Promise of Forever (2 page)

Without another word, the EMT jumped into the back of the ambulance and pulled the back door closed.

And just like that, I watched in silence as the ambulance’s sirens came to life and the flashing red vehicle sped off down the street, taking Chloe away from me.

Save her?
I echoed the EMT’s words in my head as I headed toward my car.
But she can’t…she just can’t. I can’t lose her now.

CHAPTE
R TWO

Chloe

I couldn’t remember how I got there, or why I was there, or even what I’d been doing before that very moment, but there I was, standing in a long, narrow hallway that seemed to stretch on in front of me with no end in sight. The bright florescent lights overhead made the stark-white walls look sterile and unwelcoming around me.

There were doors running along both sides of me. As I started to walk down the hallway, I passed a few. They were all closed, but for some reason, I knew they weren’t locked. Every door looked identical—white, like the walls, with only the thin outline of the doors’ edges and the shiny brass knobs setting them apart from the walls. There were no signs, numbers, or words on any of the doors, and no way to distinguish one door from the next.

Wondering what or where the doors led me to, I reached for the doorknob of the door that was closest to me. But I didn’t turn the knob. I felt hesitant to open the door. Now that I stood only inches from the doorframe, my ears picked up a faint sound over the steady buzzing of the florescent lights. It was coming from the other side of the door. I inched closer and pressed my ears gently against the white paint of the door. The sound was louder now. It was a soft steady beeping.

What is that?
I wondered as I pressed my ear harder against the door. I thought about reaching for the doorknob again and opening the door to find out, but I stopped myself. It was almost as if some force held me back, like an invisible barrier that prevented me from moving forward. My curiosity about the beeping on the other side of the door wasn’t enough to overcome this barrier.

I was just about to move away from the door and walk away when the sound of a man’s voice from the other side of the door stopped me. 

“It’s all my fault that she’s lying here.”

Even though his voice was muffled by the door between us, I could hear him clearly. There was something familiar about this voice, almost like I’d heard it before. Something stirred inside me—was it a memory? No, it was a feeling. Warmth and happiness, like home. I tried to think through the fog that filled my thoughts, to try to figure out why I was suddenly feeling nostalgic.

“I could have prevented this,” the voice continued. “I should have caught up to her faster and forced her to stop before...” The man trailed off, never finishing the rest of the sentence.

I wasn’t sure what or who he was talking about, but from the anguish that seemed to seep into his every word, my interest was piqued. I decided to stay by the door a little longer before moving on and leaned my ear against the door a little more.

“Sweetie, please don’t think like that,” an elderly female voice responded. “This isn’t your fault. You did the best you could.”

“No, not my best.” The man’s voice was strained and I wondered why he sounded so mad.
He can’t be mad at this woman, can he?

“Betty’s right,” an elderly male voice said. “I know you’re upset, but don’t beat yourself up like this. You need to stay strong for her. None of us really know what happened earlier today or why she left the house so abruptly. We were in the kitchen and didn’t even know she left the house until we heard her cellphone ring non-stop in the living room. We knew she had been upstairs at the time so we called out to her to tell her that her phone was ringing. When she didn’t respond, I went to go look for her. That’s when I saw the front door wide open and her car gone.”

“I should have been there for her,” the first voice I’d heard said in frustration. “I saw her face before she…she looked really upset. She looked like she’d been crying.”

I could tell by the way he talked about this woman that he loved and cared deeply for her. I wondered what had happened to her. Maybe this man had an argument with her. Maybe he’d made her cry and she left him. I shook my head and sympathized with him.
If only she was here to hear the pain and regret in his voice, she would certainly forgive him and take him back, wouldn’t she?

“Poor child,” the woman said with a sigh. “I really wish I knew what made her so upset. I just don’t know what I’d do if anything were to happen to her. I told Judy I’d take care of her daughter.” The woman’s last few words came out like sobs.

“She’ll be okay, Betty,” the older man reassured. “She’s always been so strong. She’ll pull through this. Let’s all just stay positive. The doctor said they’re probably moving her out of the ICU tonight and into one of the regular hospital rooms. From the scans, her head injuries aren’t as severe as the doctors first thought.”

“But why isn’t she waking up, then?” the woman asked. I could hear the fear in her voice.

“Honey, remember what the doctors said. It’s just a matter of time,” the older man reassured. “She’s responding to stimuli, so she’s not comatose. Right now we just have to wait until she wakes up. It’s up to her now, and Chloe’s a fighter. I believe in her, don’t you?”

“I do,” the younger man answered instead. “I believe in her. She’s stronger than anyone I know.” There was so much conviction in his voice that for some reason, I was touched by his words.

From what I could gather from their conversation, I knew I’d been wrong earlier. This man didn’t have an argument with this woman named Chloe. It sounded like something had happened to her. I wondered if she was okay.
I hope so
, I thought to myself.
I hope, for his sake, this Chloe will be okay.
A wave of sadness filled me at the thought of this man in pain and I wiped away a tear that was running down my face.

“You’re right, Jackson,” the woman agreed. “I believe in her.”

When I heard the man’s name, something stirred inside me again. I blinked, trying to understand what it was that I was feeling.

“Well, it’s getting late,” the man named Jackson said. “Aunt Betty, you just got back from the hospital today. I know it’s been a long day for both of you. Why don’t you guys head home and get some rest? I’ll stay with her and keep her company. I’ll call you guys if there are any changes.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Betty, you’re still on some medication, and the doctor said it can cause some drowsiness. We can come back early tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” the woman said reluctantly. “Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself for the rest of the night, Jackson? You haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“Don’t worry about me, really. I’ll just get some food from the cafeteria or get some delivered here.”

“You’ve always been such a good kid, Jackson,” the woman said affectionately. “I’m so happy to hear that you guys finally worked out your problems.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jackson agreed. “Of course, I have to thank you for the needed kick-in-the-butt for me to realize what an idiot I’d been.”

“Sometimes we all need someone else to give us a nudge to be able to see things clearly.”

“Here’s your jacket, Betty,” the older man said. I heard some rustling. “Should we get going?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for staying with her tonight,” the man said. “Chloe’s really lucky to have you as a friend, Jackson.”

“Thanks, Uncle Tom.”

“Bye, Jackson,” the woman said.

“Bye, guys. Have a good night.”

As I heard another door open and close, my mind was swirling through the dense fog that blanketed my thoughts.

I wasn’t sure why, but my thoughts couldn’t seem to let go of this man’s name.

Jackson.

Jackson.

Jackson.

As the name echoed in my mind, something unexpected happened. Without thinking, I reached for the doorknob and pushed open the door. When the door opened in front of me, it was like a switch inside my head had suddenly been flipped on, lifting the barrier that separated me from all the memories I hadn’t known existed. One memory after another started flooding into my mind. Within seconds, I remembered everything—every precious memory I’d held dear to my heart and every painful memory I’d wanted so desperately to forget. 

I was the Chloe these voices had been talking about. And that voice I’d been drawn to, the man I’d felt sorry for just moments before, was Jackson—my Jackson.

No, not
your
Jackson, never your Jackson
, a voice in my mind reminded me as one of my most painful memories emerged to the forefront of my thoughts.

I looked into the small room the door led into. It was white and empty with no windows or fixtures. There were also no other doors besides the one I’d just opened.

Where did they go? How did they leave this room? But didn’t Jax say he’d stay with me? Had he changed his mind?

With so many questions swimming around in my head, I wasn’t sure what was going on. As I took a small step into the room, I tried to remember how I got there. I thought back to the conversation I’d heard Jackson having with Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom moments ago. I remembered them mentioning doctors and being in the ICU.

Am I at a hospital? I looked around the window-less room and then back out into the endless white hallway. But this doesn’t make sense. This isn’t what a hospital looks like. If it is a hospital, then there should be people—doctors, nurses, patients, visitors. But there is no one here. No one besides me.

Then I felt something—a warm tingle on top of my right hand.
That kind of felt like a hand!
I looked down, expecting to see the source of the feeling. But to my surprise, there was nothing on top of my hand.

Am I losing it? There’s no one here. How can there be a hand if there’s no one here? I must have imagined the hand on mine, right?

Suddenly—almost as if to prove me wrong—I felt a hand firmly squeeze mine, which sent a ripple of warm tingles to pass through my body.

How can something be imaginary if it feels so real? I asked myself, wondering what this all meant.

I felt completely confused and disoriented. I knew I was missing something—something big that was staring me right in the face. I felt like I could figure out the answers to my questions if I could just push away the fog that blurred my thoughts. I felt like I knew what was going on, but somehow, my mind was scattered about like an unfinished box of puzzle pieces.

“Clo.” His familiar, soothing voice broke through the silence, startling me out of my thoughts.

I whipped around to look behind me, expecting him to be standing there at the entrance of the door.

But he wasn’t there.

I turned back to face the empty room. Nothing.

Maybe I’m hearing things? Jax isn’t here.

“I need you to fight through this, Clo,” came his voice again.

I didn’t have to look around again to know he wasn’t in the room. His voice seemed to resonate through the emptiness of the room, through the walls, and throughout the hallway, almost as if he were on a PA system that covered the entire facility.

“You’re a fighter.”

Jackson’s words reminded me of something Uncle Tom had said earlier. “Right now we just have to wait until she wakes up. It’s up to her now, and Chloe’s a fighter.”

Am I still asleep? Am I unconscious?
I looked around my surroundings again.
This place doesn’t seem like it’s real. And I don’t remember coming here.
I tried again to think of the last thing I was doing before I found myself in the white hallway.

I was in my car…I just found John’s letters to my mom…I was upset…then I lost control of the wheel… Then it hit me. I drove off the bridge and into the lake!

“You need to wake up, Clo. I still have so many questions for you. Like why did you leave your house so abruptly? Why were you upset? Why didn’t you pull over when I was behind your car? Why did you ignore me when I was honking at you to stop?” His questions came out in waves of grief.

He was behind me?
I took in his words, wondering if I understood them correctly. I tried to think back to the minutes leading up to the moment the car crashed through the bridge railing. I couldn’t remember seeing him behind me or hearing any honking. I remembered that I’d been a wreck when I ran out of the house. The radio had been on when I was driving and I had been crying so hard, I could barely see a thing on the road.

I heard him let out a heavy sigh through his mouth and I felt my chest tighten at the thought of him in so much agony.

I
didn’t mean to swerve off the bridge!
I didn’t realize you were behind me
, I wanted to scream out. But I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me. By then, it was clear to me that somehow I hadn’t died in the lake that day. I was lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. From what Uncle Tom had said earlier, whether or not I was going to wake up was now up to me. I wondered if that was true. More importantly, I wondered if I really wanted to wake up.

“Please just wake up, Clo,” Jackson said, almost as if he were objecting to my last thought. “We’re supposed to be on our first date right now. We’re supposed to be happy right now.” I heard him sigh again, this time low and drawn out. “You wanna hear about the night I had planned out for us tonight? It was going to be perfect. I was going to pick you up early because I couldn’t wait to see you. Of course, you had no objections to that because you were dying to see me, too.” He gave a little chuckle. “I was going to have a large bouquet of tulips for you when I picked you up. That would make you smile, which was going to make me smile because I love the way you look when you smile like that. We were going to have a romantic dinner at this amazing restaurant called Ela in the city. We would eat amazing food, drink lots and lots of wine, and lose ourselves in each other’s company. Then at some point, our waiter would probably come over to our table and ask us to leave because the restaurant was already closed. After dinner, we would go on a nice, leisurely stroll down South Street. At some point, we would probably stop at one of the bars on that street and grab a small table in a secluded corner. You’d laugh at all my silly jokes that you don’t find funny, and I would let you punch me a few times because I know that’s one of your favorite pastimes.” He chuckled again. “Clo, it would be like how we used to be. Except it’d be better, because now I could kiss you whenever I wanted to—which is like all the time, by the way—and hold you in my arms, and tell you how I feel about you without worrying about how you’d respond.”