Opposite of Always(94)

“Jack,” Kate says, turning to me, her hand clasping mine, her body turned to walk us both out from behind the exam room curtain, back through the ER waiting room, and back out into the cold, dark night. “Let’s go.”

Now there are tears in my eyes that I can’t do anything about, least of all stop them. “I can’t go. We can’t go, Kate. Please. Listen to me. I’m not crazy.”

“I know you aren’t. But I don’t understand any of this.”

“I wish I could explain how I know . . .”

“How do you know?”

I look over, the nurse’s face as hard as rock, her arms still crossed. “I can’t say . . . I’m sorry . . . But I can’t.”

“Well, then I’m afraid you’re out of time, young man,” the nurse says, calling out into the hallway for help.

And I’m going to fail again.

I’ve exhausted every option.

Maybe I just have to accept the truth. That there’s nothing I can do to change anything.

Except I refuse to believe that.

“Jack, what are you doing?” Kate asks.

“Whatever I have to,” I tell her.

“Security, security,” the nurse yells into the corridor.

I won’t be stopped.

“Jack, what are you doing?” Kate asks again. “I don’t understand.”

“Trust me, I don’t either. But we’ve got to try anyway.”

By the time two security guards show up, I’m barricading the exam room with all the hospital equipment that I can move: IV poles, cardiac monitors, an ultrasound machine. But the larger of the two guards forces his way inside, lifts me off my feet, and carries me out into the hallway. I reach for the curtain. “Let go of that,” he says, trying to bat away my hand.

His partner, a wiry, gray-haired man, seems less eager to engage me. He instead talks into his radio and remains on the sidelines. Maybe because at this point I have officially lost all my I’m not crazy credibility, I scream, “They’re trying to kill me!” and flail and karate chop and contort my body into pretzel-like configurations. Because I don’t care what people think of me. What happens to me. I’ll do anything to keep Kate here, to keep Kate safe.

By the time Laird (I have an awesome up-close view of his name badge as he bear-hugs me into submission) wrestles me into the waiting room hallway, Kate starts having trouble breathing. They stick an IV in her, hook her up to fluids and oxygen, check her vitals again, get labs drawn. They march me into the waiting area. An hour later the doctor comes out, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you knew, but you might’ve saved her life.”

I glance at the waiting area clock.

“Not yet I haven’t,” I say. “Not yet.”

The doctor frowns. “Well, we’ve moved her into an observation room. We want to keep her overnight. Make sure her hemoglobin remains stable. We’ll draw some more blood in the morning. You can see her now.”

I thank the doctor, resist the urge to check out the time again, and head back to Kate’s room. She looks over at me, standing in the doorway, and grins.

“Hey, Incredible Hulk,” she says, pushing the button on her bed to make her raise her head. “Or are you back to Bruce Banner now?”

I laugh. “How are you?”

“Mmm. Better now. I think. But then again, I didn’t even know I wasn’t okay before. But somehow you did.”

“Lucky guess.”

“It didn’t seem like a guess.”

“You want to know the truth?”

“That would be pretty cool.”

“I’m from the future and I knew the exact time when you were going to get sick.”

“Okay, this is definitely a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“You want to know how I know it’s a lie?”

“Okay, but it’s not a lie.”

“Because who would care about what happens to me enough to send you back in time? Like, what’s so special about me? Am I going to be president of the United States? Or cure cancer? Or, I don’t know . . . do anything important?”

I shrug again. “Honestly, I never made it that far into the future. So I guess we’ll have to find out together.”

She wiggles her fingers, holds out her arms, and I step into them.

“Promise?” she asks.

“Depends. What am I promising?”

“That we’ll find out. Together.”

“Either that, or I’ll keep coming back in time until I get it right.”

“You’d do that for me?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

She sticks out her tongue at me. “Well, I’d build a time machine for you, mister. Now get in bed and cuddle me.”

“This bed is barely big enough for one person,” I complain, but I’m already climbing in. “You know the nurse is going to curse me out as soon as she comes into the room, right? I’m pretty sure everyone that works here hates me now.”

“Ask me if I care.”

I smile.

“No, really, ask me,” she insists.

“Kate, do you care?”

“Hell no. Now ask me if I hate you.”