18 Truths (45 page)

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www.jamieayres.com

Photo Credit:
Owl Sisters Photography

“Every heart sings a song incomplete,
until another heart whispers back.”
—Plato

ll it took was one quick glance away from the road, one look at the guy racing me, one second of distraction… a slow veering of the steering wheel to the left that sent me skidding in the wrong direction.

As our cars collided, a loud thud vibrated through the air, and the car I drove jerked sideways. I lurched forward at the swaying of the vehicle’s weight, slamming my head against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed and punched me in the face. The sun glared off the hood of the car, blinding me as I groped for the wheel, trying to brake. Braking too hard, braking too late, the car going airborne.

For one split second, I was flying, my shaggy hair whipping back from my head, the trees on the side of the road waving to me in the peripheral of my vision. I screamed, yelled a prayer for help. Then Dad’s Monte Carlo landed, flipped on its side, and ejected me from my seat. A shattering of glass pierced my skin in the process, and then I was flying again, all on my own. As I sailed through the air this time, I squeezed my eyes shut.

No seatbelt ever strained against my chest.

I hadn’t meant to forget that safety feature when I decided to drag race another student home from school today. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for making wise decisions. Being forced to move to a small town three hours away the summer before my senior year would suck, but this was a gazillion times worse. If I didn’t die now, my parents just might kill me.

The asphalt slapped me hard as I skidded across the road before landing in a heap of weeds and rocks. The atmosphere smelled of smoke, metal, hay, and freshly turned graves. Lying in the field, my blood oozed out faster than a waterfall. Dad’s car looked like one giant, crushed soda can. Bo, the other kid racing me, remained in the driver’s seat of his car, unconscious, seatbelt securely fastened. His vehicle was still in one piece, but completely turned upside down.

I tried getting up to help him, but winced instead. The shock of the accident wore off and panic set in with the pain. Every part of me hurt.
My nose must be broken.
I cried out as if my heart were broken, too, and maybe it was.

How long will it be until I bleed to death?
I looked at my skin, now a red body suit, patches of it missing, ripped off by the pavement. Blood covered every single inch of me, and I sensed more oozing out, gaining speed just like the car had before I wrecked.

I cried now, screaming for anyone to help, but no one came. We were on a deserted highway. No cars rushed past, no screeching sirens heralded our rescue. Instead, wild sunflowers lined the dusty road; their heads nodding in the wake of our car crash like a cheerful welcoming committee to the afterlife.

Using all my strength, I slid my hand into my jean’s pocket, praying my cell phone hadn’t fallen out. Trembling, I painfully dialed 9-1-1. When the operator asked what my emergency was, I opened my mouth to speak but gagged on the words instead. I couldn’t remember who I was, or why I called, or anything. I just stared up at the fluffy clouds dotting the perfect blue sky, and drifted away into the subconscious of my mind.

I’d always been a thinker. Confucius, Plato, Aristotle… those were my heroes. One day, I hoped to join the ranks of the greatest philosophers of all time. But all the thoughts I needed eluded me now.

In my English III class this year, our teacher had us create a list of personal belief statements for one of our journal entries. Most of the students scoffed, complaining the assignment was a total waste of time. I think they just didn’t know what they believed yet, and were afraid of producing anything that couldn’t be summed up in a text message.

For whatever reason, the thoughts I wrote down for Mrs. Seaton scrolled through my mind now, like a playlist, as I ignored the emergency operator’s pleas for me to answer her.

I believe you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life. I believe it’ll take me a long time to become the person I want to be. I believe you should always leave loved ones with loving words because you never know when your time is up. I believe you can keep going long after you think you can’t. I believe we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel. I believe either you control your attitude, or it controls you. I believe that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you are down will be the ones to help you get back up. I believe sometimes I have the right to be mad, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel. I believe just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have. I believe maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated. I believe it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others; sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself. I believe that no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

I believe our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become. I believe you shouldn’t be so eager to find out a secret because it could change your life forever. I believe two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different. I believe people who don’t even know you can change your life in a matter of seconds. I believe even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help. I believe the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.

A light blinded me, forcing my eyes into a squint. My face pressed against the few warm blades of grass surrounding my pounding head. Time slowed, and darkness began to close in on me like the heavy curtains that signaled the end of a performance. I pulled in a final reedy breath.

I believed I might be dead now.

In the end, my thoughts were all I had to take with me.

A TV played quietly in the corner of my hospital room… not that it mattered, since I couldn’t
see
the screen. An optic nerve slammed against my brain in the car accident, resulting in some serious damage. The doctors thought my blindness to be temporary, but after five full days of total darkness, I was losing hope fast.

This was my first day of being stuck in North Ottawa Community Hospital. My drag racing earned me a total of twenty-four stitches across my left leg and abdomen, staples in the top of my head, a broken nose, temporary blindness—
fingers crossed
—a major blood transfusion, four broken ribs, and deep bruises and cuts covering the entire length of my body.

Despite all of my injuries, I took a three-hour ambulance ride to Grand Haven today because Dad had to start work at his new job here. What’s worse is they set me up in a room with some kid who’s been in a coma for two months, so now I had nothing to watch and nobody to talk to. Mom did her best to keep me company, but the way I constantly felt her swarming my bed made me nervous. Claiming fatigue, I encouraged her to go set up our new house while I rested.

I heard the door swoosh open.

“Lunch time already?”

Someone yelped in surprise. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize Conner had a new roommate.” A girl laughed nervously.

Oh my gosh. New roomie is h-o-t, even if he is all bandaged up. With my luck, he’s probably gay
…
What am I even saying? My best friend is in a coma! Who cares about Mr. Hottie? Ugh, what’s wrong with me these days?

“Whoa, take it easy. You okay?”

She cleared her throat. “Um, yeah.”

I forced myself to smile. “I’m Nate, new in town. They just transferred me to this hospital today.”

Nate, that has a nice ring to it.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Olga.”

“Olga has a nice ring to it, too. I’d shake your hand, but obviously, I can’t see a thing with these bandages. I’ve got this temporary blindness thing going on right now.”

And that would be why he’s still talking to me. Oh well, bonus! I can stare at him all day, and he won’t even know I’m being a creeper! I hope he can’t hear my heart pounding.
“Wow, that… stinks.”