other than the cold, are you all right sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I just felt miserable and wanted to call. How are you guys doing?”

“We?re fine, dear. Your brother Luke has a new girlfriend who ate supper with us tonight. I?m not exactly sure where she got her manners, but it surely wasn?t within a godfearing family like ours.”

Cat allowed her mother to ramble on without comment, soaking in the sound of her voice like a poultice. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, and stiffened quickly when she heard her mother?s strident tone.

“Don?t you agree, dear?”

“More than you could ever know,” Cat replied, winging it. “We?re going on a road trip day after tomorrow.”

“Flying?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, that should be fun. Especially with you as stuffed up as you are.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can they put you in the injured list?”

“Mom, I wouldn?t let them bench me when I was hurt, I?m sure not going to do it over a cold. Besides if the team doctor thinks I can?t play, they?ll make me sit out anyhow, but I still have to go.”

“I wish I could help, but I?m several hundred miles away and I?m going to see your grandma tomorrow.”

“Give her hugs and kisses for me.”

“Oh I will. She?s so proud of you. She?s got a big poster of you framed in the living room.”

“Oh God. Where did she get that?”

“I asked her the same thing and she showed me. She got on the Internet, Cat, and ordered off the Badgers? website.”

“You?re joking, right? My grandmother knows how to use the web?”

Since her grandmother was pushing ninety, she felt justified in asking the question.

“And apparently she?s very good at it, too.”

Cat laughed, which caused her to cough. “Well Mom, I feel like crap, so I?m going to drink my tea, take my Nyquil and go to bed.”

“As yes, Nyquil, the take in the kitchen and hope to hell you make it to the bedroom medicine.”

“To hell with the bedroom. I?m sleeping on the couch.”

“Well, take care of yourself and call me when you get home.”

“Oh, I will. Give my love to Dad and the boys. I?ll talk to you soon. Love ya Mom.”

“Love you too, honey. Feel better soon.”

“I?ll try my best. Bye.”

“Bye Catherine.”

Two days later, the Badgers and their coaching staff were waiting at Gate 22-A, ready to board the commercial flight that would take them to Los Angeles. Where most teams flew in private planes chartered by the owner, the Badgers were stuck with commercial transportation given that Johnson scored a good deal with one of the lesser known?and cheap?national carriers.

As a result, the team, and especially Dylan, was mobbed the moment they stepped into the terminal by autograph seeking fans, and not even the close confines of the planes they flew provided them any relief. Security was non-existent on such trips, and Dylan was about at the end of her rope.

This trip was no different, though Mac, the assistant coaches and trainers had formed a phalanx around Dylan, allowing her at least some respite from the crush of fawning humanity.

They all breathed sighs of relief when the gate attendant finally called for boarding of their flight.

Just as she was about to board, Cat?s cellphone rang, and she stepped out of line to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey, sis.” Her brother Luke was on the other end, and just the tone of his voice sent alarm bells ringing.

“Luke? What is it? What?s wrong?”

“It?s Mom. She?s been in an accident.”

Cat?s stomach plummeted to the floor. She could feel herself pale and a buzzing hiss filled her ears.

Dylan noticed immediately and beckoned Mac over. Mac took one look at Cat, nodded to Dylan, and took over the job of escorting the rest of the team onto the plane.

“Cat? Are you there?”

“Y-yes. I?m here. How?how is she?”

“I dunno, sis. Dad just called a few minutes ago. He?s on the way to the hospital now. He told me to call you and ask you to wait wherever you are until he can get a hold of you.”

“I?m in the airport, just about to board the plane to Los Angeles.”

An hand came down on Cat?s shoulder, and she looked up into the concerned eyes of Dylan. The Coach shook her head once in silent communication, and Cat nodded.

“I?ll stay right here, Luke, alright? If Dad calls you first, tell him to call me as soon as he can.”

“I will, sis. I gotta go. I don?t want to tie up the phone lines.”

“Okay, Luke. I?ll talk to you later.”

Ending the call, Cat folded her phone closed and turned to Dylan. “My mom?.”

Reading Cat?s face easily, Dylan took her hand and led her away from the crowded and gawping gate.

Cat followed Dylan?s lead, her body on auto-pilot, holding her tears in by sheer strength of will.

Dylan led Cat down the twists and turns of the terminal until she reached a set of unobtrusive steel doors, which she pushed open and stepped through into a relatively small, elegantly furnished, and nearly empty room. Dylan continued walking over to a corner table that sat by the large bank of polarized windows which provided a panoramic view of the tarmac below. She ushered Cat into one of the chairs, then squatted down by the younger woman?s side, not touching, but close.

Cat felt the tears begin to fall, and she ducked her head, unable to control them any longer. “She?was in an accident. I don?t know? if she?s gonna? be alright.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dylan whispered, reaching out and gathering Cat into a comforting, secure embrace.

Cat?s hands reached out blindly, crushing the lapels of Dylan?s blazer in a desperate grip as she let the fear for her mother roll over her in tumultuous waves. It was something she hated to do, cry in front of others, but Dylan made her feel safe enough to let out the fear and grief she felt in the only way she could.

Gradually, the force of the wave slackened somewhat and, with a shake of her head, Cat finally pulled away, wiping her reddened, puffy eyes with the heel of her hands. She flushed when she saw the state of Dylan?s crumpled, damp suit.