45 Seconds

Hey, Tanner. It’s me again. Just checking in; I’ll try to keep it short.

Was really missing you at our last game. Tony can't catch for shit. Coach even asked him if he needed glasses, was genuinely worried about his depth perception being off or something. He's a helluva runner, it's why we wanted him, but man does he fumble hard. Got so frustrated watching him I almost slipped up and said that word again. You know, the one you always told me not to call people.

I, uh, don't talk like that no more. In case you were wondering. Made a decision, back when everything.yeah.

Think I left a lotta stuff behind that day.

.Sorry, uh.allergies, you know how it is. Got me thinking about the first time we met, back in September of fifth grade. I was out front of the school shooting hoops, and you came up and tried to give me this yellow flower. Chrysanthemum. I only know that because you told me what it was called. You said it meant happiness and friendship. I said it meant you were a.I dunno. I don't think I knew the word back then, but I probably would've said it if I did.

I guess that was pretty much our whole relationship until you joined the team in freshman year, huh?

We were okay after that, though. I mean, you were just one of the guys. We all.I thought of you as a friend, even if I was a hardass to you when I really didn't have to be. It's just a game. But it's kind of more than that, isn't it? I mean, remember when you caught that pass I threw crooked during the last few seconds of that match against Hamilton West?

It had been raining on and off all day, and the field was so muddy you couldn't tell the color of anyone's shoes. It was a home game, almost tied, and it all came down to that last play in overtime. Everyone was tired, even the crowd was tired, but they still screamed themselves hoarse for us. Verona MacKenzie was holding up that giant sign. I don't even remember what it said, but I just remember seeing that and feeling like we had something to fight for.

But I blew that last pass. Soon as that ball left my hands, I knew. Could say it was the rain screwing with my grip, but I think I just got too confident. I remember watching that ball spiral like it was slow-mo, knowing I threw it wrong and it would miss you by a mile. I remember thinking that was it; I lost the game for us.

And then you—you crazy son of a bitch, you ran upfield for my awful pass. It's like you never doubted me, never doubted my pass, just rolled with it 'cause we had a game to win. And we did. You caught that awful, screwball pass and ran it back down the field. I saw you go around Hamilton's defense—he used the mud to glide right by them like a ghost. Before anybody could even figure out what happened, you were in the end zone.

That moment, when the crowd started roaring and stamping in the stands, and we all ran down the field to throw our arms around you, I hope you felt what I did. I hope you felt so happy you thought your chest might burst. I hope you felt like a titan, like the king of the whole damn world. I think you did. You were grinning so big, I bet they saw it on Mars.

Yeah. That was a good night.

Couldn’t last, though, could it? No good thing ever does. Guess you’d know that more than anyone.

I don't remember where I heard the rumor first. Funny how that works, isn't it? We all just kind of collectively started joking about it. And you laughed along with us—of course you did. You didn't want to look too serious about it. It should have stopped there. I should have—I should have said something. When people outside the team picked it up, I should have stepped in.

I dream about it, sometimes. That moment in the cafeteria. I think you tapped Henry on the shoulder or something, 'cause you wanted him to move over. And he yelled at you, said those things in front of the whole school.

I think he—I don't think Henry meant to say it so loud. Or— No, that doesn't really matter, does it?

People started to laugh, and—God, you looked scared. Hurt. Angry. You just stood there with your red plastic tray like there was this awful spotlight on you. Your knuckles were white as milk. I don't know what was going through your head, but you looked just the way you did all those years ago when I knocked that chrysanthemum flower out of your hand.

In my dream, I always get up. I yell at them, the whole crowd. I say, what's wrong with all of you? Or I just grab your shoulder sometime and we leave together. Once, I think I had a dream I punched Henry in the mouth and told him to get over himself.

I wish I'd done any of those things. I wish I'd known, back then. I could have, if I'd just taken a moment to think. But I didn't.

I sat on my ass and laughed at you.

Everything went downhill so fast from there. I wish I would have done.anything, really. Talked to you, stood up for you, asked where your head was at.