Page 72 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

“I kiss good. Drugs are good. Everything is good, isn’t it, Nik? We can all hear you,” he says.

Of course they can hear me. Duh. I’m talking. I roll my head more, my eyes landing on his crotch, and I reach for it.

“Your cock is good,” I say.

“Ohhhhhh kay.” He backs up.

“What? I like it. I. Like. Cock!”

“Nicole Jasmine!” My mom’s voice rings out, and I sober up a touch. But I still laugh.

“Mama,” I say, rolling my head the other way.

She takes my hand, and I think she’s shaking her head, muttering something about me being pregnant before Alex puts a ring on my finger. That won’t happen. Because I’m going to propose. I dreamt it while I was under. Maybe I’m still dreaming it.

I lift my hand and flex my fingers above my face, the pic line dragging along behind.

“Wee ooo,” I say, swirling my hand around like a rollercoaster.

“Okay, maybe let’s . . . can we give her a minute?” Alex seems to be urging people out of the room. I wonder who else is here. I sure hope a doctor is here.

Oh. White coat! That’s the doctor. Good.

“Hi, Nikki. It’s Dr. Singh. You did great. It’s going to take a few more minutes for you to fully wake up, but I want you to know that you did perfect. In a few months we’ll test your hearing again, and I have a really good feeling that you’ll be close to one hundred percent.”

I take his hand and squeeze it, my mind coming to enough to recognize the good news.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice sounding a little less cartoon-like to myself. It’s still very much inside my head, though. Probably from post-op.

“No swimming,” I say to him, pointing.

He chuckles, then looks to Alex. He’s wearing one of his MLB shirts. He got called up last month and he looks so good in Cubbie blue. We love it in Chicago. The winter is like Iowa, but the spring and summer feel more alive. Maybe there are just more people.

I moved here with Alex when he got called up. We were in Iowa City for a while before that. It’s been two years, and this life we’ve started together feels exactly as I imagined it would.

I found studio space last month and got approved for my first business loan. I can’t ever leave Alex now because we both know I don’t know shit about accounting. But I do know music. And after Annabeth’s debut blew up, work started pouring in. I never had to apprentice. And this studio space is long overdue.

Alex and the doctor talk for a few minutes, then shake hands before my love comes back to stand at my side. I decided to give the surgery a try after a full year of intense research. The team at the University of Chicago Medical Center is renowned. And after talking with Dr. Singh, I knew I was ready.

“I might be drunk,” I say to Alex now that we’re alone. Not as drunk as I just was. The sobering is happening fast.

“You are definitely high. But you’re also beautiful.” He sits on the edge of the bed and leans down to kiss my head. I trap him with a palm to his chin and urge his lips to mine for a real kiss. I’m pretty sure I goofed the first one.

I take in a deep breath, a little soreness settling in my ear.

“Ooooo!” I wince.

“Yeah, you’ll get more of the good stuff soon. And then it’s gonna be a rough few days at home. But he says it should heal pretty fast.” Alex’s eyes are so reassuring. It hits me now how awful I must look to him.

“Ugh, I cannot be very pretty right now. You said beautiful, you liar,” I say, feeling the nest on top of my head.

He runs his fingers through it as best he can and chuckles.

“No, still beautiful. Knots and all.”

I squint my eyes.

“So, I was planning on doing this a whole different way. And a few days from now. But since you went ahead and drunkenly proposed to me a few minutes ago in front of your mom, and in front of Omar and Brian, I figure maybe I should scrap the plans.” Alex rests a small yellow box on my chest.

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