Chapter 22: Queasy

A year into the marriage, Raven Grandwell threw up in a stadium tunnel, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and told the trainer he was fine.

"That's the third time this week," said the trainer.

"Bad shrimp."

"You haven't eaten shrimp since the wedding."

"Then it's a very old shrimp," said Raven, and walked back onto the court with his stomach rolling.

He scored thirty-four and was dizzy through the whole fourth quarter.

At the Jones Center on the other side of town, Noah was having the same sort of morning.

He had arrived at seven, taken one breath inside the waiting room, and walked straight into the supply closet with his hand over his mouth.

The fish tank smelled terrible.

It had smelled fine for two years.

"It's the tank," he told the receptionist. "We should replace the water."

"We replaced it Monday," she said.

"Then replace it again."

Thompson, who was in the corner on his lunch break with a clear water bottle and a sandwich, looked up.

He studied Noah's grey face over the rim of the bottle.

"You look terrible," he said.

"I'm fine."

"I've been tracking your 'fines' for three weeks. It's up thirty percent."

"You don't have a tally," said Noah.

"I have a very good memory," said Thompson, and took another bite.

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