After a late snack at El Vaquero's last night with Ann and Igor, we (Tyler, Scott and I) were so full, and so tired, we just went straight to bed when we got home.
Close to 11 we got a call from a friend of mine who was probably calling to tell me that she was still to sick to work out in the morning. We couldn't find the phone and I was too tired to call back. Almost immediately the phone started ringing again and this time it was Tayler. Scott found the phone and answered it.
It was clear Tayler was having a panic attack of some sort about being away from home and having to be at this soccer boot camp. Scott was telling her to breathe, and asking her what was going on, and saying over and over that he could not just come and pick her up.
She asked to talk to me and said she was so sore she could barely move, and she can't do this anymore, and she just wants to come home and some other things that were unintelligible because her mouth was too close to the phone and she was crying uncontrollably.
Everything I said didn't calm her down, she had worked her way into hysterics and wasn't really listening.
Tayler, I said, I can't come pick you up. But you need to calm down. You need to find one of the camp counselors or coaches to help you calm down.
They won't help me, she said.
How do you know? I asked.
