Opposite of Always(90)

Before I can get a word out, Franny’s dad walks away, thumping his shoulder into the automatic door before it can fully open, turning the next corner.

I walk back to the waiting room, my face buzzing with anger and sadness. I think of my friend lying there, hurting, just hurting, with no one in the room that loves him.

I want to be in the stadium.

I want back in the box.

Hit or miss, I need to swing.

The cafeteria is closed, so Mom hands out snacks from the vending machine.

Every half hour Dad checks in with the front desk for updates, but they keep telling him there’s nothing new to report.

“No news is good news,” Franny’s dad says. Which somehow seems typical of him, that he’d equate nothing with something good.

Jillian sips on a coffee. Her hands are shaky and she keeps spilling it down her arm and on her chair.

Rita’s on her phone, talking to her parents, and then her sister.

You can’t save everyone. I know that. Believe me, I get that. But forget about everyone, I can’t save anyone.

They finally let us in to see him. Only one at a time, though, the nurse tells us. And ten minutes at the most. He needs rest.

I stand in the doorway, just watching his eyes flutter in his sleep. I probably waste two or three of my minutes just watching.

“Go play,” he says, softly.

I step into the room, walk beside his bed. His legs are nearly too long, his feet glancing the footboard.

“Play what,” I say. “What do you want me to play?”

Franny’s chest is wrapped tightly in gauze, and there’s a long skinny tube snaking out from the dressing, feeding what looks like blood down into a clear, fist-size bulb; must be the collection drain the surgeon mentioned. Franny shakes his head, groans like it hurts.

“Not play,” he says. “Go away.”

He doesn’t open his eyes.

Of course he doesn’t want me here. He wouldn’t be here if not for me. I stand there, my brain scrolling for the right words to say, but no search results found.

“I’ll leave, Franny,” I say. “But I promise you, I’m not going away.”





Break It Up, Everybody. Party’s Over.


Mom and Dad decide to reschedule their anniversary party, because how can you celebrate when you don’t have all your family there, Mom reasons.

I don’t mention that Franny might not have come, anyway.

I decide not to remind everyone that he hates my guts. Because that’s inconsequential. I just want him to be okay, whether he hates me forever or not.

We still open our bottle of wine.

And it’s easy to tell that we’re all distracted. But we push through. We put on semibrave faces. “It’s just not the same, you know,” Dad says, pouring another glass.

And he’s right.

We all know.

And more than anything, I want another chance.

One more reset to undo this tragedy.

Only I can’t count on some magic that I don’t even understand.

Not this time.

Not when this could be the last time.

And what if this is what I have to live with, for the rest of my life?

Knowing that because of me, maybe Kate lives, but Franny dies?

What if I traded Franny for Kate, without even knowing?

How could I live with that?

So I excuse myself, head up to my room, and close the door. I bring the alarm clock that’s on my desk and set it on the foot of my bed and I stare and I stare and I stare.

And I wait.

Just before one o’clock in the morning I dial into my phone.

The operator tells me that Kate is indeed in the hospital, only it’s after-hours and she cannot transfer me to her room.

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I’ll try her again later.”

I slip out the back stairs, around the house, and into my dad’s car.

The highway’s deserted. It feels like I’m the only one awake tonight. I pull into the parking lot and try the front door. Locked, of course. But it doesn’t matter. Not tonight. I walk around to the side of the building where the office is. I toss a rock through the window. Alarms sound like crazy, but I ignore them. I climb into the window and walk into the cooler. There are boxes upon boxes, and I’m not sure which one to grab, so I take them all, setting them one by one out the broken window. I pull Dad’s car closer and load them into the trunk.

Two minutes later I’m turning onto the highway as three police cars, sirens screaming, lights pounding against the foggy night, zoom past me.

A cruiser’s parked beside the door, but I don’t care.

I hurry through the door and crash into a human wall.

“I got him,” the officer mumbles into the walkie holstered on his shoulder. “Back outside, you,” he orders me, pushing open the door, his other hand hugging his gun grip. “Come on. Let’s go.”

And I’ve failed.

It doesn’t matter what I do, what I try—definitely not what I want—everything is doomed from the start.

Franny’s hurt.

Kate’s dying.

I broke into Dr. Sowunmi’s office, and for what?

To come up short, again. Again.

I try to push past the officer and bolt for the stairs but his grip just tightens. “Don’t make me lay you out,” he barks.