18. Corey

Fallon: What’s the last thing that made you smile?

Me: Besides the extra garlic bread I ate tonight?

She doesn’t respond. Our conversations have been mostly light, but something about this question makes me wonder if she’s looking a little deeper.

Me: My sister shared that they’re looking into the process of adopting a child. She’s always wanted to be a mom, and I know she’s going to be the best damn parent. What about you?

The news came as a surprise, considering the other impending news that has me on the edge of my seat, but also not. Anna has always wanted to be a mom, and I have no doubt she and Vic will be amazing parents.

Fallon: That’s big news! Congratulations! Can I ask why they chose adoption?

Me: My sister had leukemia, and the treatments put her organs through hell. They weren’t sure she’d be able to conceive, and she was worried about there being a genetic risk. She actually just had surgery to remove a suspicious lump. That’s why I was in Colorado.

Fallon: Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.

Me: Me too. But she’s tough as nails.

Fallon: Do you want to talk about it?

Me: Right now, I want to know the last thing that made you smile.

Fallon: My dad and youngest brother came by today and installed a crazy lock on my door because they’re paranoid someone might try to break into my dorm. I know that sounds ridiculous, but knowing they care that much made my day. Plus, my dad brought me groceries, and I had the best tomato sandwich for dinner.

Me: Tomato sandwich? Is that a Southern thing?

Fallon: I don’t know. I thought it was an everyone thing. You don’t eat tomato sandwiches?

Me: What’s on it?

Fallon: Tomatoes and mayo.

Me: That’s all? Not even mustard?

Fallon: The trick to a really good tomato sandwich is toasting the bread and rubbing raw garlic over it while it’s still warm. I’m all about the classics, so I stick with mayo, tomato slices, salt, and a little pepper.

Me: I’ve never heard of a tomato sandwich before. Hold. I’m checking Google.

Me: It’s a Southern thing.

Fallon: The best things in life are ??

Me: How has soccer been going?

Fallon: *shrugs*

Me: Is that code for you don’t want to talk about it?

Fallon: What do you order on your pizza?

Me: You really don’t want to talk about it.

Fallon: Not tonight. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have texted you tonight. I’ve been in a weird mood all day. I should go to bed.

Me: Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you texted me.

Me: What has you in a weird mood? Soccer?

Fallon: That’s part of it, but everything being so new just feels so overwhelming. I feel like I should be preparing more, but I’m not even sure how.

I lean forward from where I’m seated on the couch, my muscles constricting, sensing that she’s spiraling and not having a fucking clue how to help.

Me: Why did you change majors?

Fallon: Because passions rarely come with health benefits or dependability.

My thumbs hover over the twenty-six letters on my keyboard that taunt me to come up with something reassuring to tell her.

Fallon: Why did you choose to come to NC for college?

Me: The university I attend has one of the nicest facilities in the country, and I wanted some breathing room from my family. It also helped that a teacher bet me I wouldn’t get in if I didn’t start applying myself. Some teachers are pretty damn good at motivating assholes like me.

Fallon: You were an asshole in high school?

Me: Who said it was past tense?

Fallon: Now might be the appropriate time to ask if you think the world is flat.

I lean back and grin, wanting to needle her. I reuse the line she’d used on me when this all began.

Me: What’s this question worth?

Fallon: Are you stalling?

Me: Meat lovers or Hawaiian are my favorite pizza toppings.

Fallon: Hawaiian is severely underrated. My favorite is veggie, though. My mom’s a vegetarian, and while she never pushed her dietary choices on us, I still eat 90% vegetarian.

Me: Are you close with your mom?

Fallon: My mom’s my rock. What about you?

Me: Yeah.

Me: Kind of

I erase both texts because neither response feels honest.

Me: Not really. We used to be a little closer, but Anna’s diagnosis was really hard on her. I think she blamed herself not only for Anna getting sick but for not catching the symptoms sooner. She became pretty obsessive about everything, hell, we all did.

Fallon: Are you close with your dad?

Me: He handled Anna getting sick by diving into work and never looking up, as though fixing other problems might absolve him from fixing Anna.

I read back my message and wince. After learning about the hell Mila went through as a child at the hand of her mom, and the shit so many other kids experience, complaining about my parents not being around seems like a shitty thing to complain about.

Me: They aren’t bad people. Hell, they’re good people, we just aren’t close. It’s cordial if that makes sense.

Fallon: It does. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.

Me: Anna’s become pretty close to him, and swears things are improving, but I’m not very interested in testing the theory. There are times I close my eyes and still imagine Anna in the hospital, connected to a million wires and machines, so small and pale that she seemed infinitely fragile, like one bad day or cough, and she might break. It makes being here while she goes through this again feel so selfish.

Fallon: You aren’t being selfish. Your caring shows you’re not selfish.

Me: I didn’t mean to bring this up. I’m sorry.

Fallon: No. I like this. I like that you shared this with me. I like how authentic and real it is.

I drag a hand down my face and try to come to grips with what in the hell this is. She wanted a one-night stand without any personal information exchanged, and here I am telling her about the rawest times of my life.

What in the hell are we doing? Where can this go?

Me: Sleep well, Fallon.

Fallon: You, too.

“Ready?” Grey asks, looking at his phone as I step out into the hall. Palmer follows behind me a second later. It’s Friday, which means it’s a conditioning day, and I’m ready for it. I woke up to messages from Fallon detailing how hard it’s been joining a new team and how she’s taking the place of her captain’s best friend—an unforeseen obstacle. She confided how she’s been questioning her decision to leave her old team and everything else behind and then said something that seemed nearly as profound as her admission: We’re always so obsessed with starting and finishing things. That first scoop of peanut butter in a new jar, the first day of school, the first step, and they’re only rivaled by the lasts. Finishing a hard project, completing a book, finalizing a report. I hate beginnings and endings. Why can’t we just find happiness in the middle? Then she told me she had to reschedule our meeting on Saturday due to a team obligation.

I’ve been thinking about what this football season symbolizes for months. This will be the last year I play with my closest friends, and it’s made me realize I fucking hate endings, too. I swallow the complaint about having to get out there with the underclassmen and conditioning. Instead, I nod and feel grateful we have these months remaining, “Let’s go.”

While they bust each other’s balls, I text Fallon.

Me: Name the place and time, and I’ll make it work.