“Yes, it’s a cold,” she says. “I want a second opinion since he looked like he could be in high school. He didn’t even have facial hair,” she says and then starts to cough again. “I’m sorry about not sending Elsa, but I checked Google and she can’t catch my cold.” I almost want to laugh when I think about her googling it. “Anyway, I have to go lie down.”

“Take care and call me when you feel better,” I tell her, and she groans as she disconnects. I get my Uber app out, and I order her a shit ton of soups to be delivered every hour. Then I call Amanda, who answers on the second ring. “Hey,” I tell her. “I kind of need a special favor.”

“Seriously, this woman has you doing all types of things you never did. I can’t wait for you to just propose and get it over with,” she says, laughing. “Then you can be normal and send her flowers.”

I laugh. “Funny. But I was wondering if you can maybe put together a care package.” She doesn’t talk. “Get every single cough medicine that you can get and put it together with some flowers.”

“Cough medicine,” she repeats.

“And flowers.” I mention that. “But nothing that says I like you or anything like that. What flowers would you send to a friend?” I ask her, and she laughs.

“No flowers,” she answers. “Yellow rose is the friendship flower.”

“Fine. Send her five dozen of those with the care package,” I say, getting into my car.

“Five dozen?” she shrieks.

“Too much?” I ask her, and she laughs.

“A touch overboard, yes,” she says. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“I knew you would,” I say and disconnect the phone. The game is a blur, but we win it in the last minute, thank God, and when I get back into the dressing room, I see that she sent me a text.

Vivienne: Thank you for the soup and the medicine and the flowers.

I smile and answer her right away.

Me: And you said we couldn’t be friends.

She doesn’t answer me, and for the rest of the night, I wonder if she’s okay or if I should call and check on her. I’ve paced my apartment from top to bottom, and when it’s finally a decent hour, I call her, and she answers on the fifth ring.

“You sound better,” I tell her, and she hums.

“I feel so much better,” she says. “I have to say the soup did wonders and so did all the medicine that you sent.”

“Glad I could help a friend,” I say, smiling. “I’m leaving today for Florida, so you’ll have to keep the fish for a couple more days.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “We’ll talk more when you get back.”