Come What May (Heartbeat) (6 page)

Chapter Eleven
Adam

My hand tingles as icy fingers wrap around my wrist. Her red hair is streaming across her face as she stares straight ahead. In profile, she looks strong, whole even. She’s standing at attention with the wind whipping through her unfastened coat. But she doesn’t feel the cold. She’s fixated on the scene in front of us.

We’re at the far corner of the parking lot, holding hands and watching phantom images of ourselves carry on the pantomime of the car accident. Both of us are playing our roles. Katie is stricken in my arms, her forehead pressed against mine. She’s leaving me yet again. But I don’t give in to the despair because her thumb is tracing circles against my palm.

When the body bag emerges, I want to look away, but she refuses to loosen her hold on me. We observe the entire procedure as her slight frame is swallowed by the vinyl-encapsulated darkness. Overcome with conflicting emotions, my nails dig into the smoothness of her porcelain skin, yet she doesn’t utter a cry. Instead, she turns to look at me. It’s now or never.

“What do you want?” The words tumble from my lips as I start to get lost in her hypnotic gaze. I’m starting to forget my name…where I am…everything that matters. I have to hold on. I have to get her to answer me. “Please, tell me.”

She smiles at me, standing on her toes to tuck my hair behind my ears. The chill of her touch seeps into my bones as her milky white hands run down my chest. She’s caressing me, torturing me. But she doesn’t speak.

“I’m begging you…” I make a last ditch effort to get her to communicate with me as she takes a step back. I fight to maintain some semblance of purpose. She’s making it so easy to lose focus.

Her reluctance causes a shift in the atmosphere, and suddenly it’s like we’re inside a giant snow globe as the winter storm pelts us from all sides. She’s retreating into the whiteness as I’m temporarily blinded by the onslaught. I can’t let her escape.

“Katie!” I scream at the top of my lungs, and even though she’s invisible to me, her voice enters my mind. She’s humming what sounds like a lullaby. It makes my eyelids feel heavy, and all I yearn to do is drift back to sleep. Resisting with all of my might, I call out, “Tell me!”

Her face is suddenly directly in front of mine—her hair sprawled out in every direction. Fear overwhelms me as she examines me like I’m her prey. Then she’s grinning like she’s amused by my reaction.

Her frosty breath coats my eyelashes as I grasp her shoulders, pinning her against my body. Her expression becomes sorrowful, and I’m afraid that I’m hurting her. But before I have a chance to change my mind, she whispers one plaintive command.

“Love.”

***

I wake up five minutes before my alarm. Despite the burning pain in my ribs, I finally slept through the night. I don’t know if the painkillers knocked me out or if it has to do with my breakthrough with Katie. Either way, I feel rejuvenated.

It seems I didn’t move a muscle since I placed my head on the pillow. I’m securely tucked under the blanket, and the sheets aren’t a rumpled mess at the bottom of the bed. Sliding to the edge, the cold air hits me, and I curl my left arm around the bandage extending halfway up my chest. I ponder the meaning of Katie’s message. Who does she want me to love?

The alarm on my phone goes off, and I hit it, noticing I have a text message from Jada that was sent nearly two hours ago. Man, what time does that girl get up in the morning?

WE HAVE 2 WEEKS OFF UNTIL YOUR RIBS HEAL. WANNA HELP ME STUDY INSTEAD?

Not really, but it beats the alternative of moping around by myself without anything else to do.

I GUESS. I HAVE CLASS TODAY. MEET U AT THE LIBRARY?

Immediately, her response pings my phone.

AROUND 2?

Jada missed her calling. With her efficiency, she should be in the military, not having her ass hauled around by me in some ambulance. I really want to tell her about my dream, but not by text. Trying to play it cool, I shoot back a one-word response.

YEAH.

I wonder what she could possibly need my assistance for. She probably aces every class she takes. I’m good in the field, but hitting the books isn’t my strong suit. Especially when it comes to somebody else. But she’s probably still freaking out after yesterday, and I am her partner. I need to show her some form of support. It actually makes me feel better knowing I can be there for somebody else instead of being so caught up in my problems. Maybe Katie’s message is rubbing off on me after all. Even if I don’t ‘love’ Jada like that, I still care about her. So far, she has turned out to be a pretty good friend to me—at a point in my life when I sure as hell didn’t deserve one.

***

I get there early and save a table. Easing into the hard wooden chair, I toss my backpack at my feet. A lot of students are on the computers, no doubt checking email and surfing the net rather than doing any research. I don’t usually spend a lot of time in here. When I have to hit the books, my kitchen turns into my study area. My mind is already wandering, watching everybody milling about. I’d never be able to concentrate with so much going on around me. But then it takes me longer than most anyway. I’m not exactly at the top of my class.

Jada breezes in and I’m struck by how she carries herself. She’s pretty petite, but her posture makes her appear much taller. She walks with purpose. There’s nothing hurried or frazzled about her. She’s unflappable. Even yesterday, when I was getting the crap beat out of me, she was levelheaded enough to stay calm and fend off our attacker. She didn’t hide in the house and lock the door. No, she came to my defense when I needed her the most. Again, a twinge of embarrassment runs through me. How could I even think about blowing her off when she practically saved my life? Yeah, I need to reexamine my priorities a little bit. My selfishness needs to be held in check.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” As she gets closer to the table, her concern is apparent. I’m hunched forward, leaning on my elbows, trying to shift the pressure off my ribs. I didn’t take another painkiller this morning because I wanted my head to be clear for our study session.

“As well as can be expected, I guess. What about you?” I watch as she removes her jacket and drapes it over an adjacent chair.

“My roommate and I had a couple glasses of wine before I was able to fall asleep. The cops called late last night and asked me a few more questions. They don’t like that I disturbed the crime scene when I picked up the gun. But they didn’t see how that maniac was acting, and at least the eyewitness accounts from the neighbors are backing up my story.” She smoothes a stray hair into place while methodically lining up her worksheets in front of her textbook. She wants to appear like she’s in control, but I can tell there’s a lot going on under the surface.

“They can’t possibly be giving you a hard time about this. I mean, c’mon, it was self-defense.” I’m agitated that they’re even questioning her. “Do you want me to call them and set them straight?”

“No. Don’t do that, Adam. It’s fine, really.” Her hand grips my arm and she levels me with her gaze. “I’ll deal with it. It’s not like I’m covering up anything. I’m telling them the truth.”

“Well, it turns out that asshole works in the mayor’s office, so that might have something to do with it.” I don’t want to make her nervous, but small town politics always have some role to play when it comes to a high profile murder investigation. “The cops are being extra careful that everything adds up.”

“You don’t think they’re going to try to pin this on me, do you?” There’s a slight tremor in her voice. But where most girls would be breaking down in tears, Jada’s as solid as a rock.

“They’d be crazy to even think about it. Plus I’m sure Lizzy saw a lot. She’s just a little kid, but she was there.” I pat her hand and she gives me a tight smile. I really wish she didn’t have to deal with this. She was just doing her job, and everything went haywire.

“Thanks, Adam. I really needed to hear that, especially from you.” She withdraws her hand and begins opening her notebook. For a moment, I miss the warmth of her touch. But I return to the task at hand as she shoves a stack of flashcards in front of me.

“What’s all this?” I have to laugh. This girl is so prepared. It’s scary. What the hell does she need me for?

“It’s medical terminology I have to know for tomorrow’s exam.” She’s all business now. Chat time is over. “You say the word and I’ll give you the definition.”

We go on like that for the next hour or so. She doesn’t miss a beat. Her recall is amazing. I’m impressed. I took this class last year and forgot some of the material. So helping Jada isn’t a waste of time. It’s serving as a good refresher for me.

“Last one. Name the two dorsal cavities.” I don’t even look up. I keep my eyes fixed on the card. She’s got this.

“Cranial and spinal.” She’s watching me expectantly. The word spinal is in parentheses. It’s the correct answer, but there’s an alternate term.

Deciding to push her, I press forward. “Spinal or…?”

She rolls her eyes. “Vertebral.”

“You are good, mama. No doubt about it. How did you ever get stuck with me?” Shaking my head, I can’t quite fathom my luck at being assigned to her.

“Adam, are you kidding? Everyone around here knows how good you are in the field. Yeah, I’m book smart, but I have a long way to go before I can catch up to your experience level.” Retrieving her cards, she starts to pack up. But I don’t want to let her go, not yet.

“I’ve just been doing it for so long, that’s all. It’s like second nature. You’ll get there.” Her notes are so orderly. There’s not a doodle or even a scribble anywhere to be found. I can’t help asking, “How’d you get to be such a good student?”

“Well, my mom always wanted the best for me. So I was enrolled in a private high school. Everyone got a lot of one-on-one attention from the teachers since the class sizes were so small. But it also made the competition pretty intense, and I don’t like to lose.” Her jaw is rigid, as if these memories are painful for her to remember.

“So why didn’t you go to a four-year college? You must’ve been offered a slew of scholarships.” It’s not the first time I wondered about her career choice.

“For years, I was around a lot of white people and made to feel like an outsider. It was like being in a bubble. Everyone was living this sheltered life, but I was the only one who seemed to realize it. It wasn’t the real world. I was taught to believe that I was something special. But when I came out of it, I realized that I’m really at the bottom. It was a lot of false hopes and promises.” She exhales loudly. It’s strange to hear her sound so defeated.

“What are all your classmates doing now?” She keeps comparing herself to them like she’s not good enough. And I don’t like it.

“One is studying to be a doctor. Another entered West Point. Then there’s one going for an architectural degree. Shall I go on?” She’s bitter. Acting like they’re so much better when she can be doing the same exact thing if she wanted to. So why isn’t she?

“There has to be more to it than what you’re telling me. You’re on an equal level with them. Why aren’t you doing something spectacular with your life?” I don’t mean to hurt her, but maybe she needs someone to set her straight.

“Funny, I thought I was.” She gathers up her belongings and storms off in a huff.

“Jada, wait,” I call to her, but she doesn’t respond. Damn it. I hit my fist against the table, and those around me turn to stare. Things were going so well. Leave it to me to screw things up with her…again.

Chapter Twelve
Jada

I don’t think I’ll ever have everything going for me at the same time. If my grades are up, then so is my weight. If my skin is blemish-free, then my hair is a funky shade of red. If the guy I like actually starts taking an interest in me, then he has to take things too far. Why does life have to be so contradictory? How come I can never have it all instead of in bits and pieces?

Adam is almost at the end of his recovery period. We go back to work on Tuesday, but I haven’t really spoken to him since our blow-up in the library. I passed my test, and I sent him a text thanking him for his help. He responded with a smiley face. That’s it. He’s still pissed at me for shutting him out, but he was unknowingly circling a topic I don’t want to talk about—what made me want to be a paramedic.

Sitting on a metal bench, I observe a van pulling a trailer filled with brightly colored kayaks and canoes. The sun is strong, and I shield my eyes against the glare. It’s Memorial Day weekend and the outdoor adventure center is bustling with activity. On the spur of the moment, I hopped in my car and drove forty-five minutes to the banks of the Delaware River. A Saturday alone on the water is just what I need to clear my head.

A group of boys no older than ten run excitedly across the parking lot with two fathers trailing behind them. They pay for their excursion and join me on the bench. Looks like we’re heading up river together. From their boisterous chatter, I make out that they’re a bunch of Boy Scouts. I don’t say much, and for the most part they ignore my presence. That’s okay. I have a lot on my mind. At least they’re a welcome distraction.

A van arrives hauling a red kayak and two heavy canoes. My heart stops when the driver gets out. It can’t be. He removes his sunglasses, and I start breathing again. For a moment, I thought it was Adam. The guy looks so much like him—shaggy blond hair, chiseled jaw line, defined biceps. My face flushes and he throws me a curious glance. Way to draw even more attention to myself despite the fact that I’m apparently the only person of color on the premises.

“Are you all here for the one o’clock excursion?” Adam’s clone steps forward, addressing the two fathers. He obviously thinks we’re together in one big group, even though we’re not.

The boys bolt, leaving me alone. The driver consults his passenger list as they climb into the van. The ignition is still running and all of the doors are thrown open. I sling my pack over my shoulder and proceed toward them while still keeping my distance. No one seems too concerned about me. Once they’re all inside the van, the driver leaves me standing there while he counts out the appropriate number of lifejackets.

“Excuse me? Don’t you need my name?” I’m a little annoyed. Damn it, I’m a paying customer too.

“I wasn’t sure if you were with them or not.” He gives me a quick grin while loading the back of the van with more equipment. “I’ll be right with you.”

I tap my flip-flop against the gravel as anger burns within me. This day is hard enough for me as it is, asshole. There’s no need to make it even harder. A little consideration would be nice. Especially since it’s the anniversary of my best friend’s death.

***

Gloria was the one person in high school who was nice to me. She was kind of an outcast herself. So on the first day of freshman year, it was such a relief when she started talking to me after the opening assembly. Everyone else was chatting away. Many knew each other since grade school, but my mom was only able to get enough cash together to pay for my last four years—the ones that counted when it came to applying to colleges. So when I found out Gloria and I were in the same homeroom, it made things a lot easier.

We were inseparable all the way through our senior year. Our lockers were in the same row. We chose our electives together so our schedules would match up. We joined clubs like yearbook and SADD, and Gloria would drive me home in her mom’s Volvo. Too bad both of us didn’t follow through on our sobriety pledge.

After the homecoming dance, Gloria hooked up with Ryan, the tight end of the football team. I didn’t go to the afternoon game, but apparently Gloria hung out with a few of the cheerleaders on the sidelines. Their thermoses of juice were spiked with vodka and they willingly supplied Gloria with more than she cared to drink. They were laughing at her by having fun at her expense. And I wasn’t there to protect her.

Since Jason went to public school, it took me nearly an hour to convince him to accompany me to the dance. He didn’t want to socialize with a bunch of private school kids, and I understood where he was coming from. But it was my last year, and I really wanted to go with my boyfriend. Eventually, he caved but we got there late.

By the time we entered the streamer-adorned gymnasium, Gloria was a mess. Her mascara was smudged. Her hair was coming loose. And Ryan was all over her. So much so, that the chaperones repeatedly attempted to separate them. I tried to intervene, but Gloria screamed at me to get away from her, saying that I was jealous that she was with Ryan and I was stuck with Jason. She finally had a real boyfriend, and the last thing she wanted was my getting in the way of her new relationship.

After she yelled at me in front of the whole school, I turned on my heel and marched out the door as Jason trailed behind me. I cried the entire ride home and didn’t even tell Jason goodbye when he dropped me off. I hadn’t felt so betrayed since the ordeal with my father. It hurt so much.

Monday morning, word got around that Ryan had coerced Gloria into the backseat of his car…right in the school parking lot. He was bragging about it to anyone who would listen. When Gloria went running up to him in the hallway between classes, he loudly announced he was dumping her to everyone within earshot. Utterly humiliated, she hid in the nurse’s office until her mom came to pick her up.

I tried calling her when I got home, but she refused to come to the phone. Three days later, when she returned to school, she was a shadow of her former self. The light had gone out of her eyes as she shuffled through the crowd with her head down. For a while, students continued to taunt her until they got bored with harassing her and moved on to a new target.

I employed every method possible to get her to talk to me. But when I’d sit by her at lunch, she’d ignore me without saying a word. It was like I wasn’t even there. For months, I tried to reach out to her, but she rebuffed my every attempt. It was only days before graduation that she finally reached out to me.

At about nine o’clock on a Friday night, she called me and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Thrilled to hear her voice, I immediately said yes. We had so much we needed to talk about, and I didn’t want high school to end with the two of us on the outs. I was hopeful that at last she was seeing things clearly and we could go back to the way things were before homecoming.

When she beeped the horn of the Volvo, I sprinted out the door and reclaimed my familiar place in the passenger seat. Her expression was dazed, and that should have set off alarm bells right there, but I chose to ignore what my instincts were telling me.
She’s drunk. Get out of the car.
But I was too desperate to mend things with my best friend.

She didn’t say anything until we reached an isolated spot on the outskirts of town. We were on a narrow, twisty road without any streetlights. She turned on her high beams but she didn’t slow down. All her words came out in a rush. How Ryan raped her and how several members of the football team watched. How he threatened her that if she went to the police he would stash heroine in her locker and make it look like it was hers. How she ended up pregnant and got an abortion on her own without anyone knowing. Not Ryan. Not her parents. Not even me.

The revelations were staggering, and I felt like such a jerk for not being there for her when she needed me the most. I should have known something was up. I was a terrible friend to her. Why did I give up on her so easily? She was pushing me away because she was in an incredible amount of pain that she didn’t know how to deal with. She was crying out for help, and I did nothing but walk away and turn my back on her.

She was hysterical behind the wheel. Tears streamed down her face. The windshield was fogged up, and she couldn’t see where she was going. We came to a sharp curve in the road, and she wasn’t ready for it. We hit the tree head on. Before I could say I was sorry. Before I had the chance to tell her it would all be okay. Before I could give her a hug and ease the burden surrounding her heart.

She hit the tree at an angle. The incident report said she swerved the wheel so the driver’s side of the vehicle would sustain the majority of the impact. In the final seconds of her life, she was trying to save mine. And she did.

Her air bag deployed, but she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Her head shattered the windshield. She died on contact. I later found out her blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit, but I knew the trauma of her confession was what really caused the crash. The weight of the entire year collapsed upon her. I should have had her pull over, but I was too overwhelmed by what she was telling me. I didn’t think. I failed her, yet again.

I don’t remember being pried out of the mangled metal and broken glass. When I awoke, I was on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance with a kind face looking down on me. I was riddled with cuts and bruises, but the only major injury I sustained was a broken rib. The paramedic gently dabbed the dried blood covering my forehead. I winced when I attempted to look around the back of the rig. I needed to find Gloria, but he held my head, urging me to calm down. But I couldn’t. I fought against his hold and sat up as a jolt of searing pain shot through my body. Helpless, I sank back against the stretcher as he told me Gloria didn’t make it.

I cried so much I didn’t think I would ever stop. He proceeded to attend to my injuries while he tried to comfort me. Despite my condition, I noticed his heartfelt display of empathy. And it made me cry even harder. I lost my best friend. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t going to graduate. She wasn’t going to college. She was never going to get married…or have any kids.

I swallowed a wail of anguish as the details of what she told me came flooding back. Gloria was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. A baby she didn’t want. A baby she got rid of in secret. No one even knew it had existed. It’s like it never happened. Ryan assaulted her then humiliated her. He left her to clean up the consequences of his criminal act. No one came to her rescue. She was violated in every possible way, yet she still managed to walk in that school day after day and face the insults of her attacker, the father of her never-to-be-born child.

Distraught, I was wheeled into the hospital barely cognizant of my surroundings. My mind and body were stretched beyond their capacity to cope. I yearned for something to ease the pain and send me into a state of oblivion. The kind paramedic gazed at me as I became dizzy watching the ceiling tiles fly by overhead. Before turning me over to the emergency room staff, he grasped my hand and told me I was going to be okay.

The events after the accident were a blur from Gloria’s funeral to graduation. Life continued to happen, but I didn’t feel a part of it. I was detached as I floated on the periphery, barely conscious of what was going on. The only thing that stuck out in my mind was that paramedic. He was my last connection to Gloria. Weeks later, I decided to track him down after uncovering his name when I combed through the accident reports.

I found him at the downtown station as he waxed one of the ambulances in the garage. He seemed surprised to see me, but he recognized me right away. He asked me how I was doing. I told him how my injuries were improving. But we both knew what wasn’t being said.

“I just wanted to thank you in person for all that you did for me…and for Gloria.” I was determined to get the message across, regardless of how difficult it was to verbalize. He needed to hear it. He deserved to hear it.

“What are you going to do now?” He kept his gaze fixed on me as he wiped a rag across the hood of the ambulance. He gave me my space. He didn’t crowd me or back me into a corner. He knew how to listen.

“I have absolutely no idea. I was supposed to go to Syracuse University with my boyfriend, but I changed my mind. Things are different now.” I shrugged my shoulders like it was no big deal. Who cared what happened to me? Now that Gloria was dead.

He paused in what he was doing and walked over to a row of pamphlets that lined the wall. He selected some and handed them to me. “Here’s some food for thought.” He monitored my reaction as I read the front covers. They were all about how to become a paramedic, and as crazy as it might sound, it felt like the perfect fit.

“No one was able to save your friend, but there are others out there who could use your help. Think about it.” He studied me carefully before backing away as his comm unit came to life.

Before he could grab the mic, I shouted, “Thank you, sir.”

He winked at me and yelled back, “Charlie. Call me, Charlie.”

***

“What’s your name again?” The Adam look-alike is peering at me expectantly. His blue eyes gaze up at me through his sandy lashes as he scans the list. I’m momentarily startled. I can’t believe I let my thoughts drift like that. I came here to keep the past at bay, not dredge it up.

Clearing my throat, I try to pull myself together. “Jada Martin.”

He skims the paper with his index finger and highlights the line displaying my information. “You booked a kayak, right?”

“Yep.” My mind is a thousand miles away, but I try to focus on what he is saying.

“And you’re by yourself? Have you ever gone kayaking before?” Great, he thinks I’m some kind of weirdo. He doesn’t know the half of it.

“Yeah, about two years ago.” It was a disastrous trip with Jason where we argued more than anything. I was hormonal and it started to rain. Wet and miserable, we pulled ourselves down the river, complaining the whole time. It wasn’t a day to add to the highlight reel of our relationship.

“So you know what you’re doing?” His phrasing unsettles me. Of course I don’t know what I’m doing. I never do.