Then he left to get ready for the second half. I wanted to be mad at him, but how could I? This wasn’t his fault. He had no idea what was at stake. And as for my father—did this side of him exist in my old world? Manipulative and self-serving? In my world his life was all bitter regret. He saw himself as a failure, yet he was a kind man. A good man. A man who was home every night to be with his family. I didn’t like the person success had made my father. I much preferred the “failure.”

The third quarter saw two more touchdowns for us, and one more field goal for the Storks that bounced off the goalpost in the right direction to give them three sorry points. The score was thirty-four, Demons; six, Storks; zero, me.

I made one final plea to the coach.

“One play, that’s all I ask!” I begged. “I’ve learned my lesson. Please don’t humiliate me by not putting me in at all.”

“Just sit down and wait,” he said. And so I did. I waited through one more T-ville touchdown. I waited through play after successful play that made Layton look like a god, and the only consolation was that he’d end the game in a good mood and would have nothing to take out on Katie.

Then at the two-minute warning, the coach put me in. Not as nose tackle, but as right end. That was fine with me. It was on the line, and that’s all that mattered. I had one chance to do this, and one chance only. I couldn’t screw this up.

The ball was snapped. I launched forward with worlds—literally worlds—of determination. I crashed through the Storks’ weak offensive line. Their quarterback was fading back for a pass, and I hurled myself at him, screaming. I made contact and—

Wham!

I was sliding. Ice in my arteries. Vertigo making my mind reel.

It was all happening between the smallest fractions of a second, but I stretched it. I made time move sideways instead of forward.

And I saw things I hadn’t seen before.

There was a pit. I was skating around it, always on the verge of losing my balance and falling in. Instinctively I knew if I fell in, that would be the end. Either of me, or of everything, or both.

And around me what I was sensing, it wasn’t as simple as cheeseburgers or emojis. There were pulsating shapeless things fighting for space, making it clear that these realities, all struggling to exist, were in some way alive.