Opposite of Always(93)

“So, uh, Jack, tell me what your intentions are toward my sister.”

“Easy,” I say. “I intend to be with her for a long, long time.”

And this doesn’t come close to shutting him up. He piles on the I don’t like you liking my sister routine, but it doesn’t bother me so much, because that’s what little brothers are for. I respect him for it.

Franny scores a gazillion points in the playoff game and leads Elytown to victory. He gives his dad his game jersey, and his dad pulls off the T-shirt he’s wearing and slips Franny’s jersey on, half a size too small and sweat-drenched, but he doesn’t take it off or make a face. He struts around the gym, singing, That’s right, that’s my boy to anyone who looks at him. Abuela even shows up on time.

“What,” she says, incredulously. “I’ve been on time before.”

But none of us can remember when.

We all go out to eat to celebrate and somewhere between appetizers and entrees, Franny clinks his glass.

“Attention, family and friends. I have an announcement to make,” he says, standing up. We all look over.

“You are now looking at a Whittier enrollee,” he says, his smile with extra Franny wattage.

Jillian jumps from her seat, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly taking out our appetizers in the process. “Oh my God, are you serious? Baby, I knew you’d get in. I knew it!”

Franny doesn’t get shot, unless you count from Jillian, courtesy of Cupid’s pointy arrow. (I know, I know, so achingly cheesy, but give me a pass here. I’m happy.) Turns out Kate’s sister Kira is pregnant, which excites Franny the most because he envisions lifetime front-row seats at every Mighty Moat concert.

Meanwhile, our band keeps practicing.

My parents’ anniversary party is killer. Kate, Jillian, Franny, and I barely leave each other’s sides. After four summers of practice (condensed into one), I still find a way to flub a few notes in the beginning, but no one seems to notice.

“Mom, are you crying?” I ask, not because it’s not obvious that she is, but to distract everyone from the fact that I’m crying, too.

We share a bottle of wine. We all clean up.

“We’re going to take off now,” Franny says, taking my hand into his and pulling me into a bro hug. Jillian wraps her arms around Kate, and then turns to kiss me on my cheek. “Love you, man,” she says.

“Love you more,” I say.

Kate and I walk them to the driveway, to their car, and we watch them drive off into the starry night.

“You wanna take off, too, or,” I say, letting the or hang there.

“Or,” she says, taking my hand. “Definitely or.”

Kate leans into me on the basement couch, her body warm perfection. We kiss, but she pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“Earth to Jack,” she sings. “Where are you right now?”

I kiss her cheek and hop off the couch.

“Come on,” I say, extending my hand to her. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Where are we going?”

“We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Why are we at the hospital?”

“Because you’re sick, Kate.”

She shakes her head. “I feel fine. Actually, no. I feel better than fine. I feel better than I can remember ever feeling. The treatment is working, Jack.”

“Do you trust me?”

She scrunches her face.

“Just trust me, please.”

The nurse in the ER makes the same what are you talking about face when I explain to her that even though Kate isn’t showing outward signs just yet, she’s going to have a crisis. The nurses and the doctor on duty aren’t buying it. They won’t even run tests.

“We appreciate your concern, young man,” they all say, and you can hear the but coming from a mile away.

“I don’t think that you do. If you truly appreciated my concern, you’d run the tests. You’d keep her here and you’d—”

“Jack, I’m okay,” Kate says not for the first time. “Really, I am.”

But I’m not above pleading. I’m not too proud to beg. “Please, please, just run the tests. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Young man—”

“Please! I have money.”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“I can pay for the tests. I can write you a check right now. I just need a pen.”

“We’re going to have to ask you to leave now.”

“You’re not hearing me! She’s going to die! If you don’t do something, she will die. It’s not a question. It’s not a possibility. It’s reality! It will happen!”

They turn to Kate. “Is your boyfriend currently undergoing any treatment? Are there any medications that he’s been prescribed that he’s stopped taking?”

“He’s not crazy,” Kate insists.

“No one’s saying anyone’s crazy, but—”

“I’m not crazy. I just know because . . .” This is the part where I can tell the truth. I can say I know because I’m from the future. I know because I’ve already lived this. But I know that I can’t tell the truth without landing an overnight suite on the psych ward.