Every Little Piece (24 page)

Dad sends Mom out and then sits where Noah sat. He takes my hand but this feels different.

“Are you up for visitors?”

For the first time, I open my eyes all the way. I blink at the bright fluorescent lights. If Justine were outside he wouldn’t ask like this. He’d check with the doctors to make sure I could handle it. Obviously he’s already done that and now he’s asking for my permission.

“Who?” I ask.

“Seth.”

My heart flutters and nerves coil in my stomach. I can’t even remember why I’m mad at him. I nod and close my eyes.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay long, because you need to sleep.”

Dad leaves and the door shuts. I wrap the end of the sheet around and around my finger. I don’t know what to say and I’m afraid. I close my eyes, waiting.

The door opens and closes. Footsteps whisper across the tiles and the legs of the chair scrape as it’s pulled out and then back close to the bed. I crack an eye. His head bent down, Seth’s black hair is mussed and hides his face. I close my eyes again. The pain meds start taking hold. I battle sleep because I never get this Seth, the one who shares everything with me.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” His words stutter out and his voice is breathy like he ran a marathon. “I have to talk to you.” His deep breath rattles in his throat, before he plunges forward. “I’m sorry about last year. I never came to visit you. I was wrong. I was wrong to run away and not talk to you for a year.”

The rumble of his voice stops. It’s followed by a long silence. I think I fade in and out of sleep because when I wake, he’s still talking. What have I missed?

His voice cracks, and sobs slip out between his words. His hand touches mine, his palm sweaty and shaky. “That’s why I ran and couldn’t face it and wasn’t there for you.”

What? I want to scream because I wasn’t awake to hear him. I try to talk but just mumble. He squeezes my hand again then the pressure loosens. Sleep pulls me under again.

Before I drop off, I hear his last words. “I’m taking care of a few last things and then I’m leaving. This time for good. You can live and love again. Please, Haley.” His voice is desperate. “Don’t live with the guilt anymore. Brin and Kama wouldn’t want this for you and neither do I.”

He might’ve said more, but I wasn’t awake to hear it.

When I wake the pain has dulled and the fuzziness and confusion has faded. Morning light spills in through the window. It’s the next day. I remember my talk with Noah and my family and peace fills me. Seth was here, but his words float in and out my memory like the tide. I turn toward the clock. Truth whams into me. My chest squeezes. It’s the next day. The day.

The memorial service is happening now. My chance to face my past, to face Brin and Kama, and say goodbye. I buzz the nurse.

She slips in with a tray of food and a bright cheery smile. “Ready for a bite.”

I push up in my bed, hiding any flickers of pain. “I need your help. I need to leave.”

Her smile changes to uncertainty and she glances at the door. She seems young with blue eyes and a stylish cut, probably fresh out of nursing school.

“Aren’t I allowed to sign myself out? I’m nineteen.” I remind her.

“You’re supposed to be released later today after the doctor makes his rounds.”

“Please,” I beg. “There’s something I have to do right now. Someplace I need to be.” Even if I’m late I can still say goodbye and say I’m sorry. Maybe they’ll still hear me. And maybe, just maybe, I can start to forgive myself.

The nurse tries to talk me out of it. I interrupt her. “What if while I eat, you tell me exactly what my injuries are.”

She concedes to this and while I shovel applesauce in my mouth, she enters a safety zone and reads off my injuries. Except she starts listing these fancy names.

“In English?” I ask between bites.

“Basically, it’s a miracle you survived. Your body is bruised from the impact, you have lacerations that will heal, and you have a slight concussion. You need to take it easy for a couple days.”

I push the tray away. “So, if I go slow and take it easy, I’m okay to walk around. What if I call a friend to drive me?”

At first, I thought she’d concede, but this new young nurse seems afraid of breaking the rules. Finally, she shakes her head and gives me a firm no. She says she’ll check on me later and she’ll try to get the doctor in to see me first on rounds. Then she leaves.

I reach for my phone and text Justine.

Come get me. Bring the invitation. Please.

I don’t have long. The nurse won’t stay away forever but she also doesn’t expect me to leave. I untie the hospital gown and let it drop to the floor. I gasp. Ugly yellowing and purple bruises stretch along my arms and legs and shoulders where the airbag hit me. My fingers reach for the butterfly bandages that keep the skin closed on the left side of my face where pieces of glass slashed through like I was paper.

The dull ache in my head comes and goes. I grit my teeth and get dressed as fast as I can. I peek out the door and wait for there to be a lull in the activity. The best way to leave is to act normal, like I should be walking away. My heart beats so loud, it’s like an alarm. On shaky legs, I walk down the hall and slip into the stairwell. I lean against the wall and take some deep breaths.

I can do this.

Slowly, I make it down the stairs. With each step I adjust to the dull pain. By the time I reach the main floor I walk through like I’m a visitor. No one studies my face too closely or even thinks I’m escaping.

Justine texts back.

I’m here.

The doors open automatically with a whoosh, and I walk through and into the fresh breeze. Justine sits behind the wheel of her uncle’s truck. She spots me, jumps out, and runs. In two seconds, she’s next to me, holding me gently. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“I’ll pay for the car. Sorry about that.”

She leads me into the front seat. “Don’t worry about it. That ugly thing needed to go a long time ago. But I want to hear everything.”

The envelope, faded and worn now, rests on the front seat. I pick it up and keep it in my hand as I tell her about my visit home and Noah and Tate.

“Wow,” she says. “I can’t believe it.”

I rub the envelope. Out of the corner of my eye, Justine watches, and I tuck the envelope into my back pocket. I don’t know if I’m ready. Doubt seizes me and I panic. “Are you sure I should go?”

Justine doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. You were their best friend. You need to be there.”

I stare out the window. Time to face my mistakes. I have no idea if I’m ready.

I hang at the back of the memorial service. No one will see me. I am a vapor, a breath of wind.

It’s been almost one year. One year of complete hell for all of us. How is it that life is like lightning, choosing when and where to strike, without any warning? The rolls of thunder echo and thick black clouds form in the sky, yet we still think it won’t be us. We walk through the storm unscathed and blameless.

Until it’s us.

Flowers, all kinds of flowers, decorate the front of Kama’s parents’ church. They overflow the stage and the steps and continue into the aisles. The pungent smell turns my stomach, all the different scents mixing together. But what strikes my heart are the poster-sized pictures of Kama and Brin. Their senior pictures. Their bright eyes and smiles reach in and grab my heart and wrench it from my chest.

Classmates trickle in. I see the hugs and the cheek kisses, the smiles. Some are forced but some are genuine after a year of not seeing each other. They laugh and share the news from the past year. I blinked and high school was over. We thought it would go on forever. We thought we’d all graduate and go on to college. I was so sure of everything, of my life, and my relationship with Haley. In a heartbeat that all changed.

Carter and Jamie arrive together, and I shrink farther into the shadows. Luckily, everyone focuses on each other, and they block out the tragic reason they’re all together. They don’t see me. Carter knows. Last year I couldn’t stand that he knew the truth. I ran. I didn’t leave any numbers or addresses, and I never texted back. Eventually they stopped. I owe them an apology, but I’m not sure if the rift between us can be repaired. Some things can’t be fixed.

The room grows more crowded, and it’s harder to pick out the people I know. Teachers sit with former students. Family members mix with the people who barely knew Kama and Brin.

Kama’s parents sit in the front. They don’t mingle but fold their hands and bow their heads. Kama’s mom’s blonde hair causes a twinge in my chest. She’s so much like Kama. It’s as if I could rest my arm over her shoulder, talk to her, and I’d be talking to Kama. Brin’s mom sits next to Kama’s mom. They hug. Her shoulder-length brown hair is straight as a pin and she’s dressed up. I take her in, amazed at the difference.

Brin’s mom was a wreck. Everyone knew that. But this woman is different. She exudes a quiet confidence and acts it. They talk like old friends, hugging and wiping the occasional tear. My throat tightens as I realize that everyone fell apart after the accident, but some have managed to climb from the pit of despair and use it for the better.

I feel the desire to talk to Kama and Brin. Sit down and tell them everything. All the thoughts I’ve been running from. Even if they can’t hear me. I’m about to leave for the graveyard early when she enters.

At first, she stands at the doorway, timid and pale. The sunlight behind her frames her body and she looks like an angel. My heart beats and love floods through me. Justine is at her side and holds her arm. They take a tentative step forward. Haley pulls on Justine’s arm and whispers to her, glancing at the exit.

Justine whispers back, then leads her forward. She keeps pulling her long hair forward as if hoping no one sees her. But they will. And I know our class. No one blames her. I’m glad I told Haley everything in the hospital. Maybe I should’ve waited until she was out of the hospital but I didn’t trust myself. I had to do it while I had the courage to speak the truth. I didn’t even wait for her reaction but left right away. I’ll be gone by tonight.

I can’t keep my eyes off her. She’s thinner and the sparkle in her eyes and the aura of joy she carried with her has faded. Her eyes flick nervously from person to person. Justine kisses her cheek and sends her off into the crowds.

She floats like a lost angel through the people. They smile. They hug her and I know they speak words of encouragement. Tears wet my cheeks but it’s because I’m so happy she’s here. She reached this place, and if my confession had something to do with that then I made the right decision. As she makes her way to the front I can’t keep her in my sight. I inch along the wall, not wanting to draw any attention. I don’t want anyone to see me. I can’t keep my eyes off her. It’s like I’ve been in a desert for years and Haley is my oasis.

I hide behind a pillar and peek around the side. Her fingers twitch nervously and I see her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. She winces when Jamie comes up from behind her and hugs her. She must be bruised and sore, and it takes everything in me not to rush forward and keep anyone from hurting her, even if they don’t realize it. They talk for a few minutes. The whole time Haley is watching Kama and Brin’s parents who are only a few feet away.

Finally, Haley gently hugs him again and stands next to Kama’s parents who are on the outer edge. She doesn’t say a word and doesn’t move to touch their shoulder. My heart squeezes. I want to hold her hand and whisper words of encouragement in her ear. It would be so easy for her to walk away especially since they don’t notice her. She coughs and Kama’s mom turns.

Immediately, she stands and wraps her arms around Haley. It only takes a few minutes before Haley’s body is shaking. Kama’s mom rubs her back and then Kama’s dad is there too and wraps his arms around them both. Haley’s whole body shudders and they don’t let go of her. She has needed this more than anything. A few of our friends notice and whisper.

More tears wet my cheeks. This was so hard for her to do but maybe this means she’s willing to accept the truth that it was me, not her. She can let the guilt float away on the breeze.