Keep Me in Your Heart (19 page)

All the feelings of annoyance she’d ever held toward him vanished in a wave of tenderness. She put herself in his place and realized she would be frantic if he were on this table instead of her. “I’m all right, Charlie. Honest.”

He touched her tentatively, as if he wasn’t positive she had real form and substance. “Can you come home with us?”

She didn’t answer because a nurse appeared, and her family’s faces receded as they moved aside. “Let me clean up your daughter,” the nurse said kindly. “Take a seat in the waiting room and I’ll tell Dr. Joyce you’re here.”

To Trisha, the cleanup was long and painful. Peering through a magnifying glass, the nurse extracted pieces of broken glass from Trisha’s lip and cheek. Then she cleaned the area with an antiseptic that stung like fire, smoothed on ointment, and placed a soft dressing across the cheek. “It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches on your face. It’s just a bad scrape—you know, like when you were a kid and fell off your bike and skinned your knee. That ever happen to you?”

Trisha sniffed.

“You’re going to have a fat lip for a few days, though. And maybe a black eye. But your face will heal nicely.”

“Do you know about the others from the accident?”

“Not yet,” the nurse said.

“I—I saw one of my friends being taken to X ray, but the others … no one will tell me about the others. Didn’t an ambulance bring them in? You see, one of them is my boyfriend and the other is my best friend.” Just asking about her friends was making Trisha cry.

The nurse patted her shoulder. “Now, now. Calm down. I’ll check with Dr. Joyce for you, all right?”

“They should be here, you know. I mean, they should be if they’re … okay.” She couldn’t bring herself to offer any other explanation.

“I’ll see if Dr. Joyce wants me to give you a little something to calm you,” the nurse said, then left.

Moments later, Dr. Joyce swung the curtain aside. “Good news, Trisha. I’ve looked at your X rays and they look good. That means we can remove the backboard. You wanted that, didn’t you?”

Trisha agreed, and when it was gone, she felt freed from a prison.

“You’re going to be very sore for a few days,” Dr. Joyce said. “You’ll need to keep your knee wrapped for a couple of weeks and you’ll need crutches to get around for a while. Your family doctor can remove the stitches from your head in a week. You’re very lucky.”

“Can I go home?”

“I want to keep you a few more hours for observation. After all, you were knocked unconscious, and we always like to keep a close eye on head injuries. However, I’ll be giving you something to relax you, and that will make the time pass faster.”

“Can my parents stay with me?” She dreaded the thought of being alone—even if she was drugged.

“I’ll send in your mother. There’s really not enough room for everybody.”

The nurse came and stuck a syringe into the IV line; within seconds, Trisha felt light-headed and fuzzy. By the time her mother materialized, Trisha felt as if she were floating off the table. “Mom …,” she mumbled.

“Don’t talk,” her mother said. “Dr. Joyce has
explained everything to us and said that right now, you need your rest.”

“What … time …?”

“It’s two
A.M.
I sent your dad home with Charlie.” Her mother pulled a chair alongside the bed and circled Trisha’s head with her arm. “Trisha, we were all so scared. Thank God you weren’t injured any worse. We talked to the police who were at the scene. They said that it didn’t look like you were wearing your seat belt. Is that true? Didn’t you have it on?”

She flipped through mental pictures. She remembered getting into the car in the Henderson High School parking lot. She’d been upset and angry at Tucker. She remembered sliding into the seat next to Cody. She recalled him putting his arm around her and settling the blanket across their laps. She didn’t remember snapping her seat belt into place. “I—I don’t think so,” she confessed.

“Oh, Trisha, why not?” Her mother’s face had a terrible expression. “You know better.”

It was true. Trisha had taken driver’s ed in school and she’d watched the horrific videos of accident victims who hadn’t worn their seat belts. “P-please don’t be mad at me …”

Her mother sniffed hard. “I’m not mad,
honey, just so scared. Tucker was wearing his belt. That’s why he wasn’t thrown from the car, according to the police. Evidently no one else was wearing a belt. No one. And all of you should have been.”

Trisha recalled being lifted into the ambulance and catching sight of two bodies lying in a ditch. She hadn’t imagined it. The bodies had been Cody’s and Christina’s. She struggled to stay awake just a little bit longer. “Tell me about Cody. Are his parents here too?”

Her mother looked straight into Trisha’s eyes and smoothed her shorn hair, careful not to touch the fresh stitches. “Cody’s been taken to a Chicago hospital.”

“Chicago? B-but why so far away?” Trisha’s thoughts drifted to Labor Day weekend, when she and Christina had ridden the train into the city to shop the department store sales. They had stayed until the stores closed and almost missed the train home. She remembered how they’d collapsed, breathless and laughing, onto the seats just as the train pulled out of the station. On the ride home, they’d played show-and-tell, each taking turns to admire their purchases.

“Here’s my favorite,” Christina said. She held
up a pale blue twinset that perfectly matched her eyes. “I’m going to wear it for a very special occasion.”

“Which will be …?”

“Don’t know yet. But when you see it on me, you’ll know it’s a special day.”

Trisha’s thoughts floated back to the present. Again she asked, “Why is Cody being sent to Chicago?”

“He’s had a massive head injury. Chicago is better able to take care of him because the hospital has a special head trauma unit.”

Trisha’s heart seemed to contract. “How bad is he hurt? Tell me, Mom … please tell me.”

Her mother hesitated but finally said, “He has a couple of broken ribs. And his face and arm needed stitches.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Her mother paused.

“What else? What aren’t you telling me?”

“He’s in a coma, honey.”

Trisha felt all the air go out of her lungs. “A coma? What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh, no … Not Cody, not Cody.” Hot tears pooled behind her eyes.

“Please don’t get upset. It won’t help you.”

“Me? I don’t care about me. I’ll be fine. But Cody …” She cried just thinking about him far away in a hospital, without her by his side. “Please tell me everything.”

“I was standing with his parents and heard what the doctor told them. He said that comas are nature’s way of protecting the brain. Cody could wake up tomorrow.”

“I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“We have no way of knowing when that will be. But I’ll take you to see him just as soon as you’re able.”

“But what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“They’re doing everything they can for him, Trisha. Don’t dwell on the negatives.”

“I want to see him.”

“You will. Just as soon as you’re able to travel.”

“I want to see him now.”

“That’s not possible, honey.” Her mother kissed her forehead. “Pray for him. Think good thoughts for him. That’s all you can do right now.”

“Can I call his mother?”

“Tomorrow. There’s time enough for that tomorrow.”

Trisha lay quiet for a while, concentrating
on the vision of Cody’s face. His smile lit up his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. She loved it when he came up behind her in the halls, put his arm around her shoulder, and whispered in her ear, “Who loves you, babe?”

And she’d say, “Have we met?”

And he’d say, “Don’t tell me you’re spoken for. Am I going to have to take some guy out before we can live happily ever after?”

And she’d say, “No. You’re the one I want.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Trisha’s eyelids grew heavy, but she fought sleep. She still hadn’t heard about Christina. She clenched and unclenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms, psyching herself up to hear the news. “And Christina, Mom? How’s Christina?”

“You know, there’ll be plenty of time to talk tomorrow. You should get some rest now. I’ll go find Dr. Joyce and see if I can take you home.” Her mother stood.

“Wait.” Trisha caught her arm, her heart hammering hard. “Tell me about Christina. I don’t want to leave here until I know. If she’s really bad, I want to see her before I go.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears, but she
held Trisha’s gaze without blinking. “I didn’t want to tell you this tonight. I wanted to wait until you were rested, stronger.”

Trisha felt new tears forming in her eyes and braced herself for what was to come, for what she could not change.

“Christina died at the scene, Trisha,” her mother said. “Chrissy’s dead.”

Seven
 

D
eep down, Trisha had known all along. She had felt it in her soul. When had she first suspected it? Perhaps when she’d been lifted into the ambulance and seen the dark shapes in the ditch. Or when she’d glimpsed the stretcher along the wall, the sheet pulled up to cover the human being beneath it. Her subconscious had seen it in the graceful shape of the arm, the limp fingers, the curve of the hand. Trisha had known on some primal inner level that of the four of them, someone had not survived.

Tears clogged Trisha’s throat, yet she wept without making a sound. She might have
choked had her mother not shaken her and made her cough and take a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so very, very sorry.”

Trisha turned and pressed her face into her mother’s stomach, her sobs muffled against her mother’s clothes. Her mother held her tight and stroked her back. Together they cried until Trisha was so exhausted that her body sagged, almost as lifeless as her friend’s. How could it be true? How could Christina, so full of life hours before, be dead and gone? And what of Tucker? He must know by now too.

She thought about what he must be going through if he knew. What was it like for him, knowing that he had been driving the car that killed the girl he loved?

“You don’t have to go to school today, Trisha.”

“Yes, Mom, I do.” While she hobbled awkwardly on her crutches, gathering her books for her backpack, Trisha never looked at her mother standing in the doorway of her room. “And this would go a whole lot faster if you’d help me out a little,” she added, feeling frustrated.

“Why is it so important for you to head off to school less than two days after your accident? It’s only Monday. Your teachers will understand if you stay out for the entire week. There’s no need to rush back.”

“I can’t stay out. I have to go. Because of Christina.” She almost broke down just saying the name.

She’d come home from the hospital early Saturday morning, gone to bed, and slept until almost two in the afternoon. She’d awakened with a start, wondering why her parents had let her sleep so late. As she moved, pain shot through her. Only then did she remember what had happened. She’d gotten up, found the crutches the ER issued her, and made it down the hallway to the bathroom. When she saw herself in the mirror, she almost fainted.

Her hair had been cut away and a large bald spot shaved where black stitches crisscrossed part of her head. Her face was swollen, her lip bulged, and the area under her left eye was bruised black. Dried blood was caked in her hair and on her neck. She was Frankenstein’s monster.

Too sore even to begin cleaning up, she returned to her room. She thought about calling
Christina’s mother, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Later, she had been relieved when her mother had told her that she had called, but that Christina’s family had left a message on their answering machine saying, “We are not taking calls at this time, but we appreciate your condolences. Please give us a few days alone with our grief.” No one was home at Cody’s house when she called, but later that night, his mother, Gwyn, returned Trisha’s message. “How is he?” Trisha asked, emotion filling her voice.

“He’s still in a coma,” Gwyn said. “But he’s breathing on his own. That’s a good thing.” Her voice quivered. “I just want him to wake up.”

“Did they tell you when he might?”

“They don’t know. They said comas can be healing to the brain. Cody’s head has suffered a severe injury and the coma is a way for it to rest and recover.”

“I want to see him so badly.”

“And I didn’t want to come home and leave him there,” Gwyn said. “But I have to take care of Jennifer and Pete.” Those were Cody’s siblings. “We’ll all go to Chicago tomorrow and visit. He looks so pitiful in the bed. He can’t speak. He can’t even open his eyes.”

The picture was too much for Trisha to bear. “Maybe I can come too.”

“Wait a while,” Gwyn said. “Maybe he’ll wake up in a day or so. Then you can come. How are you, anyway?”

Trisha told her about her injuries, finishing with “I look terrible, but I’m all right. I mean, compared to Cody and to—” She stopped herself as tears welled.

“Yes, yes. I know. I think of Christina’s family all the time. I know Julia and Nelson are devastated.” Gwyn was silent, then added, “I’ll call you the minute there’s any change in Cody. In the meantime, take care of yourself.”