Opposite of Always(79)

He’s shoved me, bumped into me, given me the Franny Disintegrating Stare of Excruciatingly Uncomfortable Death plenty of times up and down the school hallway, but so far he hasn’t decided to kill me.

I know I deserve any pain he chooses to dish out.

Franny’s being nice to Jillian. Maybe even nicer to her now, if that makes sense. Perhaps it’s true, about not appreciating what you have until it’s gone.

I don’t need to be without Kate to appreciate her.

But I’m still without her, just the same.

It’s hard being an asshole, or at least it’s hard knowing your former best friend thinks you’re the World’s Biggest Asshole, and that you can’t really disagree with him.

And maybe there’s not exactly the happiness circus going crazy in my stomach, but I’m pretty happy with Jillian. She gets me. And she really knows me. There’s something to be said for spending the last four years of your life growing up with someone. She’s been there. And she’s still here.





The Disappointment of Ancestors


I hold out as long as I can before telling my parents.

Of course, they’ve asked and asked, Where’s Franny? Is he okay? Are you two okay?

I pick my fork back up, spear some brussels sprouts. Why are brussels sprouts the universal vegetable for tension? Every time there is unease over dinner, brussels sprouts are likely on the table. I feel bad for brussels sprouts. What a thankless gig. Everyone hates you because 1) no one prepares you properly, or because 2) you remind them of some awful dinner where they received terrible news. Poor brussels sprouts. I’m actually a fan, myself. Because normally Mom nails them.

But tonight they don’t taste the same.

And it’s safe to say that I’ve never seen my parents so angry.

Especially with me.

For your convenience, I’ve prepared a table of the highlowlights for you.

Mom and Dad’s Table of Supreme Sadness & Major Disappointment

MOM DAD

I just can’t believe you would do that to Franny! He’s your best friend, Jack! You guys have taken baths together!

I just can’t emphasize enough how thoroughly disappointed I am in you right now. I wish there was a way I could emphasize it, but I don’t think there is.

Okay, maybe a Disappointment Scale. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being disappointment of the worst kind, like say you were a murderer or something. I’d say this is a solid 8.5.

Jillian over Franny, Jack? You never choose a ho over your bro. Even I know that. Haven’t you heard that before?

I go to all of Franny’s games. I’ve literally never missed any of his games. Do you know how awkward that’s going to be for me to keep going even though he and my son are no longer friends? Did you ever think about that, Jack?

I buy extra groceries each week just because I know Franny is going to be here. And now what? Am I supposed to just rethink my entire grocery-shopping strategy?

How many times has he spent the night over here? A thousand? Three thousand? I feel like a thousand is a very realistic estimate.

Your mom and I have done our best to raise you right. All of our friends are constantly remarking on how good a kid you are. Now what are they gonna think?

Franny hasn’t had a lot of good things happen in his life and now he can add Betrayed by His Supposed Best Friend to the list. Awesome!

I just don’t understand. Did we not teach you the value of friendship?

Who are you right now? Because you’re not the Jack I know. Where’s my son Jack? My friend Jack? That’s what I want to know.



No, seriously, who are you?





Jack, You Suck, Man


And I get it, of course.

I’m mad at me, too.

But tell me, what was I supposed to do?

Keep trying the same thing over and over again?

It wasn’t working, guys.

I’m sorry.

I tried and I failed.

And then I tried and I failed more.

What choice did I have?

No, seriously, help me figure it out. I’ll wait.

Lesson number whatever: Keep your replays straight.

When you’ve experienced the same, or at least very similar, moments multiple times over, it’s easy for your brain to splice them together to make one scene.

The problem is you say things that the other person doesn’t understand because things—small, micro things—don’t happen exactly the same.

JILLIAN: Hey, where are you?

ME: Look up

She looks up from the mound of pizza dough she’s kneading, only to see me doing some weird impromptu jig in the storefront window, beside the giant Pizza Pauper decal. I open the door, the wind pushing its way inside behind me, the door chimes rattling.

“You’re late, Jack King,” Jillian says, folding her arms.

“Better late than—” but I don’t finish my sentence. I step behind the counter and kiss her instead, her nose wrinkling against my own.

How many times did I dream this?

Kissing Jillian.

Jillian kissing me back.

And now it’s here.

We stop kissing, and she grins, puts a hand on her hip. “So, you gonna help me with my French or did you just come here to eat my face?”

“Hmmm,” I say, tapping my chin. “Definitely the latter.” I lean over to kiss her and she playfully moves away.