The balance between taking risks and suffering potential consequences largely rules the lives of the novel’s main characters. Stella and Will’s romance is defined by their longing, yet inability, to be physically close. They both know that if they get within six feet of each other they risk transferring Will’s bacterial infection to Stella, which would cost Stella her life. Despite this harrowing reality, they each decide, on various occasions, to cross the six-foot boundary. At first, Stella refuses to take any risks that might endanger her. But after she survives a life-threatening surgery, Stella decides to “steal” one foot of space back from everything cystic fibrosis has taken from her, and she and Will only stay five feet apart instead of the recommended six. Stella and Will both deem this risk worth the consequences—it may be slightly more likely that Stella will contract Will’s infection from this closer distance, but they are both happier to be in closer proximity to each other.
On another occasion, Stella takes a risk by planning a surprise party for Will, against the hospital rules. The party is so fun that it is worth the risk for everyone who attends, even though nurse Barb ends up catching and punishing them. Stella and Will push the boundaries of how close they should be from each other many times, but they draw the line when Stella gets a lung transplant, and being near Will becomes even riskier. For the sake of Stella’s health, Will decides to cut their contact entirely. This decision comes with its own set of consequences—Stella and Will trade the fear of getting caught, or Stella getting sick, for the emotional devastation of losing each other. Every risk has consequences, but, the novel suggests, some risks are worth taking if the potential for human closeness outweighs the potential cost.
Risk and Consequences ThemeTracker
Risk and Consequences Quotes in Five Feet Apart
“Lighten up, Stella,” I say, sauntering to the door. “It’s just life. It’ll be over before we know it.”
But walking around the hospital without a mask on? It’s no wonder he got it in the first place, pulling stunts like that. I’ve seen his type in the hospital more times than I can count. The careless, Braveheart type, rebelling in a desperate attempt to defy their diagnosis before it all comes to an end.
Probably because for the first time in eight months, I’m a car ride away from home. Home. Where Hope and Jason are. Where my old classmates are slowly chugging their way to finals, shooting for whatever Ivy League school their parents selected for them. Where my bedroom, my freaking life, really, sits empty and unlived in.
Cystic fibrosis will steal no more from me. From now on, I am the thief.
“She’d make a wish and she’d never, ever tell me what it was. She used to joke that if she said it out loud, it would never come true.” The tiny pinpoints of light twinkle in the distance, calling out to me, as if Abby is out there now. “But I knew. She wished for new lungs for me.”
“I never even hugged him. Never. Don’t touch! Don’t stand too close. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” I scream out, hysterical, coughing, dizzy. “He was my best friend and I never hugged him.” And I never will. The feeling is so horribly familiar, I can’t stand it.
We need that touch from the one we love, almost as much as we need air to breathe. I never understood the importance of touch, his touch…until I couldn’t have it.