The Story of Us (25 page)

“I can’t even imagine not having you
here right now.”

He presses his forehead to mine and we
stay like that for a moment, just holding onto each other. Then he
hugs me tightly and I relish in his arms around me, his muscles
hard and comforting, his musky scent, his breathe hot on my neck.
“My heart still races when you hold me like this,” I tell him,
pulling back a little and placing his hand over my chest. “Every
time.”

His eyes turn intense as he brings his
lips down on mine. “Do you have any idea what you mean to
me?”

But I don’t answer, I just kiss him
again.

When I pull away, he presses his
forehead back to mine. “Go say your goodbyes. I’m going to go get
the car. This has been the longest day and I can’t wait to just
hold you in my arms all night.”

“That sounds like heaven,” I tell him
before turning to walk back into Lexie’s room.

I say goodbye to his parents and to
Lexie. I promise them all that Craig and I will be back first thing
in the morning.

It’s a promise I’d unwillingly
break.

Chapter 19

I wait outside of the hospital for
Craig’s dad’s car to pull up. I wait. And wait. Then I text him.
Then I wait some more. Then I call him. Then I text again. Then I
continue to wait again. Just as I’m debating walking over to the
garage myself, it starts to rain. So I go back inside instead.
Finally, I go up to the information desk.

“My boyfriend went to get the car from
the garage and he hasn’t come back yet,” I tell her, unsure of what
my actual question is or how she could possibly help me.

To my surprise, she raises her
eyebrows and a sudden look of concern crosses her face. “A young
man who was crossing the street heading over to the garage was
brought in about forty minutes ago,” she tells me. “He’s registered
as a John Doe.”

I have a moment of panic, but then I
think, no, it hasn’t been that long. Surely, it hasn’t been forty
minutes, so it can’t be Craig. But then the more I think about it,
the more I think that it could be. And then the panic rises again.
I text him one more time.

“Ma’am?” I ask the lady at the desk,
“What happened to the John Doe? I mean why was he brought in,
exactly?”

“Well I don’t know the full story, but
from what I gathered, the young man was walking to the garage when
an older gentleman, who was having a heart-attack while driving
himself into the hospital, lost control of his vehicle…”

Everything after that drowns out. My
panic turns to hyperventilation.

“Please don’t get worked up. It’s
probably a coincidence. Your boyfriend may have just went to the
store…” she trails off. “Do you need medical help?” she asks,
taking in my hyperventilating state.

Somehow I manage to pull
myself together. “How do I,”
breath
, “find out,”
breath,
“who he
was?”
breath, breath, breath.

She gives me a sympathetic look again.
“They’re working on him now. I’m afraid they won’t let you in until
he’s stable. And even then, they won’t let you in unless you’re
related to the John Doe. But you’re welcome to wait
anyway.”

So that’s what I do, mainly because I
don’t know what else to do. I contemplate going back up to Lexie’s
room, but the Morgan’s have enough to worry about right now. I
don’t want to add to their stress, especially not until I know for
sure. And I’m really hoping the incident with this man is simply a
coincidence. Maybe Craig had another emergency he had to run off to
take care of. Maybe the car wouldn’t start in the
garage.

I decide to walk out in the rain over
to the garage. It’s unusually cold for this time of year and the
rain is beating down hard now. It’s difficult to see with the water
dripping down my face and into my eyes. I cross the street over
towards the parking garage. I don’t even know what floor the car is
parked on so I walk and walk and walk until I finally find Rick’s
car, untouched. I look for any sign that Craig might have been
here, but it’s useless. So I walk back to the hospital, in the rain
again. When I get back, I’m drenched and shaking from the cold. But
the only thing on my mind is finding Craig. The woman at the desk
notices me and beckons me over.

“They have a Ziploc bag with that
young man’s belongings in it. I can sneak it down for you to take a
quick look, if you’d like?”

“You have no idea. That would be so
helpful,” I tell her, beyond grateful, especially since I’m sure
it’s against the rules.

The wait is excruciating. I pace back
and forth as I twist the ring on my right ring finger, a ring that
promises forever. I want to go tell his parents more than anything,
but I’m holding out hope that the Ziploc bag will contain anything
but Craig’s belongings.

Finally, I see the lady walking over
to me from a distance, but I don’t need her to come closer to know
that the bag… the bag in the lady’s hands… the bag that is supposed
to tell me who was hit by that car, is exactly what I was hoping
not to see. She’s still a good thirty feet away, but I can see the
watch from here, the same watch I bought Craig for
Christmas.

I feel the lump in my throat
immediately. I taste the saltiness of my tears as they flow down,
resting on my lips. “Please tell me he’ll be alright,” I yell to
the lady, scared of my own voice and how foreign it
sounds.

She gives me a sad look. “They’re
doing the best they can. Are you a family member? I can tell them a
family member is out here so a doctor comes to gives you updates,”
she offers, even though she knows I’m not family.

“Yes,” I lie.

She just nods in understanding.
“What’s his name dear?”

“Craig Morgan.”

I know I have to go tell his parents,
but I’m just not sure I have the strength. I hate to put them
through another scare, when they are still dealing with Lexie’s.
Nonetheless, they need to know. So I walk up to Lexie’s hospital
room. I knock softly on the door. Then a bit louder. Rick comes to
the door first.

“Valerie? I thought you guys left
hours ago,” he starts, but then he notices my face. “What
happened?”

I tell him everything that happened
since stepping out of Lexie’s room. I have to remember to breathe
as I tell him about the waiting and the texting and the calling and
the lady at the desk. I tell him all of it through a mess of tears.
He walks down with me, not wanting Kathy to know anything yet.
Although I think she should know, I don’t argue with him. It’s not
my place.

When the doctor comes out, it’s just
me and Rick waiting.

He asks if we’re the family of Craig
Morgan and we both nod yes. He stands in front of us and shakes his
head from side to side. “I’m so sorry. We did all that we
could.”

“What?
No. No, there has to be some mistake,” I manage to say,
though my throat feels like it’s swelling beyond
control.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor says in
return. “When the car struck him, he hit his head on the pavement.
He had internal bleeding, not only in his lungs but in his brain as
well. We took him in for emergency surgery, but the bleeding was
beyond controllable.”

You feel your heart beat loudest when
it’s cracking open. The quick thudding slices the silence in the
air like a sharp knife.

By the time grief takes over, you
can’t even hear yourself cry, never mind your heart beating
anymore.

Grief – such a common word, felt by so
many. But this feels like more. It feels like a physical being, a
monster reaching into my chest and squeezing tightly.

Rick goes up to get his wife. I just
sit here and feel it all. I feel my stomach tighten. I feel nausea
swirl about. I feel my throat burn, my heart race, my lungs close
up. I feel my heart break in the most agonizing way.

When Kathy comes down, she hugs me
with so much force, it knocks the breath right out of me. We both
sob together, clinging onto one another for dear life.

“How did this happen?” she keeps
asking. But I can’t answer, not now.

They send a grief counselor out to
talk to us, probably because we’re causing a scene. But none of us
pay her any attention.

Rick goes in to identify
the body. The whole time I’m thinking
please let it be someone else in there
, even though I know it won’t be.

My mom picks me up at the hospital. I
don’t even know who called her. All I know is one minute I was
picturing Craig’s sideways smirk and the next minute, I lift my
head up and my mother is here.

We walk out into the rain and I can’t
help but think that the sky is crying too.

Before I know it, I’m in the comfort
of my own bed, only I’m anything but comforted. I don’t sleep at
all. I stare and think and stare. He was all alone. He had no one
with him in those last moments. I hear voices but I’m not even sure
who’s talking, never mind what they’re saying. I think I’ve been
lying here, staring into space, for days. But when Hailey comes
into my room and tells me the day and time, I realize it’s only
been about fourteen hours.

“Thanks for flying back,” I tell her…
the first thing I’ve said in fourteen hours. My throat is bone
dry.

“Drew’s here too, but I told him to
wait outside.”

“Tell him to come up.”

So the three of us sit there in my
bedroom. We talk about Craig and we cry. Eventually, they lay in
bed with me. Hailey holds me while I shudder in sobs that I can’t
control. I end up crying myself to sleep. When I wake, Hailey and
Drew are still here. Hailey offers me water and a sandwich, but I
only take the water. I’m not sure how long they’ve been here. It
could be a few hours or a few days. Time just doesn’t matter right
now.

When they leave, there’s nothing left
to do but think. I think back to when I couldn’t stand the sight of
Craig. I think back to his irritating comments and his relentless
teasing. I think about the words that he had used, how he always
said them in playfulness, but how they always had a second meaning,
an air of truthfulness. I didn’t believe that he actually liked me
because he always said so playing around. I could have had more
time with him if I believed him sooner and didn’t fight what I
already knew. Now he’s gone. And why? All because of some tragic
accident, some poor guy having a heart-attack. He should have
called for an ambulance. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not
fair.

It’s not fair. The only
thing I can think for the next long stretch of time is that it’s
just not fair. I have no idea how much time passes.
It’s. Just. Not. Fair.
He had his whole life ahead of him. He had my whole future in
the palm of his hands. Both are gone now.

I always knew he would end up breaking
my heart, but I never thought it would end like this. I never even
knew heartbreak could feel like this. Hearts are fragile because
they bruise easily. Most times when people think they’re
broken-hearted, they only realize it was just a bruise after they
experience real heartbreak. I can honestly say I’ve never had a
broken heart until now.

“It hurts that bad because it mattered
that much,” Hailey had said when she was here earlier. I guess
she’s right. I should be thankful that I felt love that strong. But
right now, all I can think about is the heartache that comes from
losing a love that strong. I’m not thankful. I’m bitter.

My parents come in and I know they’re
not going to be helpful. It’s not exactly like they ever got to
know Craig or were ever accepting of my relationship with him. But
I let them talk nonetheless.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” my
mom starts.

“He wasn’t my friend, mom. He was the
love of my life.”

They both chuckle a little, which
irritates me beyond belief. “You’re not even twenty years-old,
Hailey. You’re a teenager. You’ll meet someone else and live a
happy life. You have the rest of your life ahead of you,” my father
lectures.

There’s so many things wrong with that
statement, but I focus on just two. “First off, you’re insinuating
that because I’m only a teenager, I couldn’t possibly know what
true love is, which is wrong. I felt it and it was real. Second,
you’re really going to sit here and lecture me about the fact that
I have my whole life ahead of me? You don’t think that I understand
that? That’s the problem. How am I going to live the rest of my
life knowing that Craig doesn’t get to live his? What we had was
unforgettable. It was real and life-changing. And
beautiful.”

“Oh, honey,” my mom says, “beautiful
things never last. That’s why fireworks fizzle out, pretty leaves
fall off of trees, glistening snow melts. It’s all just
temporary.”

My father turns to my mother, “She’s
just being dramatic. She’ll fight anything we say right now. Don’t
bother.”

My mother gives me a sympathetic look.
“I know it hurts honey. But it’s really not the end of the world.
You’ll get over this.”

I don’t say anything. I
just want them to leave my room… and they do. I think, at least I
hope, that what she meant to say was that I’ll get
through
this. Because I
know I’ll never simply get over it.