Snatched

I notice the bottle of pre-natal vitamins we’d bought only two days before moving around the apartment, like she’s picking them up, setting them down, over and over and over.

Finn provides a myriad of distractions— some scandalous, some not so much, some for me, some for Mandy. He cleans out the fridge— literally, cleans it out, including wiping out all the drawers— one afternoon, before his practice, and throws nearly everything away. I’m about to get spiky over the fact that he’d tossed some yogurt that I was pretty sure was still good, but Finn just smiles softly.

“Trust me on this, okay?” he says, and kisses me. A few hours later, after Finn is gone, Mandy comes home. She opens the fridge and, after staring in confusion for a moment, lets out a long sigh.

“Finn did it,” I say.

“Really? It looks amazing. It looks…new,” she says, though I can tell new isn’t really the word she was going for. From the expression on her face, though, I think I understand. Everything in the fridge is something she bought while she and Bradley were together, or has a date on it that she thought she and Bradley would reach, or is in some way a product that she’s suppose to consume despite the fact that it, essentially, was created in another lifetime. Now, everything she buys will be new. From this lifetime.

We order Chinese food instead, and it’s amazing.

Most amazing, however, is what happens on Saturday, at the game.

Finn gets Mandy and I tickets in the friends and family section, which means we’re practically sitting right on the field. The marching band plays the fight song as the team charges in, and after the coin flip the big screens begin playing a video of players answering the “who are you playing for” question they ask before every game. Finn, is up first; seeing his face on the screen makes me smile.

“He’d better say you this time,” Mandy jokes, elbowing me in the side.

“No kidding,” I laugh.

Finn speaks. “Today I’m playing for a friend who is really going through a rough time, dealing with a common medical issue that’s having a big effect on his life.”

I frown. Mandy turns to me. “Is he talking about me miscarrying?”

“No, Finn said ‘he’,” I say, shaking my head. I look down at the field; Finn is grinning wickedly. “Who did he—”

The second player who appears on the screen says more or less the same thing, as does the next, and the next. In fact, Adams is the only one featured who doesn’t say that he’s playing for a friend’s illness.

I press my lips together— have I been so involved with Mandy that I missed one of Finn’s friends going through something serious? I worry about it for the entire game and, based on the headlines I’m seeing on my phone, so does the media. Everyone’s trying to figure it out, and no one can.

Until after the game.

“Holy shit. Holy holy holy shit,” Mandy says, spinning around in the student center parking lot, where half the stadium lets out. “Did you tell him to do this?”

“No! I told him not to get in a fist fight with Bradley. And then we both told him we’d be cool with him getting revenge on him. Holy shit,” I say, spinning around right alongside her.

There are posters on the windows. Fliers being handed out by students. There’s even a banner stretched over the entrance to the student center. They all say, GONORRHEA CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE.

Beside a picture of Bradley. It looks like the one from the rowing team’s website.

“We’re just trying to raise awareness,” a sweet, elfin-faced girl says, thrusting a flier into my hands. I take it, eyes wide.

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t have gonorrhea,” Mandy says, shaking her head.

“Tell that to them,” I say, motioning at the crowd. I see cameras from the local news station capturing the moment, interviewing a girl from Harton’s dance team.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised they all said they’re playing for him,” the girl says sweetly into the camera. “He’s often at the Football House events. They seem to really care about this guy.”

“And did you know he was suffering from an STD?” The reporter asks, whipping the mic back to her mouth for a second, then shoving it toward the dance girl again.

“Oh, no. I had no idea. Which…I think it’s pretty brave of Bradley to come forward and be the face of this, you know? But also, some of my friends are really upset right now. By not telling anyone, he might have infected a lot of people…”

“Well, just another reason to make sure you’re using protection,” the reporter says, clearly nervous about the direction the conversation has gone. She throws it back to the studio, and the dancer goes springing off into the crowd.