In the Blink of an Eye
Chapter One
"Faster!" Tinsley screamed as we lagged behind the other two vehicles. Drago was in front--his Ford F-250 roaring down the highway at over 100 mph--with Jake right on his tail, driving his Cadillac Escalade at top speed to stay close behind. We were in Romeo's Honda Civic, barely able to keep the others in view.
"I'm flooring it, Tinsley!" Romeo shouted back. He was the only one of us to have a car, so it was unfair to give him shit about it, but his car really did suck.
"Can't you downshift or something?" Tinsley retorted in a snotty tone. I couldn't help it and started to laugh. Emma giggled with me and soon we were all laughing--except Romeo. I swear we wouldn't hang out with him if he didn't have a car. He has no sense of humor.
"Fuck you guys," he muttered, finally gaining on the two cars in front of us. Suddenly there was a flash of headlights coming from the other direction. A semi appeared out of nowhere right as Jake pulled into the oncoming lane to pass Drago. He jerked back over into our lane but he clipped Drago's back bumper and spun out of control. Drago struggled to keep his car from spiraling off road.
"Fuck! Hold on!" Romeo shouted as he slammed on the brakes. The last thing I remember was the force of impact throwing me from the back seat into the windshield. Everything went black.
I couldn't place where I was when I woke up. The room was dim and there were machines with small beads of light appearing out of the darkness all around me. I was on my back, which was weird because I never sleep on my back. I tried to roll over and groaned in pain. I hurt from head to toe and there was an IV in my right arm keeping me from rolling onto my left side. I laid back down. It dawned on me that I was in a hospital. The flash of headlights entered my head and I squeezed my eyes closed trying to block out the memory.
I woke up later when someone came in to take my vitals. The blood pressure cuff strangled my arm. I groaned and opened my eyes. A very startled nurse peered at me closely and then started pressing the call button on my bed.
"Nurse's station," a disembodied voice sounded from a speaker somewhere in the room.
"507 is awake, I repeat, 507 is awake," the nurse announced. She pulled the phone that she wore on a strap around her neck and made a call to tell someone else that `507 is awake'. My room rapidly filled with nurses and eventually doctors who wanted to know every detail of my awakening. I laid there letting them probe and investigate wondering when anyone was going to speak directly to me. Finally, another doctor arrived and everyone parted the way as she entered.
"Mr. Jacobs, it's very good to see you awake," she said.
"Hi," I said back, not really sure how to respond to that. How long had I been out?
"I'm Dr. Saturni, your brain surgeon. Can you tell me your name?" she asked, taking out a pen light and shining it in my eyes from left to right.
"Well, you just called me Mr. Jacobs, so I'm going to take a wild guess and say that my name is Mr. Jacobs," I said grinning at the doctor. She didn't look amused. I guess this wasn't the time for my brand of humor.
"And your first name?" she said in a serious tone.
"Alvin," I said simply. I didn't want to piss her off any more than I had already.
"Do you know today's date?" she said briskly. She was now feeling my neck with hands as cold as ice. I flinched as she pressed hard on a very painful spot in the back.
"Ow," I replied and she moved on to press down my shoulders and upper arms. "I'm not exactly sure, it was Saturday the last time I remember," I finally said, still cringing as she managed to press into every aching sore spot on my body.
"It's now Thursday, Mr. Jacobs," she said as she leaned in and peered under the bandage on my head. She turned to a nurse and started asking questions about my bandages. Finally, she turned back to me.
"I'll send your parents in and they can fill you in on what's happened. Just know that you are very lucky to be alive. Some of your friends weren't so lucky," the doctor turned and exited the room and everyone remaining seemingly let out their breath at the same time.
"She's a bit scary, but she's the best in the business," the nurse closest to me said, as she removed my head bandage and started cleaning my wound. I held still while she worked and tried to put together what had happened in my mind. Did she say that someone had died? What happened? I have so many questions.
It was nearly an hour later before my parents came in the room. They looked tired and worried. I smiled and my mother leaned in to hug me. As soon as she let go, my dad pulled me into a hug.
"We're glad to see you son," he murmured into my hair. My mother grabbed my hand and started praying.
"Dear Lord in Heaven, we thank you for your many blessings and the wonderful miracle of bringing our Alvin back to us. Please bless him with a fast and painless recovery and with minimal scarring," she began. I thought she was done, but she continued on about how Jesus was born, died on the cross for our sins and rose again, and then went on some more about how we put our trust in Him...it was never ending. Finally, she said, "and we all said, amen," and she hugged me again. I mumbled "amen" and looked at my father questioningly. He mouthed, "we need to talk," to me. I nodded slightly around my mother's embrace.
"Oh, Alvin, we've been so worried, but the Lord told me that you would wake up and I trusted Him. Now you're awake again and everything is going to be okay," she blurted out and started to cry. "My church group prayed for you every day," she said with tears running down her cheeks. Now, it may not seem all that strange to have someone praying over you in a hospital bed, especially after the doctor mentioned something about being lucky to be alive. But I've never heard my mother pray before. Maybe at like Thanksgiving or Easter. I've never even stepped foot inside a church except when one of my cousins got married two years ago in a big Catholic cathedral in Denver. It was super weird to hear my mother take on such a religious persona. I set that aside for the moment because I had a lot of other questions I wanted answered.
"That's good to hear, Mom," I said, squeezing her hand. "What happened?" I asked looking from her to my dad. My mom started crying again.
"Beth, why don't you go to the ladies' room and run some cool water over your face?" my dad said quietly, pulling her hand away from mine and nodding reassuringly to her.
"Oh, yes, I'll go pull myself together," she said through hiccups brought on by her crying. I was pretty startled by her reaction. Something really bad must have happened for her to be so upset and, well, weird acting. Once she was out of the room, my dad pulled up a chair next to my bed.
"Son, what do you remember? Once I know what you know, I can try and fill in the rest of the details," he said. I described the three cars racing down the highway after prom. We were headed to the after party out at the reservoir. Then the lights of the semi, Jake clipping Drago's bumper, and my head crashing into the windshield. My dad nodded and rubbed his hands together.
"Okay. There are police outside who want to take your statement. I needed to talk to you about what happened beforehand to make sure that the police would have no reason to hold you responsible for anything that happened," he said. I was confused.
"I wasn't driving. It was Drago's fault," I blurted out. I wasn't exactly sure why I blamed Drago, other than my intense dislike of him. "Jake was the one who swerved to miss the semi, but it was Drago that started the race to begin with. Plus, Jake had been drinking earlier and Drago knew that!" I exclaimed.
"Jake had been drinking?" my father asked, now sitting up straight and leaning in to me.
"Yeah, he and Shel did a couple of shots earlier in the evening with the girls," I said, remembering the four of them passing a bottle of Malibu rum back and forth.
"But Drago didn't partake?"
"No, only Jake and Shel and Tinsley and Emma," I said. My dad nodded.
"Okay. I want you to tell the officers what you told me, but don't put any blame on Drago. Don't blame anyone, just stick to facts and not opinions," he said firmly. He turned to go to the door. I rolled my eyes. My dad is being a dick. If I want to express my belief that Drago was at fault, that's my business.
My father returned with two police officers about five minutes later. I explained what happened and did leave out that I thought Drago was at fault, mainly because I was getting tired and the police officers didn't seem to put much worth into what I was saying anyway.
"Yes, we already knew that," was what the one who seemed to be in charge was saying. I wanted to roll my eyes at him, too, but instead I just closed my eyes and laid back into the pillow. My father took my cue and escorted the officers out of the room. I listened to them talking in the hallway outside my room but didn't learn anything new. I was still left in the dark. Was someone really dead? Where were my friends? Was Jake in trouble? I fell into a restless sleep; images of bright headlights blinding me plaguing my rest.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked when I was rather rudely awoken the next morning. The orderly glanced at a clipboard and then went back to adjusting the bed so that it started rolling properly.
"Room 724, you're being moved outta the IC and into a shared room. Insurance, am I right?" he said from somewhere behind me as he started pushing me into the hallway.
"IC?" I asked, trying to understand what he was talking about.
"Yeah, Intensive Care. You've been here for like six days. Insurance won't pay for a single room forever," he said as we rolled onto the elevator. He started talking with a couple of people already on the elevator, so I tried to clear my head. I felt like sleeping some more, but my extreme curiosity kept me awake. I still didn't know what had happened. I hadn't even seen myself in a mirror. I wondered if I was disfigured or something. Why was everyone being so cagey? Was it normal to want to sleep so much? Why can't I stay awake long enough to get answers to my questions?!
We entered a room and before I could see my roommate, the orderly pulled the curtain across the room. Great, more questions. Who am I sharing a room with? How long will I be here?
"Okie dokie, you're all set," the orderly said after hooking me up to a couple of machines and securing my bed. "Here's your remote and this is your call button for the nurse's station," he said in a monotone. Presumably, he's gone through this routine a million times, but it was of little comfort to me.
"Do my parents know where I am?" I asked. The guy looked at me like I was an idiot.
"Of course they do. They'll be here at some point," he said, grabbing the clipboard and walking out of the room before I could ask any more stupid questions. I think I heard him muttering something about morons as he left. Well, it's not like I knew what the fuck was going on around here. Or had just woken up from a major head injury, apparently.
I laid back against the bed and played with the controls until I was moderately comfortable. The TV was already on--some baseball game. That would put me right to sleep. I wasn't much of a sports fan except for football and it isn't close to football season. It is May. We only had a couple of weeks left of school before graduation. Finals were coming up and I hadn't studied for over a week while being in the hospital. I wondered if I would be out of the hospital in time for exams. It seemed like the longer I was awake, the more questions I had. When was anyone going to talk to me--doctors, my parents, hell, even the person in the bed next to me hadn't said a word. I was getting fidgety. I pressed the call button.
"Nurse's station," a voice sounded.
"Uh, yeah, um, when will the doctor be here? Or my parents?" I asked.
"Let's see, you're Mr. Jacobs?" the voice asked.
"Yeah, Alvin Jacobs," I responded.
"Alright, there is a doctor making rounds now and should be in your room in the next hour and I don't know about your parents although they have been informed of your new location," the nurse said quickly. "Is there anything else?" I thought for a moment.
"Can I have something to eat?" I asked, finally realizing that I couldn't remember eating anything since Saturday night at the dinner before prom.
"You'll have to clear that with the doctor first, Mr. Jacobs. Now, unless there's something else?" the nurse asked impatiently.
"Uh, no, I guess I'm okay," I mumbled and I could hear the intercom shut off our connection. Well, that was practically worthless. So, a doctor would be by at some time. Great. I looked around the room for something to keep my mind occupied. I wanted to be awake when the doctor arrived. I had a feeling that if I am asleep I won't get any answers to my questions for quite a while. I wish I had the bed by the window. There wasn't anything to see from here. Maybe I could get the curtain open. And a pad and pen so I could write down my questions. I'm having some trouble remembering things. I called the nurse's station again with my request and about fifteen minutes later a teenage girl came in the room with a spiral notebook and a pen.
"Hi, I'm Liesel and I'm a volunteer. I've brought some stuff for you," she said with an air of importance. Why she thought being a volunteer was so important, I had no idea, but I thanked her for the paper and pen and asked for the curtain to be opened. To my surprise, there was no one in the other bed.
"Could I get moved over to the other side of the room?" I asked. Liesel looked thoughtful and then nodded her head.
"Sure, I'll get Tony to move you over. He's so lazy. He was supposed to put you on the other side already but it's easier to just shove people in the first bed available," she said giggling. She called the nurse's station and we could hear Tony being paged over the intercom. She began clearing the other side of the room.
"You go to Fairview High?" I asked her, desperate for some conversation.
"Oh, no, I go to St. Ignatius Prep," she said now sitting in the chair next to my bed. "We have to do 60 hours of community service each school year, so I come here while my mother is working. She's a surgeon. I think she may have done your surgery," she said.
"I had surgery?" I asked incredulously. Why the fuck didn't I know that? What the hell is going on around here that I am so out of the loop?
"Oh, yes," Liesel said nodding vigorously. "You're very lucky to be alive," she told me. There was that statement again--lucky to be alive.
"What happened to the others?" I asked, suddenly feeling very weak. I had a feeling the answer was so shocking that they weren't telling me for fear I would have some kind of medical emergency. Before she could answer, Tony, the orderly from before, busted in the door.
"Sorry Liesel, I know, I know. I was supposed to put him over here in the first place. It's just that I wanted to get my lunch break in before the cafeteria was packed," he said. He looked to be about fifty pounds overweight, so it was no surprise that his lunch break was more important than doing his job properly.
"It's okay, Tony, don't worry about it. What was for lunch?" she asked, getting up and moving the chair out of the way of the bed. It was like I never asked her a question.
"Lasagna," he said groaning. She groaned, too, and they both laughed.
"That's the worst," she said, still giggling.
"I know. It's like they pile the leftovers from the rest of the week onto some soggy noodles and call it lasagna," he said, now shoving my bed into place.
"Totally," she replied. "I wish it were cheeseburger day," she said while straightening out some cables below my bed.
"Cheeseburgers are my favorite," he said back. I closed my eyes. Screw it. Even if I missed the doctor later, it was worth falling asleep now to miss the inane ramblings of these two geniuses. I heard them chat about the best cheeseburger combinations--truly engaging conversation, I assure you, and then crashed out.
A couple of hours later I woke up with a start when someone was peeling my head bandage away from my forehead.
"Sorry Mr. Jacobs, just need to check on how your surgical scars are healing," the person told me. I blinked my eyes a couple of times and focused better. It was a man in his late 20s with dark hair and blue eyes. He was hot. It had been some time since I'd seen someone around here that was attractive. This guy was more than that. I felt a little tingle down below and suddenly realized that I had a catheter in. That would explain the lack of bathroom visits.
"It's okay," I mumbled, still trying to shake off my sleepiness. I racked my scattered brain trying to remember my questions. I never did get to write them down. I looked and saw the pad and pen sitting on the table across the room. Good place for those things--far out of my reach. I knew that volunteer was a ditz.
"I'm going to shine a light now," the sexy doctor said. I nodded and looked right into his pen light. I blinked about a million times.
"Wow, that's really bright," I said. Geez. I don't think I've strung together an intelligent statement since I woke up yesterday.
"It'll be over quick," he replied, pulling my eyelids up and peering into my eyes. I smiled at him, wishing he would lean in and press his lips against mine. God, I am horny. But, he pulled back and smiled at me.
"All is well, Mr. Jacobs. You're ahead of schedule and that's a good thing," he said. "By the way, I'm Dr. Andrews and I'll be here during the day all weekend. What questions do you have for me?" he said, now prodding at my neck.
"What kind of surgery did I have?" I questioned after thinking for a moment.
"Ah, has no one been in to talk to you before now?" he said, sinking into the chair by my bed. He looked tired as he rubbed his eyes.
"No. I feel like everyone is avoiding me," I said quietly.
"Alright, I wasn't here when you arrived, but I was brought up to date by the surgeon who performed your emergency surgery. You were in a car accident Saturday night. You propelled through the windshield of the car and had glass impacted in your frontal lobe. It was removed and some fluid was drained from around the impact site," he told me.
"Yeah, I remember flying up from the backseat and hitting the windshield, but then everything went dark," I said. I paused, trying to remember what I wanted to ask.
"Are you having trouble with your memory?" he asked as I sat there unable to think of my questions.
"Not exactly. It's like I can't remember the things I want to ask you. I got a pad and paper to write things down, but I fell asleep before I could write anything down. Is that normal? I mean the sleep thing. I can't seem to stay awake," I rambled. Dr. Andrews nodded.
"Yes, you should sleep as much as possible while you're healing. Your body is working overtime to heal all of your contusions and sleep will keep you in healing-mode," he said.
"What about food?" I asked, finally able to remember something I wanted to know.
"We'll take you off the feeding tube tomorrow. We'll take out the catheter then, too," he said, smiling. "How does that sound?"
"Great," I said with a sigh. "Will it hurt? The catheter, I mean?" I asked. I couldn't believe I had something rammed in my cock for all this time.
"Well, not really. You're on some pretty heavy pain medication, so it shouldn't hurt. You may feel some pressure as it's removed, but not pain. The pain medication may also cause some memory loss, so, hopefully as we pull you off of the pain meds, you will feel more like your old self," he said. "Anything else?" he asked, now standing up. He was going to leave if I didn't keep asking questions.
"Uh, how long am I going to be here?" I thought of something as quick as I could. I know I have a ton of questions, but I just can't access them.
"Well, that depends on how you respond to solid foods. If you keep healing quickly, though, I could see you getting out of here before next weekend," he said. Next weekend? Two weeks in the hospital?
"Is there anything I can do to make it go any faster?" I asked. Dr. Andrews laughed.
"Just keep resting and don't do anything to strain yourself. You don't want to reinjure something or get a new injury by forcing yourself," he said, walking toward the door. I frowned as he left the room. He told me that he would be back on the afternoon rounds and then he was gone. Damn. I had brain surgery. Pieces of windshield were packed inside my brain. I wondered if I was considered brain damaged now. No one had done any kind of cognitive testing on me so far. Of course, if I was thinking of words like `cognitive' I probably didn't have much to worry about, but still.
I didn't even realize that I had fallen asleep until I opened my eyes a few hours later and discovered my parents sitting in chairs next to my bed. They were watching the nightly news. Apparently I slept most of the day away.
"Hey," I said and then cleared my throat. I must have been sleeping with my mouth open because my mouth was dry and I could barely speak.
"Alvin," my mother exclaimed and jumped up to get me a glass of water. She put a straw in it and shoved it under my nose. "Drink, drink, son," she said. I kind of got the vibe that she was talking down to me. Like she didn't know if I was with it or not.
"Thanks, Mom," I said after taking a few sips and clearing my throat again.
"How are you doing, boy?" my dad asked from his chair. He looked tired and worried. He glanced at my mom and then back to me.
"Uh, well, I guess I'm okay. Just sore. Kinda having trouble remembering things, but the doctor said that should go away after I get off the pain meds," I said.
"The Lord will help heal you and you'll be as good as new," my mother said, trying to hold my hand around my bandages and different cords and cables attached to my body. "We should pray," she said and broke into another super long prayer about the power of God's love and His healing powers and so on. I was still rather alarmed at my mother's sudden transformation into a Bible-beater, but went along with it nonetheless.
"And we all said, amen," she finally concluded. I mumbled my `amen' and noticed that my dad didn't say anything. He appeared rather angry now, but when he saw me looking at him, he tried to smile.
"You must have a lot of questions, son, maybe we can fill in some of the holes," he said. Finally, someone understood that I still didn't know what the fuck was going on around here. I breathed out heavily and tried to think of my most important question.
"What happened after I hit the windshield?" I finally asked. I realized that I had no memory from that point and it seemed like the right place to start. My mother, of course, began to cry.
"Beth, maybe you should get a cup of tea in the cafeteria and I'll help Alvin get back up to speed," he said to her softly. She nodded, squeezed my hand and walked out of the room.
"She's very fragile right now. That's why I've put up with this religious nonsense. She seems to find some comfort in it, so I've just let her have that. Driving me up the wall, mind you, but whatever makes her happy," my dad said, moving to the chair closer to my bed. "Okay, so you kids were racing down the highway when Jake's car hit Drago's bumper and the two cars started skidding out of control," he paused and looked at me. I nodded.
"Yeah, that's about all I remember, though. Romeo hit the brakes and then my memory is gone," I said.
"When you hit the windshield, which reminds me, why weren't you wearing a seat belt?" he stopped and glared at me.
"I was in the back seat," I said sheepishly. I knew that I should wear a seatbelt, even in the backseat, but it wasn't something we did when riding with other kids. It wasn't cool and that's a totally lame excuse, but it is what it is.
"Son, I've told you..." he started in on me, but I interrupted.
"I know, I know," I said, holding up my hands as if to call a truce. He stopped before giving me a lecture, apparently giving me a break because of the whole brain surgery thing.
"Yes, son, I suppose you do know now," he said sadly. I looked down, not able to meet his eye. What a shitty way to learn that lesson. He continued speaking a few moments later. "Well, Romeo's car slammed into Jake's Escalade and both cars slid into Drago's truck as he tried to gain control. All three vehicles ended up in the ditch on the side of the road. Drago's truck tipped on its side, and Jake's Escalade flipped over. The first responders weren't sure but it appeared to flip at least three times. Romeo's car slammed into the dirt but didn't flip," he told me, seemingly trying to keep his emotions from getting out of control. What wasn't he telling me?
"Wow. That sounds so scary. What happened next?" I prodded, trying not to sound too eager. I was desperate to know what happened, but I didn't want to freak out my dad.
"Son, I'm just going to come out and say this and I don't mean to sound cruel or unfeeling, but I think you can handle the truth," he said and paused, clearly conflicted by what he had to tell me. I nodded encouragingly but I had a feeling of dread deep down inside of me. "I, well," he hemmed and hawed but couldn't bring himself to say what needed to be said.
"What Dad?" I finally blurted out. He looked surprised and a bit angry, but then sighed.
"You and Drago were the only ones to come out of the accident alive," he said in a low voice.
"What?" I nearly shouted. How could that be? Me and, of all fucking people, Drago? "Everyone?" I whispered next, the finality of it all dawning on me.
"Yes, Alvin, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your friends all died in the accident. Drago was thrown from his truck and has some significant injuries, but, like you, survived by the skin of his teeth. Everyone else was either killed upon impact or died before making it to the hospital. The first responders were actually shocked that anyone survived..." he trailed off and I looked down at him and saw a tear running down his cheek. "We didn't know if you were going to make it," he whispered and then stopped talking.
I was stunned. Whatever questions I had before melted away, forgotten or answered by what my dad told me. That's why none of my friends had come to visit--they were dead. That's why no one wanted to tell me what happened--it was so terrible and terrifying that they didn't want to hurt me by telling me what happened. I felt a broad range of emotions in the next few minutes. I am so sad. I will never see Emma and Tinsley before school and have them tease me about my long hair. I will never get to give Romeo shit for that crap car of his. But the sadness quickly turned over to rage.
"Why me, Dad? And why Drago? Why couldn't it have been him instead of Shel?" I wailed, balling my fists and pounding them on the bed beside me. Shel and I had been best friends since sixth grade. He was my first friend in middle school after Drago ditched me for the jock contingency. Drago had made my life hell whenever he got the chance. We'd been best friends since kindergarten and as soon as middle school started, he bailed on me, saying I was nothing but a dirt-head stoner. Shel and I hit it off right away. We both played guitar. We talked about starting a band and trying our luck in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, Drago bulked up and joined the football team as linebacker. He treated me like shit for all those years and now this.
"Son, you can't trade one life for another," my dad said quietly. I knew he was right. Shel had been riding in the front passenger seat. And now he was dead.
"How did they die, though?" I whined, back to the sadness.
"Well, since none of you had seatbelts on, mostly blunt force trauma. The car actually landed on top of Shel when he flew out the window and didn't get back inside in time. Romeo died of internal injuries from being crushed into the steering wheel..." he trailed off again. I had a feeling that he'd seen some graphic details at the scene of the accident.
"And Jake? And the kids in his Escalade? Brian, Marcus...and Patra and Antonio?" I asked, already knowing the answer but holding out some strange hope that someone else made it out alive.
"No, son. The car, well, it was crushed after flipping so many times," my dad said.
"But what about Abraham and Rye? They were in Drago's truck. They must have been okay if he's alive, right?" I kept grasping at straws, but my dad just shook his head.
"No, son," he repeated. "I can really have no way of knowing why only you and Drago will walk away from the crash, but it's the truth. Your mother, well, she's reached out to God and seemingly feels like the answers come from religion. I don't really subscribe to that ideology, but she's found her answers and some comfort from it. She's gone rather overboard with the whole thing. I hope that she backs off a bit once we have some time and space to work these things out," he explained.
"But we were all going to graduate in a couple of weeks and everyone was going to college..." my father just kept shaking his head at me. The only reason we, meaning Shel and Romeo and I were hanging out with Drago and Jake and the jock crowd that night was because we were friends with their girlfriends Tinsley and Emma. Tins and Emm were part of the theater crowd but were also cheerleaders and thus dated football jocks. They were the only people that knew that I am gay besides Shel and Romeo. Now no one knows that I'm gay. I can't even confide in my parents. My dad, although the more tolerant of my parents, is extremely intolerant of homosexuals and my mom is outright bigoted when it comes to `those homos' as she calls us. She doesn't know she's talking about me, of course, but the truth is, I'm gay and she's calling me names when she says stuff like that. And now with her extreme religious stance, I can only imagine it will get worse. Fuck me.
My dad tried saying some comforting bullshit, but really there was nothing all that comforting about it. I felt isolated, alone. Not only were my closest friends dead, but my sexual identity was again trapped inside of me. I'd come out to Shel when we were in seventh grade. He kept asking me leading questions like he knew and wanted me to tell him, so I finally just blurted it out one night when we had a sleepover. He was so cool about it. I really respected him for being such a decent person about the whole thing. He got me on a whole different level. We bonded over telling one another our deepest darkest secrets. His deepest darkest secret was that he made out with his cousin Sara the summer before, so it wasn't quite as life changing as my secret, but it was still something that he didn't want getting out. Later, the secret morphed when they started having sex. I was so jealous. I've never even kissed a guy and here he was, having sex with someone at 14. And she was sexy hot, for a chick. She loved when he would play guitar songs for her. I wish I had someone to play guitar to. Who was going to run off to LA with me now? I guess I'd better get my shit together so I can start school at CU in the fall.
The University of Colorado was the best of the schools I'd gotten into and unfortunately we live close enough that I could live at home. My older brother, Aldon, got into the University of Pennsylvania--my dad's alma mater--and moved across the country two years ago. He is the apple of my parents' eye. He is the smart one, the athletic one, Mr. Personality. I am the shy one, the one who played the wrong kind of guitar music, who did just good enough in school. To a certain extent, I am surprised how much emotion my parents showed after the accident.
When my dad finally stopped talking about how sometimes we don't understand why things happen and that I shouldn't have any remorse about surviving--whatever that's supposed to mean--I finally snapped back to it.
"Hey Dad, can you please bring up my guitar?" I asked. He looked surprised, but agreed. My mom finally reappeared a few minutes later and the two of them headed out to get dinner and go home for the night. I am alone again. I finally have the notepad and pen so I wrote down some more questions. Then I crashed out.