Opposite of Always(95)

“Do you hate me, Kate?”

“No. I’m incapable.”

And I can’t even begin to tell you how good it feels to hear those words.

“Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“If you had a choice, I mean—to live the same four months over and over again with me, or live the rest of your life without me, which would you choose?”

“That’s a weird question. You’re really playing up this time-traveling thing, huh?”

“C’mon, just play along.”

“So, explain it to me. We’d just be like on this never-ending loop then?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a good four-month loop at least?”

“It’s pretty amazing. The best, I’d say.”

She nods. “I like the sound of a Jack and Kate loop.”

I kiss her cheek.

“So, let me ask you something now.”

“Shoot.”

“This is going to sound strange, but I’ve always wanted to be one of those couples whose names get mushed together in a symbol of achingly beautiful love—like Bennifer or Kimye,” she says, a goofy smile on her face.

“Wait, you’re joking, right?” I say.

“Nope. And I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I’ve come up with a few ideas, if you care to hear them.”

“Bring ’em.”

“Okay,” she says, leaning her head back against the pillow. I join her, so that our cheeks touch. “First up, Kack.”

“Hmmmm. I don’t know.”

“I think it’s sort of cool. Sounds like someone just got karate-chopped in the chest.”

“Ouch, I didn’t realize you were so violent.”

She slices through the air with the side of her hand. “You better be careful, King.”

“I think you were supposed to tell me this before I fell for you.”

“Yeah, well, better late than never, right? Okay, you ready for the next one?”

“Hit me.”

“I think you’re going to love this one . . .”

“Look at you, selling me. Just tell me already.”

“Okay, brace yourself . . .”

“I’m braced.”

“Jate.”

“That’s what I was bracing myself for?”

She punches me. “Our names are too short for anything cool. Let’s see you do better.”

I think of the possibilities. “You’re right. Those two are it.”

“I told you.”

“You did.”

“Next time you should just listen to your girlfriend, Jack Attack.”

“Next time,” I repeat. “Next time.”





The Agony, the Horror


I wake up in terror, fumbling with the blankets, the sheets. I look over at the clock on the wall, but it’s too dim in the room, the only light coming from her IV pump, and I can’t make out the time. Kate’s beside me, her back to me. And I can’t explain it, but something feels different. Like I’m on new ground. In an unfamiliar place.

“Kate,” I say softly.

Nothing. Just the buzz of the IV, the chug of fluids flowing into her arm.

“Kate,” I repeat, bringing my hand slowly to her shoulder. Her skin is cool.

“Kate,” I whisper into her ear, shaking her gently.

I listen for her breathing, but I can’t hear anything over my own.

“Kate,” I say once more.

I sit up.

I take a breath.

And that’s when I see it.

A shiny box of Cap’n Crunch sitting atop the hospital tray.

And then I’m crying.

And then I’m laughing.

And then it finally happens— I’m craughing.

I’m craughing.





Almost the End


Okay.

So now that you know Kate and Jack survive, I’ll be honest.

These four replays weren’t the only ones.

They’re more like a composite of a lot of other replays.

I lost count after three dozen.

I still can’t tell you why any of this happened. And even if I knew, it probably wouldn’t be satisfying. It’s like that Sesame Street story, The Monster at the End of This Book. When you read it for a second, third, and fourth time, when you already know it’s only Grover at the end, the journey isn’t any less real, you know?

But what I can tell you is that I tried everything. Some things I tried thrice.

A few times I tried nothing at all.

Sometimes I was too tired, too late, too sad.

It was like enduring the worst hangover ever. Except no matter how much you closed your eyes, or drank water, or begged God to make the world stop spinning, it was still there.

The head-splitting doubt.

The dread slugging me in the gut.

Everything sloshing inside me, sick.

I didn’t think I was going to make it.

And I just couldn’t put you through all of that.

Watching me fail time and time again.

Watching her die over and over.

No one should have to.

But mostly I was just thankful for the time I got to be with her, wondering if and when it (whatever it was) finally stopped, if it would be the end of me, too.