Opposite of Always(72)

“That seems random.”

“If everything works out, it’ll sorta be like she’s still with us,” I say.

Confusion contorts her face, her black curls wiggling around her ears. “You’re being so weird this morning. You’ve been weird the last few days actually.”

She’s right. I have been weird. But you would be, too, if you were counting down the hours until you could take your girlfriend to the doctor’s appointment meant to save her life.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me anything,” she says. We ride the next mile in silence before she speaks again. “You may actually have a shot with my brother, you know?”

“Now who’s being random,” I say. “And no chance. He already hates me.”

I’ll be honest, it’s intimidating to think that in just a couple of days I’m going to be sitting at Kate’s dinner table, eating dinner with her parents, with her siblings.

But something about it is pretty cool, too.

When Kate falls asleep, we’re still forty minutes away. She wakes up as I pull into the lot. She stares at the squat, gray building. “What are we doing here?”

We spend the entire waiting-room period with Kate bombarding me with questions. If I was a hostile enemy territory and Kate’s questions were drone-guided explosives, by the end of the twenty-minute wait I would’ve been a barren wasteland.

Here’s a brief snapshot:

Why am I filling this out, Jack?

No, really, why are we here?

I don’t think you realize how much this guy costs?

How much is this appointment going to cost?

You realize it’s not covered by insurance, his treatment?

That even if it was, the copay would be astronomical, right?

I just don’t get why we’re here. There’s no way we can afford this, you know that, right? I’ve told you this before, Jack.

We’re wasting our time. We’re wasting the doctor’s time.

I mean, what’s the point?

Oh my God, Jack, please don’t tell me this is why you sold your car?

Somehow I keep my lips sealed during the entire episode, despite my mouth being full of Good Supportive Boyfriend material, like: Who cares how much it costs, we’re talking about your life. And, yes, this is why I sold my car, but I would’ve sold my parents’ house, too, if it were possible.

Only I’m learning that sometimes it’s not what you say that matters most. Or not even what you don’t say. Those things are cool, helpful even. But it’s about doing. Do something. Do anything. Do what you can and then when it feels like you’ve done all you could, do more.

A nurse calls Kate’s name.

I hesitate to stand, because I don’t want to be presumptuous, though I’d really like to go in with her. Kate stands. “I want you to come with me,” she says.

I stand beside her.





A Nutshell: What Sickle Cell Is & What Dr. Sowunmi Intends to Do About It


So, Kate’s oxygen-carrying cells tend to sickle.

Meaning, they’re too hard. Too rodlike. And sometimes they get wedged in her arteries, which means her tissues don’t get the oxygen they need. Tissues without oxygen means it’s hard for the body to do anything, like move or breathe, means intense pain, and other symptoms I don’t fully comprehend.

But Dr. Sowunmi and his team can use these, uh, enzymes, called zinc-finger nucleases, which they’ll zap into her genes, and with any luck they’ll correct the mutation that causes Kate’s cells to sickle. The hope is that they’ll also replicate the healthy cells in her body.

The whole process involves two carefully engineered injections.

“Kate will need both injections,” Dr. Sowunmi explains. “This is critical.”

“How soon after the first can she receive the second?”

Dr. Sowunmi smiles. “Shortly after. We’ll monitor her progress closely and if all goes well, it’ll be only about six or seven months.”

Of course this isn’t a big deal to the doctor. But six or seven months is a death sentence. Because, if this whole thing resets like last time, we only have three months left.

“What would happen if she were to receive the second injection sooner?” I ask.

“Her body wouldn’t be ready. She could go into shock.”

“Meaning?”

“She could die.”





Operation: Try Not to Make a Total Fool of Yourself


KATE: Just don’t mind Reggie, okay? He’s acting extra today.

I get this warning text from Kate on my way to meet Reggie and the rest of the Edwards clan. Kate’s text does the opposite of its intent, because it makes me already mind Reggie.

But Reggie, it turns out, is rather difficult to not mind. Reggie has made it his mission on earth to be minded by me.

“Jack, this is Reggie,” Kate says. “My baby bro.”

I extend my hand. “Hey, Reggie, nice to meet . . .”

But Reggie just stares at me and my outstretched hand as though he caught me scratching my butt. “You break my sister’s heart, Jack”—he says Jack really hard, makes it pop—“and I’ll break your face. Bet.”

Granted, Reggie is three years younger than me, and a good four inches shorter, but still his threat really resonates.