My team left, one by one, waving and saying goodbyes as they jostled each other on the way out. When the last person had left and the door was shut, June turned to me. “Well, that was embarrassing. I wouldn’t have barged in if I’d known you had company.”
I got to see the decor my team had put up unobstructed. It was…a lot. I was grateful, but…I didn’t know what I was feeling.
June followed my eye line and her gaze moved to the posters now stuck on my wall, the balloons tied to chairs, and the signed helmet that now sat on my desk. June looked at every poster, especially the ones with old pictures of me.
“They really love you,” she said. When I didn’t respond, she looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, and felt my chest get tight. My throat felt dry. I tipped my head forward and laid it against June’s chest. She removed my ball cap and smoothed her hand over my scalp. I inhaled and exhaled, focusing on how her touch felt. “It…it just doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
June waited for me to continue, giving me time to put my thoughts into words.
“They’re my teammates, my best friends. I’ve known these people since I was a little kid.” I wrapped my hands into June’s sweater. She was always cold, even when it was hot outside. “But seeing them today and after seeing Banks at Zilker Park…it feels different.Ifeel different. Like maybe we aren’t the same anymore.” I met June’s eyes. “Does that make any sense?” My head was still a bit all over the place.
“Of course it does,” she said and rubbed her thumb soothingly along my cheek. “Because you’renotthe same anymore. As much as we wish we were, it’s impossible to be. We’re here, fighting for our lives, and they are back home, lives unchanged. No one is at fault or to blame, but our realities are so vastly different, there must be some kind of distance there now.”
“There’s not with you,” I said, and held on to her tighter. June was my lifeline.
She smiled. “That’s because we’re bonded by group two and membership in the Chemo Club. We’re exclusive like that.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “I’m meant to be the joker, Junebug.”
“Meh,” she said. “I have my moments. Especially when you’re down.”
“I’m so friggin’ happy I met you,” I said and took her hand, kissing her palm.
“In which universe? This one or our happily-ever-after one?” she teased.
“Both,” I said, meaning it 100 percent. “In any universe or lifetime, for no matter how long.”
June stepped back and, still holding my hand, pulled on me. “Let’s go and see your teammates. They came a long way to see you. It’d be rude to leave them waiting any longer.”
“You’re staying with me, yeah?” I said.
“Always,” she said and led me to the courtyard. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
Forever then, I thought as we stepped outside.
Forever.
A few hours later, I waved to my teammates, Coach, and friends as the bus left the ranch and disappeared down the road. The smell of the grill’s smoke still permeated the air.
June’s arm was around my waist, and she laid her head on my chest. “Let’s go back to our rooms,” she said, but I knew she meant for us to go back to the egg chair. The night was warm, the sky was darkening, and the stars were beginning to awake.
I kissed her at her door. “I’ll see you outside soon.”
June nodded and ducked into her room to take her nighttime meds and change into her pajamas. I did the same, swiping the Polaroid Michaels had given me off my bedside table.
It was of me and June, hand in hand, smiling at each other. He’d brought the camera to get some pictures of us all and hadmade another poster of the pictures for me before they left. The cheerleaders put it in my room, but Michaels had handed me this privately as I’d said goodbye to him alone.
“She makes you happy, man,” he said. Then his smile had dropped. “You’re not doing good, are you?”
I clung on to the picture of me and June and shook my head. Michaels breathed out a long sigh and I caught his bottom lip wobbling. I put my hand on his arm. “You’ve been a good friend to me. I miss you, man.”
“No goodbyes, remember,” he said, voice cracking. Since I’d gotten cancer, it had become my thing. I hated goodbyes. They always felt so final.
“No goodbyes,” I repeated.
“Michaels!” Coach called out. “We need to get going, kid.” Coach’s eyes were sad when he looked at me and I didn’t think I could take much more.
