Authors: Shelly Crane
"You did break up with me," he confessed, quietly, his eyes haunted. "I was such an ass. You caught me that night with...it doesn't matter." He grabbed at his hair. "You'd told me so many times that you were through with me, that you'd had enough of my crap, but I knew you'd take me back. You always did and no one ever knew what was going on. You were so good at pretending everything was fine. But that night at the party after you caught me, it was different. I knew you weren't coming back to me. I knew everything was going to be different after that. So I was coming to your house to beg you to forgive me, to take me back, to please not let it change us. That I was sorry and it would never happen again, and I meant it."
Mason scoffed, but stayed silent. I knew Andy meant what he said; it was all over his face that he realized that whatever happened that night was a catalyst for us. But it didn't matter.
He scowled as he said, "My phone rang and I reached down to answer it from where it'd fallen from the middle console. It was you. You were calling...for some reason, and when I leaned back up, it was too late to stop."
I covered my mouth with my hands to keep the sob inside. No, no, no...I changed my mind. I didn't want to know. He continued anyway.
"I got out and there was so much blood, Emmie. So much blood. I checked your pulse and didn't find one. All I could think about was my parents and football and what everyone would say-"
"You son of a-" Mason growled and started toward him.
"I know it was selfish, OK, but I thought you were dead!" Andy yelled and held his hand up as Mason reached him. Mason gripped him by the shirt collar and reared back to punch him. "Go ahead! Hit me! Go ahead!"
Mason hesitated. Andy didn't even fight back. He lifted his jaw and wanted him to hit him.
"Why did you leave me there?" I heard myself say.
His face fell. "I thought you were dead."
"But she wasn't!" Mason defended.
"I'm not a paramedic! How was I supposed to know?"
"You're the reason she was in a coma," Mason kept the growling going. "If she hadn't have laid in the road and had a brain bleed, she might have been OK. But now we'll never know if you stole all that time from her or not."
"Whatever," Andy muttered and looked at me. "Why were you calling me, Emma? Why?" I stayed silent. "It's your fault this happened. Your fault that I've been eaten alive with guilt."
"Shut your face," Mason commanded and shook him. A song broke out and my breath caught in my throat. I began to shake and watched as Andy pulled his cell phone from his pocket. That's why that song haunted me. He had been reaching for his phone before he ran me down...
Mason looked back at me and I was frozen. That song...that song played through my brain like it was
that
night. I couldn't remember anything else and for once, I was glad. My body shook so much that my vision bounced. Mason squinted in indecision before pushing Andy back against the car. He pointed in his face and said, "We are not done yet."
He made his way back to me swiftly and ever so slowly reached his hands toward my face. "Em, baby," he soothed. "Breathe for me, OK. Just in slow and out slow. Deep breath in."
I obeyed and tried to get a grip on myself. I was due a freak out right? I hadn't had one in a while. He was still going with his pleas for me to calm down and relax, so I touched his cheek. "I'm OK."
He made a noise low in his throat. "You are not OK."
I could hear Andy mumbling behind him, but kept my eyes on Mason. I nodded as I told him, "I promise. I'm...all right."
He sighed harshly. "Emma, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
He looked kinda haunted and gulped. "Keep me from killing this guy."
"Mason-" I began to explain all the ways about how he was better than that and Andy wasn't worth it, but we heard a crash.
We turned in time to see Andy's car as he pushed it off the side into the steep ditch, and watched helplessly as it crashed into the water. I looked at him with a million questions in my eyes as he looked back at me. He smiled, a ghost of a tear on his cheek. "One less thing for my parents to have to deal with," he said, as if that explained everything.
Mason must've understood more than I did, because he said, "You don't have to do this."
"Yeah," Andy sighed and looked at my face with a smile that was more sad than anything. "Yeah, I do." He began to walk backward to the railing and my heart jumped into my throat. "Emma, you'll never know how sorry I am that I hurt you. I loved you, I did, I was just an idiot and I let idiots tell me how to run my life."
"Come on, man," Mason tried to stall and moved forward a few steps. "Let's just talk for a minute."
"I'd give anything to go back and not answer that phone. Why did you call me, Emma?" he yelled. "Why? I'd give anything to go back to that night. Anything! I'd have passed you on the road, picked you up, took you to your house and we'd have made up. We'd have made out in my car like we did a million times before and we'd be together now!"
"Andy, no," I denied.
"That's why I needed to make it up to you. That's why I've been so obsessed about seeing you and trying to be together because I didn't know any other way to make it up to you! I needed you to forgive me, even if you didn't remember. I needed you to let me know that you were OK. But you saw right through me, right through my bullcrap. Just like you did that night at the party when you said we were done. I knew it was hopeless. And then tonight...this guy..." He slung his arm out toward Mason, who had inched forward a little more. I clung to his back and watched the train wreck happen in front of my eyes. "I knew we were over. You looked at him like...the old you used to look at me." He rubbed his head. "God, Emma, I wish you all the happiness that you deserve." He smiled a little and another tear slid down his cheek. "Which is a lot."
He was only feet from the rail and Mason didn't wait any longer. He took off slowly after him in an easy manner, with his hands raised, nonthreatening. But it was too late...
"The night of your accident..." Andy's back hit the railing and I saw his shaky breath, "Damn, Emmie, I died right along with you."
And then he pushed off with his foot on the bottom rung, pushing himself over the railing, and let himself fall. I heard my plea, my useless cry for him to stop, but it was beyond too late.
Mason ran to the railing and looked down for long seconds. I couldn't move. I was stuck to my spot in utter disbelief. My feet moved without my permission, this need to see for myself blazing through my veins.
I stared down at the raging water below and watched for nothing and everything. There was no Andy, nothing to show the horrible thing he had just done. I felt beyond wretched. I didn't condone what Andy had done, in fact, it pissed me off so badly that I couldn't think straight that he'd do this to his family, but the fact that he was just gone and there was nothing left of him, nothing to show how sad and desperate he'd been...broke my heart for him.
I stared at that water...
I didn't even see Mason come to me, but I felt his hands on my face and jolted aware. The police lights whirred behind his head and I wondered how long I'd been like that.
"It's over, Em." Mason pulled me to him and let me bury my face in his warm neck. "It's over."
"Mason," I whispered and pulled away a little. He looked worried, like I was about to run. I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere," I reminded him, just like I told him before. "I just want you to take me home."
"Miss," a deep, brusque voice said. "You can't go home until we get a statement."
I sighed as Mason groaned in frustration and turned to the policeman. We both told them everything, from seeing Andy at the school, to the phone call, to coming there, Mason going off on him, and everything Andy said. Everything. Then how he jumped.
At some point, Mason must have called my mom, because she and Rhett showed up a few minutes later, and when they got there, she pushed the policeman aside and hugged me to her so hard. She pulled Mason, who hadn't left my side, into the hug, too. "Thank you for calling, Mason."
"Mom," I squeaked and she kissed my head as she began to sob.
"Oh, Emmie. What happened here?" She lifted her head and looked around. "What happened?"
I looked at Mason and he gave me a
sorry
face. "I couldn't tell her over the phone," he said in apology.
"What? What couldn't you tell me over the phone?" she asked in a high, aggravated voice.
"He... Andy, he..." I tried. I couldn't. There was no way.
I felt Mason's mouth on my ear. "I'll do it, baby. You just sit here and let me take care of it."
He moved me to sit in the open door of his car in the passenger's seat. I vaguely heard him as he and my parents discussed what had gone down. What Andy had done. How he just jumped, throwing his life away. He didn't say, however, how his last words were that he blamed me, that I was somehow responsible for not only my own coma and amnesia, but for his guilt as well. I felt my face crumple and my chest wracked with sobs that didn't belong there.
It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault that he wasn't paying attention and ran me over. It wasn't my fault that he thought I was dead and left me there. It wasn't my fault that I woke up after he assumed I would be in a coma forever. It wasn't my fault that I was a different girl who couldn't be who he wanted me to be.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
It wasn't my fault that he jumped.
Useless Fact Number Nineteen
Heinz ketchup leaves the bottle at twenty-five miles per year.
My chest hurt so badly and my lungs begged for air. I felt a hand on my cheek and looked up, ready to fall into Mason's hazels, but it was Rhett. He seemed confused and that just made me hurt even more. I turned away, pressing my cheek to the cloth seat, and saw out of the corner of my eye as he moved away and Mason took his place. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing our chests together, and let loose.
"What's wrong? Are you OK?" Rhett asked and tried to get in my line of sight. "Talk to me, Emma!"
"Rhett," Isabella tried, "just hold on. Emma, baby, talk to us. Are you going to be all right? Do we need to take you to the hospital?"
I shook my head, silently begging them to stop. I heard Mason say, "Just give her a minute, OK? She just needs a minute."
My chest ached with something I'd never felt before, and I was so confused by it, but it wasn't going away. It started small and the more I cried, the more it grew. It was like a slow burning fire that grew to an inferno. Mason understood and he held me to him so tightly and he whispered all the things people say when something awful has happened. But more importantly, he said he was there for me, that he wasn't going anywhere, and to take my time until I knew that it wasn't my fault. He stayed right there and never moved an inch. The police came to talk to my parents, and he let his hands smooth and soothe me up and down, and didn't ask me to speak. Just like in the hospice when everyone was freaking out over my 'breakdown', Mason knew it was just what I needed. He understood that I was in my own head and I was safe there. I'd come back when I felt like I could.