Opposite of Always(57)

“Hey,” I say back.

She leans in and I meet her lips and— Have you ever kissed someone where every kiss feels as magical and as necessary as the very first?

Because I have.

Just now.





Not This Time


We’re an hour into my parents’ party and Kate’s nowhere to be found.

Which at first isn’t alarming. Kate is a lot of things, awesome things, but punctuality is not her bag. Even still, I would’ve expected her by now.

And I can’t help but think the worst.

That last time, on this very day, she was lying in a hospital bed. But this time, things are different, I tell myself. This time things are better.

I text Kate: Hey, where are you? Are you okay?

But she doesn’t reply.

I let thirty minutes pass before I try calling her. But it rings and rings.

And now it’s safe to say I’m concerned.

A few of my parents’ old friends try to make small talk. They ask me about college, if I know what I’m going to study, where I’m going to live, if I’m excited to finally spread my own wings.

I do my best to smile, to nod, to be hospitable.

But there’s a feeling spinning in my gut. A dread I can’t explain, or place. I call Kate again, but this time it goes straight to voice mail. None of my texts show delivered.

I know it’s probably nothing. She’s turned her phone off. Her battery’s died. She’s in an area with poor reception. She’s driving. A hundred plausible explanations.

But none of them are strong enough to combat the feeling that something’s happened. Something’s seriously wrong. I consider leaving, hopping in the car, driving to her house.

Then I hear Franny’s voice in the microphone.

“It’s time, everyone. Jack King, please report to the stage.”

The crowd turns stage-side.

I try Kate once more as I walk toward Jillian and Franny, their instruments already in hand. Voice mail.

“Kate, please, please call me as soon as you get this,” I say.

I pick up the microphone, tap on it lightly. A shrill of feedback makes everyone turn in my direction.

“Mom and Dad, if you could come and take a seat up front please,” I say, waving them over from across the lawn. I have notecards inside my suit jacket, but I don’t reach for them. “It’s been thirty years since you two began your journey together. Thirty years since you said yes to each other, and I do to the future. And you’ve had your share of valleys, of disappointments, of, dare I say, regrets. And yet here you are. Together still. Happy still. And so here we are, friends and family, to share in this day all these years later. Some of us probably thought you wouldn’t make it.”

Laughs.

“I mean, not for as long as you have, anyway. But screw those people, right? Because they obviously don’t know anything.”

More laughs this time, a few whoops, some applause.

“Because in the end, it comes down to what you’ve told me ever since I could walk. Nothing good in life comes easy, but it’s about deciding each day that you will stick with it. You choose to stay, to work hard, to love, and you keep choosing. You are the perfect example of two imperfect people making it work. I thank you for that. For everything. So, if you will, please join in raising your glasses for Nina and Abe, my mom and dad. Thirty years from now, we’ll do this again, in this same place, at this same time, hopefully surrounded by these same people. Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. And if you two wanna sneak away for a bit, the rest of us will pretend not to notice you’re missing. But hurry back, okay, this is your party after all. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” everyone echoes.

Kate’s still MIA. I clear my throat, push on. “Now, while we still have your undivided attention, my friends and I have been working really hard on something special for you. So, this is our gift. We hope you enjoy. And if you don’t, just do what you’ve done my entire life whenever you haven’t wanted to stifle my creativity: fake it.”

Mom blows me a kiss, and Dad gives me a thumbs-up, both of them grinning. I nod to my fellow bandmates—my best friends in the world. They nod back. I pick up my horn, let it settle against my lips, and I blow.

And we play like we invented music.

We are in perfect sync.

We are in perfect measure.

Overhead, the clouds thin and vanish.

The small lanterns strung across the backyard fence glitter like fool’s gold.

A hundred people sway.

And life, all in all, has been pretty good to me, yes.

But this moment is perfect. Spectacular.

Maybe it’s the wine.

Maybe it’s the trumpet in my hands, the cool brass against my fingertips.

Maybe it’s the smiles stretched across my parents’ faces. The joy that’s welling up in their eyes, the happy tears they don’t bother to wipe away.

Maybe it’s just that kind of night.

Maybe it’s goddamn everything.

Everything rolled into one.

And it’s hard to imagine better.

That’s when I get the call.





Second Chances Are Still Just Chance


There’s nothing but open road as far as I can see.

This time I know what to do.