Page 47 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

“No! No, no, Alex. I am not pregnant. Jesus! Have you been talking to my mom?” She laughs at my conclusion, but I’m still trying to dig my heart out from the depths of my throat.

“I have an ear thing going on. Like an infection or something. I got drops,” she says, motioning to a white paper bag on her desk.

“Oh, thank God! Because I’m not sure I can handle another bomb today. Not that you being . . . well . . . you’re not a bomb, just?—”

“Shhh,” she says, pinching my lips closed. She wiggles her other finger at me. “Stop before you make it worse.”

I smile, breaking free from her hand and pressing a kiss to her open palm.

“You said another bomb. What’s the first bomb?” She offers me a bite of her soup, but I shake my head and dive into the extra Fritos.

“Seems the divorce is officially on.”.

Nikki stops eating and turns her body into me.

“Alex, I’m really sorry.” I hold her gaze for a second and see so many memories of both of our families together reflected in her eyes. It was rare that both our dads were together, hers being gone often for his job and mine living on the field at the high school. But when they were, it was always happy. Our households felt like one. And now, it feels like everything is crumbling. And I know part of Nikki feels that too.

She moves her bowl toward me. I take it from her and lean to my side to set it on her desk.

“I’ll get used to it. And I know it’s for the best. I mean, I’m shocked my mom started with the separation part but I don’t really know how a divorce proceeding goes. Maybe she had to go through the steps.” I shrug and wonder in an instant if this is what Nikki and my future will be. I shake the thought away fast, the mere presence of it terrifies me. Not the marrying her part but the separating stuff.

“I’m sure your mom did what was best for her and is doing what is best for you both,” Nikki says, sliding down to rest her head in my lap.

I’ve taken care of her when she’s sick before. But now, she feels more precious. I run my hand through her hair and try to picture the scene in my head, my parents at the county courthouse handing over papers, signing, shaking. So cold and so quick. I’m not sure how long I let my mind wander, but when I look back down to my lap, Nikki’s asleep.

I’m not sure which ear bothers her, but she probably should have put drops in before napping. The least I can do is get things ready for her and make sure she does it as soon as she wakes up. I slip out from under her and replace my leg with one of her pillows so I can unpackage her prescription from student health. The drops seem pretty cut and dried, but the bottle is enormous. When I have an ear infection, I usually get something about the size of a thimble. This thing rivals a travel shampoo.

I read the back, looking for the dosage, but pause on a very specific word—neuroma.

My pulse ratchets up. I reach for the bag again, holding it upside down and emptying the contents onto her desk. There’s a stack of papers folded in half, so I start there. The first page looks like her discharge paperwork, and I see that word again. I pull my phone out and search the term, relieved when it comes up with another key word—benign. My heart slows again, but I’m still on edge as I read.

It's in her ear, and it causes vertigo, which makes sense. She’s had a few issues with that lately, and she’s also had some headaches. All of it feels digestible, and then I flip to the next page.

This is her bomb. A bomb of her own. That she was going to hold on to and protect and who knows what else—ignore, maybe? My eyes scan the header on the page.

HEARING LOSS FROM ACOUSTIC NEUROMA

I stumble back a step but catch myself before making a sound. I pull her chair out slowly from under her desk and continue reading. There’s a lot of pages about surgery, and then a whole list of referrals. When I’m done, I fold the papers back as they were and tuck them inside her bag. I’ve broken about a million HIPAA laws, I’m sure, but how could I not? It’s Nikki. It’s Nikki’s dream.

It's . . . it’s Nikki.

15

nikki

I know I’ve been quiet. I’m sure Alex senses it. Even before we became more, he could read me better than most. Better than all. I’m just not sure how to talk about it. It’s all so much. It’s more than a diagnosis from a visit to the student health center. It’s life-altering. At least, it is for me. And Alex, he’s got a game today. We’re getting ready to leave, and I’m sitting here in his room like a miserable lump while he packs his gear.

“You ready?” He lifts my chin from my phone screen and I snap out of my daze at the sight of his eyes. His dimple. Ah, that get out of jail free card.

“Yeah, sorry. I was . . . spacing,” I admit.

Really, I was searching for answers. Not about surgery, but about how people like me can still do what I want to do. Surgeries seem to be fifty-fifty. Some people have lost more hearing. Others have corrected the loss that’s already come. Nobody goes back to being perfect, but maybe I wasn’t perfect to begin with. I’m not sure how long this thing has been growing in my ear and changing me, but perhaps I’ve simply gotten used to it. And maybe what I hear isn’t very good after all.

I take Alex’s hand when we leave his house. Cole is already piled in the car, kindly taking the back seat so I can sit up front. That’s something that hasn’t changed. Cole has always pushed Alex and me together in subtle ways. Our moms would love him. Unless . . . oh man, did they get to him? That’s something we’re going to have to ask him when we come out. Which we still need to talk about.

I sigh, once again overwhelmed by my own chaos. There’s so much.

“Hey, Nik.” Cole reaches around from the back seat and hugs me from behind. I squeeze his hands, then glance to my left, where Alex is staring lasers into the rearview mirror.

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