June 14, 2002

"Oh my gosh, you look fantastic."

Men in business suits and moms with jogging strollers rushed by, the sidewalk a flurry of wingtips and ponytails. Manhattan was bristling with action; a world away from sleepy New Hampshire. Amidst it all stood Adam, freshly tanned from a trip to St. Croix the week before, and a smile lighting up his face.

As Julie looked him up and down, she could hardly believe it: He was back. Maybe not in quite his original form, but close enough.

.

The unfortunate realities of Salt Lake were still there, but they'd been...sanded over. Another four months of physical therapy; another four months of obsessing in front of mirrors and hiring personal shoppers who knew how to hide problem areas had done a world of good. The crutch had been traded in for a cane that looked less medical. His faded chinos hugged all of the right places. His hair had been bleached by the sun; his cheeks a ruddy pink.

It was clear that he wasn't going to be heading to any NHL training camps in the future, but he was steadier now. Less disabled, and more like the prom king she remembered. It was easier to see the athlete underneath; easier to forget about the things he couldn't do, and focus in on all that was the same.

.

"Heh, I think you're a little prettier than I am."

"I don't know. I'm not the one who always had Brittany and Erica stalking me..."

"First of all, I'm not sure that ever counted in the first place." He laughed, reaching over to hug his first love. "I mean, Brian McGill ended up breaking up with Brittany because he wanted someone smarter. That's like getting rejected from the sheltered workshop for not being smart enough. And secondly, I'm thinking that whole 'NHL-prospect' thing was kind of adding to my appeal. Or I mean, maybe it was my great personality, but I'm guessing it was probably the former. Those millions can make any guy look better."

"Dork. Your personality has always been the best part." Julie pointed out, holding him close. Close enough that she could smell the cologne and laundry detergent; close enough that she could feel how soft he was around the middle, and the slight wobbles as he struggled to maintain his balance, but also close enough to think he was just as lovely as he'd ever been.

"It's...definitely an acquired taste."

"Says the guy who everyone likes."

"I don't think I was ever actually popular." He reminded her. "I think people just like, pretended to like me because that was what they thought they were supposed to do or whatever. And that doesn't really count."

Julie shook her head.

"Yeah. That's it."

"What?"

"Let's just say that if everybody was pretending, that was a really involved charade."

"It could have been."

"If it was, Mrs. Albrecht is going to be so pissed. Because our drama department was awful, but apparently Thad was Oscar material."

"Are you saying that our all-white production of Roots wasn't compelling stuff? Because I think Becky Unterrainer really nailed the African experience in a way that no actual black person ever could."

"Seriously." Julie sighed, rolling her eyes. "I just want to know who approved that idea, because I know we're talking about Eden Hall here, but come on now."

"You just answered your own question there."

"Good point."

As they talked, the sun continued beating down; the same layers and long sleeves that helped Adam look presentable also making the heat all the more unbearable. Walking towards his building, he longed to be able to put his arm around the small of her waist as he lead her inside; to feel it when her hand accidentally brushed against his thigh.

He longed to be the guy she remembered; the one who could carry girls across elevator thresholds, and count on his body to fill the gaps between words.

Instead, they just walked into the lobby. Separately. His hair sweaty, and his body no longer a part of hers.

"So how many more days of freedom?" She asked, pressing the button for the elevator.

"Four. Then I get to be Goldman Sachs' slave for the rest of the summer."

"Have you tried talking to Becky about that experience?" Julie laughed, still recalling the infamous drama club performance their sophomore year.

Seriously Mrs. Albrecht. Why?

"I'm guessing that by August, I'll know a lot more about slavery than Becky does."

"A high bar there..."

"She did start the school's first ever Diversity Committee." He smirked, stepping onto the elevator behind Julie.

"Yup. Her and Linda. If that's not diversity, I don't know what is."

"We laugh, but Linda was brunette, and Becky had those red highlights for awhile. That was three different hair colors in one room. I don't know what else you could ask for in terms of diversity..."

"Good point."

"Plus, I think Becky's dad had a trucking company. And while that's not regular-world diverse, it's pretty diverse stuff for Eden Hall."

"Yeah, they're basically a Benetton ad right there."

"Exactly!"

...

Before long, Julie heard the elevator ding, and they arrived on the third floor. Walking down the hall to Apt. 304, she still found herself reveling in the fact that this wasn't Edina. This was the kind of place where people did things; where nobody would think to have Becky Unterrainer play Kunta Kinte. She wanted to join Adam in this magical world; to leave New Hampshire for good, and to start a new life somewhere more exciting. Perhaps with someone like him.

"So how does it feel?" She asked, looking down the dim hallway.

"How does what feel?"

"This. New York."

Adam shrugged, already more interested in the promise of Wall Street than anything about the city itself.

"I'd rather be in Greenwich."

"Village?"

"Connecticut."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I mean, technically, that's a really long list." He chuckled. "But come on. New York smells. And Laura wouldn't let me bring Suge Knight or any of our good plates."

"That is...definitely not something I've heard any normal guy say ever."

"I like good plates. Food tastes better on those nice and blue and white ones, with like, the scenes of the French countryside or whatever."

"You are so weird."

"Blue is my favorite color."

"I give up..."

"So what are you two studs talking about over here?" Connie joked, taking a seat next to her husband as their fellow Ducks chased one another across the ice; Dwayne having found a makeshift lasso in the equipment closet a few minutes before.

"About our glory days."

"Ah yes." She giggled. "I always thought you two hit your peak around twelve. Maybe thirteen. With that nice little scarf you wore everywhere..."

"It was a good look."

"It was fashion-forward." She agreed, taking hold of his hand.

.

She scooted closer, remembering their younger days.

Breathing in the smell of mold and pinewood, her mind took her back to all of those old JV games; to the days when their biggest problem was Thad, or whether Guy paid enough attention to her at some party.

Twenty-six years, and apparently the biggest constant in their relationship had been fighting.

Still, it felt different then.

Back then, things exploded, and then they got better. The resentments didn't linger in the air the way they did now; life didn't feel so stale.

.

"I guarantee some guy on Instagram is wearing that same thing right now, and being rejected by girls exactly the same way you were."

"See? Misguided attempts at getting laid. It's the tale as old as time."

"It really is.

She glanced over at Adam; the Arc'tyrx vest covering his gut the only concession to the passage of the years.

"You should have taken your cues from Adam. He was too busy worrying about hockey to think about things like that. And it's paid off in terms of his wardrobe."

"You want to tell her the bad news, or you want me to?" Guy chuckled, the tips of Adam's ears already turning pink with shame as they talked.

"Yeah, Guy might not have been the only middle school perv..."

"But you never even talked to girls."

"I never said I was a smart perv." Adam clarified, his whole face now matching the championship banners that hung above. "It took me awhile to figure that step out."

"I refuse to believe this."

"He definitely was."

"I think you're just trying to divert the blame." Connie laughed; the color of Adam's cheeks giving the truth away.

"You never had to share a room with Pervy McPervert."

"Hey now."

"It's okay." Guy assured him. "I took advantage of your collection more than once."

"Eww."

"I'm still kind of worried about those Lands' End catalogs, though. It takes a special kind of man to whack it to soccer moms in rugby shirts."

Connie shook her head.

"Okay, this is so much more information than I ever wanted to know."

"Though come to think of it, that would definitely explain Laura..." Guy continued, thinking back to some of the less-conventional material stashed under his old roommate's mattress; a clear preference given to those freshly-scrubbed women modeling rain gear and chino shorts.

"What can I say? I like that 'I go to Great Clips and know how to tie up a boat'-look."

"Worst porno ever..."

"Yeah." Adam agreed. "You start that one off with high hopes, but it ends with a mortgage and two people talking about what to eat for dinner. And like, no nudity at all. Just discussions about dinner."

"Debbie Calculates Depreciation."

June 14, 2002

Walking into the apartment, Julie was greeted with a space that was not Edina in the very best way.

Sunlight filled the space, washing over exposed brick and wood floors. There were no overwrought furnishings or trappings of suburbia to be found; no hulking big screen or entertainment centers crammed with every bro-tastic DVD ever made. No beige. No granite countertops or views of golf courses. It felt like the kind of life that Julie had always imagined for herself-one that despite not being hers, felt right in all of the right ways.

"Okay, I'm officially jealous."

"Why?"

"Because this is incredibly cool. It's like one of the TV shows about New York, but real."

Adam just shook his head.

"I never understood those TV shows. Why aren't those people ever like, doing anything useful."

"Because a TV show about people working at a bank would be really boring?"

"Good point."

"So are you like, excited about everything?" Julie asked, sitting down on the sofa as she motioned for him to take a seat next to her.

Adam joined, pausing for a moment as he looked out the window.

It was an obstructed view, being on the third floor in a neighborhood full of towering buildings, but he could still see a sliver of skyline in the distance. A sliver of what made New York New York.

Finally, he nodded.

"It's a good opportunity."

"Well, I'm...I'm really proud of you."

"Heh, thanks."

"So what do you and Laura want to do this weekend? After all, it's your week of freedom, Kunta Kinte."

"Ha, I know, right? Mrs. Albrecht really missed an opportunity there." He chuckled, longing to scoot closer to Julie; to put his arm around her and cuddle up right there.

.

After all, Laura was lovely, but she could never be his Cat Lady. Life hadn't been the same without his favorite goalie.

.

"Any preferences?"

"Heh, at this point, you know more about New York than I do. "

"Good point."

"But we'll figure something out."

"Sounds good."

"And if you have any requests, just let me know."

"So what are the retirement plans?"

Guy looked down at the ground, staring at a brown splotch along the boards, and the frayed hem of his jeans. He rubbed at the back of his neck, longing to be able to take a job in the oil fields, or maybe with the railroad. Something, anything, so that he could get away.

.

Twenty years, and hockey had always been a great way to avoid having to deal with anything else. The joy had left within a few weeks on varsity, but in its place came a perfect escape. The very soul-killing practices that meant that there was little left also meant there was little left: You made it through another practice, you made it through another game, you made it through another season. Your job was done. Nobody really cared about the rest, because you'd done what you were supposed to do. Maybe you visited a children's hospital for good measure, but even then, nobody cared: It wasn't like cancer kids were that concerned about meeting the fourteenth best guy on a mediocre team.

Now, there was no escape. The day of reckoning had come.

.

"Heh, good question."

"We're talking about moving back to Minnesota."

"Not we." Guy shook his head, refusing to look back up at Connie. "You are."

"Yeah, but..."

"I've already told you I don't want to."

"Yeah, but my mom..."

"I don't care."

"But we bought your mom that condo."

"A down payment on a condo. If your mom's great dream is to live in a one-bedroom with shag carpeting, we can talk. But you don't see me planning my life around her."

"Yeah, but without my dad..."

Guy looked over at Adam.

"Are you planning to move to Chicago to spend more time with Mrs. Fontaine?"

Adam chuckled, Laura's parents possibly two of the only people on Earth who could give his own parents a run for their money.

"Laura looked around and decided I was the least depressing obligation in her life. So uh, no. Probably going to see if we can build some kind of border wall around Illinois to make sure that one never escapes."

"Nice."

"My mom isn't Mrs. Fontaine."

"Yeah." Guy sighed, the reality looming over him that there weren't going to be any more paychecks coming in, but there was going to be a lot more time with his wife and all of her related accessories. "Mrs. Fontaine is pretty well-off. She has more money than we do."

Nothing like Mrs. Moreau to crawl up my case about how her little princess needs to have whatever she wants...

"Jackass."

"I mean, nothing against your mom. You know I love her. I'm just...not really trying to hang out with her at every turn."

"We wouldn't be. I just think that since we have the option, we should be closer to her."

"She has Amber and Lisa."

"Yeah. But still. I worry about her."

"I like Detroit. And Ava's happy."

"Ava's five."

"She has her little pink butterfly bedroom, and the park she likes to play at down the street, and her friends."

Connie looked over Adam, one eyebrow raised.

"Be honest." She asked him. "Caroline's the same age. If you guys moved, would she like, still remember a month later?"

"I hope not." Adam chuckled, brushing a sprig of hair from his eyes. "Our shit sucks. The best hope I've got for any of the kids loving me is for them all be dumber than I am. Right now, she thinks the Mall of America is Disney World, so we're off to a good start..."

"I feel like this is questionable approach."

"Oh don't worry. I vote 'no' every time the public schools want more money, too. I'm hoping for a 'race to the bottom' scenario, where like, everyone grows up to be a dumbass."

"Nice."

"Yeah." Adam shrugged. "No idea how it's working. I mean, the boys are both panning out to be real dipshits, and as far as I can tell, their friends are as dumb as they are. But no idea what it's like over at the public schools. Those kids might be like, doing trigonometry in the first grade or something."

Guy laughed.

"If they are, I'll let Connie move us back to Minnesota."

"If they are, I'm pulling a Billy Madison. I'll start from scratch. Maybe things will turn out a little better the second time around."

"You and me both. We'll dominate the shit out of circle time."

"Fuck yeah. I know my whole alphabet, and I can reach things on the top shelves."

"I'll kick your ass at Duck Duck Goose." Guy reminded him, looking down at Adam's right hand, and the fingers that had long ago curled in on themselves.

"The whole class will. Only way I'm winning there is if we have like, a cerebral palsy kid that I can outrun or something."

"Timmy and Jimmy on South Park?"

"Exactly."

"What if you get put in special ed?"

"Means I'll get to ride the short bus. I'll get home before you."

"Damn. You gotta' point there.

"That's it, Cons. We're going back to kindergarten. You joining?"

"No way." She laughed, looking back at Adam; glimmers of that middle school bully never quite disappearing from his face. "A certain someone was enough of a jerk the first time around, and I didn't even have to go to the same school as him."

"Hey now."

June 15, 2002

"I think you need to stay in the city forever."

Julie looked out amidst the bustle of Central Park; joggers and dog walkers making their way past, as young couples sat under the canopied trees and dreamed of their futures.

It was perfect.

It really was.

Everything about the day; everything about New York was perfect. And frankly, so was this time with Adam. Without him around, life hadn't been the same: He wasn't just her first love, he was her best friend. And she needed him. More than she'd ever fully admitted to herself.

Here, in New York, it was a navigable thing.

She wasn't sure where she would be going to medical school, but she knew she'd be leaving New Hampshire. She'd be moving to the city-either New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia. And all of those would manageable-if he were in New York, weekends together would again be possible. She could have her best friend back. The version of her best friend that she wanted-the version who always looked so pulled together, and did interesting things. Not the version who ate chicken strips at nice restaurants, and hung out with dumb guys like Crawford and Thad.

This was the best version of Adam, and the universe was handing it to her on a silver platter.

"Oh I do, do I?"

"Yes. You do."

"Then I guess we'd better hope that Goldman Sachs agrees."

"They will."

"I hope so."

"Come on. You're Adam Banks." She reminded him. "Of course they will. You succeed at everything."

"Uh, I can think of some pretty noteworthy failures..." He chuckled, looking down at the cane that he still needed to walk; the sliver of leg brace that was peaking out from beneath his khakis.

As far as failures went, that was a noteworthy one, there to remind him every moment of every day that he would never again be as good as other people.

"How is that a failure? You broke your neck. They told you that you'd have to spend the rest of your life having people feed you from your wheelchair. And now you're hanging out in Central Park, obsessing about whether you'll get hired on at Goldman Sachs."

"Yeah, but..."

"Face it." Julie shook her head. " You're kind of great at everything."

"Heh, I wish I were a little more great at everything."

"Nah, your perfect hair and perfect teeth are annoying enough as is."

"My perfect fake teeth?"

"They look real except for when you take them out."

"A big help if I want to pretend I'm a jack-o-lantern."

"Handy for Halloween."

"Yeah, should save me a couple of dollars on pumpkins every year."

"It adds up..."

"That is true. Now I just have to eat a glowstick."

As they continued to joke about his now-detachable teeth, Laura looked over, her brow furrowed with concern when she noticed how flushed his face had grown, his ears now tomato-red.

"Let me know if you need to stop and rest. It's pretty warm out here..."

"Ah, I'm fine." He assured her, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, just be careful."

"Come on, lumlums. You know I'm invincible."

"Yup. Totally the adjective I would have gone with."

"Oh but I am..."

"Well, you're definitely something."

"I am so many things. I'm basically what dreams are made of."

Laura smiled, glancing at the beads of sweat forming near his temples.

"Last week I dreamed that I was being chased through my parents' house by Count Chocula..." She reminded him, reaching over to fix an errant sprig of hair as they walked.

"Okay, I'm not that dream."

"I think you are. I think after I go to bed at night, you get up, and you turn into Count Chocula."

"Damn you." He sighed, looking down at the ground. "You figured out my secret."

"The cape in your closet gave it away."

"I knew it."

"I just hate the you turned to the dark side, peddling sugary cereal. You could have been like The Count from Sesame Street, and used your powers for good."

"I am really good at counting." He agreed, smiling. "But that Sesame Street salary doesn't cut it. Your next Range Rover isn't going to pay for itself."

"But I don't even want a Range Rover."

"Fine. Your next BMW."

"What if I don't want that, either?"

"Well, what do you want? A unicycle?"

Laura paused, realizing that they were talking about something more than cereal spokescharacters.

"I want Count Chocula to do something that makes him happy."

"Heh, Count Chocula just wants to give you the life you would have had otherwise."

"I think Count Chocula cared about that life more than I did." She reminded him. "I just want him to be good, happy Count."

"And the number of the day is one. Because Count Chocula's one goal is to give you all of the things you want. Even if he has to pose on a few cereal boxes to do it."

"Loser."

"Se-"

Just as he turned to Julie to say something else, everything went quiet. He collapsed to the ground, his words hanging in the air.

Julie watched in horror as he fell backwards, his head striking the concrete, bouncing back up, and landing again.

The whole universe stopped as he lay there lifeless; the Earth's rotation temporarily paused. The planets reeled from their axis as she stood there frozen, trying to comprehend the reality in front of her.

Wha-