Bo touched the whiskey bottle to my arm. “My turn, licensed massage practitioner.”
“That’s ‘Miss Licensed Massage Practitioner’ to you, sir.” I smiled. “And how many times are you going to call me that? With as much time as you spent on the material, you could earn the title.”
“Nah. I’d make a horrible ‘Miss.’”
I shook my head. “You know what I mean.”
“Hey, just because I know the origin and the insertion point of the biceps femoris now…”
“Lies,” I said.
Bo deadpanned me. “Do you want me to tell you about it rising from the ischial tuberosity? How about it forming a thin aponeurosis that inserts into the deep fascia of the hind limb, the head of the fibula, the lateral tibial condyle, and,” he paused for dramatic effect, “yes, the capsule of the knee joint.”
“Very impressive.” I cradled the alcohol in the crook of my arm and applauded before taking a drink from my bottle of Valiant. “Just sayin’, you could’ve aced that test in Olympia today, too.”
“Hey, it’s your dream to rub naked people for money, not mine. My fate still lies in the NFL’s hands. But as weird as it sounds, it became one of my dreams to help you rub naked people for money. Now, are we gonna keep playing Truth or Dare or what?”
“Shoot.” I stumbled over a root and caught myself before falling.
“Truth or dare?
“Lemme think…” I stopped and closed one eye. “Dare.”
“I dare you,” he nudged me with his elbow, “to give me a massage when we get back to my place.”
“Nice angle.” I rolled my eyes. “You know, you can just ask for a back rub instead of wasting a perfectly good dare. Plus, I owe you a bajillion massages after your help.” I took a drink and heard bits of my question overlap. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he replied and lifted the bottle to his lips.
I thought hard. “Tell me a secret, something you’ve never told anyone.”
He shot me a knowing look.
“What? It’s valid!”
“It’s vague. Are you searching for an answer like, ‘Remember that time someone replaced your hair gel with warming lube— by the way, it was me’, or are you aiming for more depth?”
“Shut up! You did that?” I socked him in the shoulder. “I blamed Roxy. No wonder she gets so mad when I accuse her!”
“I know. That makes the whole thing ten times funnier.” He laughed. “All right. My turn again, Baby Girl.”
“Truth,” I replied without his prompt.
He faced me and caused us to stop walking. The mood shifted significantly, his usual humor absent. “What would happen if I kissed you? Right here. Right now.”
I stilled, unsure if that fell under the “truth” or “dare” category. Three murmurs came out in an unexpected stutter, and my chest constricted tighter with every second I didn’t reply coherently.
“Listen. I know, you’re scared.” The sincerity in his eyes matched the hope on his face. “But I’m not those other guys who hurt you up in Seattle.”
Our childish game of Truth or Dare lost its innocence. Everything happened so fast, clouded in a haze of confusion and alcohol. Bo’s fingertips trailed the curve of my jaw before he leaned forward and tilted my chin upward to brush his lips against mine briefly. Kiss number two harbored more intensity while he cupped my face with the warmth of his hands. The smell of cologne on his skin and whiskey on his breath ambushed me. In error, I kissed him back. I thought, if I did, I might’ve felt something. The defined boundary of our friendship muddied for the first time, forever changing our dynamic. Butterflies never fluttered. Sparks never ignited. Chemistry never shifted. Thinking back, I didn’t need his kiss to predict that outcome. I madly loved Mambo Rodriguez with all my heart, but I wasn’t in love with him.
Knowing I had to shatter him destroyed me. Roxy had said more than a dozen times Bo held feelings for yours truly, but I didn’t believe her. Maybe I didn’t want to believe her and chance losing Bo. We were such close friends, and I was careful to never lead him in any other direction. I pulled away and opened my eyes. “I know you’re not those guys, but I can’t—”
“Dare me to prove it?” he said with determination spelled out on his face.
“Bo… I think we’re done playing Truth or Dare.”
He thrust the whiskey my way and ran down the trail before turning around. More than buzzed, his direction zigzagged both left and right. “Out here?” Bo staggered backward with his arms wide. “I can’t scream it from any rooftops, but shouting how I feel about you to the sea is even better.”
I set the two bottles of alcohol down on the dirt and watched him. “Okay. I get it. Come back.”
But he kept going.
His declaration paired with the memory of his kiss left my cheeks and lips tingling with guilt. I covered my face with my hands, wishing I’d never brought up the idea of going to the park at night, in the rain, with two bottles of alcohol. “We’ve both had a lot to drink, and I don’t think you know what you’re—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Bo stopped near a break in the trees and faced the skyline. “I love Jade A’Lynn Nash, and I want the world to know it!”
I peeked through a gap between my fingers, wondering where we’d gone wrong and how many bandages it’d take to rectify the damage. He turned around and offered me his goofy grin— the grin I’d counted on, respected, and adored… as a friend.
Yet, as quickly as his smile appeared, it vanished, along with the rest of Bo, in the harshest magic trick I’d ever witnessed. His scream combined with another sound, one of ground crumbling. In disbelief, I’d watched part of the cliff break free from the rain-soaked earth.
“Bo!” Getting my feet to communicate with my head while drunk was difficult while I tried to race across the muddy ground. Twice, I slid in the thick muck and fell on my ass, pinecones and rocks biting deep into my palms. The pain didn’t stop me. I sprinted to the cliffside, the taste of fear and vodka bitter in my mouth. In retrospect, I pushed the limits and risked my own life on my hands and knees by peering over the side at a row of concrete blocks surrounded by rocky beach on either side. At any time, more of the overhang could’ve sacrificed me, too.
I screamed his name again, but the wind and rain had intensified. Both forces worked against me by stifling my voice. The brilliant moonlight showcased waves crashing like cymbals announcing a finale in an orchestra, sprays of white exploding upward. “Mambo!”
Nothing.
Frantically, I scrambled to find a route that wouldn’t require dying, but my quick choices were limited to one: jumping thirty-five feet to the unforgiving shore. “Fuck me,” I muttered. The only other approach I knew meant facing my fear of heights in another way by following a narrow switchback curving down the steep cliffside that fed back toward the beach. So, that’s what I did. Silently, I made a plea deal and begged gravity to hold me upright long enough to save Bo. It didn’t listen. More falling, bloodied knees, broken fingernails, a twisted ankle, and a severely impinged nerve that’d haunt me for years were my war wounds for finally reaching the access point where the path funneled wide onto a patch of sand.
“Bo!” I yelled, running through shin-deep water on the narrow sliver of rocky shore, icy droplets pelting my face. I didn’t slow down as I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed 9-1-1 with quaking fingers. When I hit SEND, a red X appeared in the upper left corner. The repetitious beep signifying no service sounded.
But I wouldn’t give up on my best friend. Not ever. That wasn’t how Bo and I started, and I was sure it wasn’t how we were meant to end. More running, more dialing, more scouring, more shouting, angling the phone higher with my arms overhead. I’d reached the cluster of cement blocks when I glanced up at the top of the cliff, confirmin
g it was where I stood a short time ago.
“Bo!” I bawled, my voice growing hoarse.
Still nothing.
The waves were choppy, the burning whisper of hypothermia penetrating deep in my bones. Their crests struggled to knock me down, but I fought back harder.
And then I saw it. Bo’s red jacket bobbed in the distance. I pushed my numb feet off the uneven beach and propelled myself forward until I reached him. Bo’s arms and torso appeared weightless, limply floating in the shallow water. I flipped him over— eyes shut, mouth slack, lips blue.
“Bo!” I patted his cheek. “Come on!” I tugged at his body, but a broad fissure in the aged concrete held one of his legs captive. I yanked, knowing the surf wanted to own him, too. With a few heaves and a growl, I won and dragged him to shore. Bo didn’t move. I laid him back and tilted his chin upward. “Can you hear me?”
More nothing.
I dialed the paramedics again. The lengthy pause that followed caused me to sob with relief.
The call connected. “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a woman said calmly.
I cried. “Help!”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“The beach. I mean, the south end of Jamison Beach. Between Wyatt Point and Shade Park. My friend, he fell off a cliff into the water. He’s hurt. Hurry.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to speak clearly and calmly. What’s—”
“Just use your GPS and find me!” I tossed the cell phone up the beach, leaving the line open.
Bo’s lifeless figure laid on the sand while I bravely shoved away my fear, performing two rescue breaths, and then chest compressions. Like a robot, I continued CPR, and wouldn’t stop until my body shut down. “Come on. You have to be okay. Don’t leave me.” Growing hopelessness and dwindling optimism battled each other, prickling my frozen fingertips. But a third opponent entered the playing field— reality. Deep down, I knew the truth. No number of bandages could fix the damage I’d mentioned earlier, regardless of Bo’s outcome.
* * *
Later that same night…
I’m not sure how long I sat on that rigid hospital chair with a heated blanket draped over my shoulders. To be honest, I’m not sure how it got there. Doctors came and left. Nurses stopped by to take Bo’s vitals. Scarce reassurance swirled in a faded echo while endless waves of shock crashed over me, pinning me below the surface in my own mind.
Much like Bo, I was lifeless and unable to react. My jeans were stiff with saltwater I refused to discard. My hair had dried into briny clumps I refused to push from my face. My scrapes stung, shoulder seared, and ankle throbbed with stabbing pain I refused to address. I deserved every ounce of hurt and suffering I could find. For so long, I stared at the bedside in front of me, praying and hoping for Bo to wake up.
He seemed so frail, so fragile.
If I wouldn’t have suggested a trip. Spontaneously.
If I wouldn’t have taken my test that day instead of on my scheduled date a week later. Spontaneously.
If I wouldn’t have brought alcohol. Spontaneously.
If I wouldn’t have thought it through… and just kept kissing him back. Spontaneously.
The disaster wouldn’t have happened. But it did happen… all because he loved me.
At that moment, I decided to never be impulsive again. I made a vow to myself. If Bo walked out of that hospital, I’d live out the rest of my life with structure— and without drinking.
“Miss Nash?” a nurse called from the doorway. “Can you come with me? We have a few more questions for you.”
I nodded and limped to the hall, letting the blanket fall from my shoulders without realizing it.
Bo’s mom, Millicent Rodriguez, saw me as she stepped off the elevator, but I couldn’t read her face when she hurried my way with her purse clutched tight in her hands. Disappointed. Terrified. Defenseless. The quiver in her lower lip paired with her embrace told me it was a combination of all three. However, I hadn’t earned any relief and pulled back from her hug.
A doctor approached from the opposite direction, wearing a white coat and a serious expression. His nametag read “Dr. Bitner.” “Miss Nash, can you go over what happened again?”
I honestly recounted everything, in raw detail, from the alcohol to Bo disappearing when the ground gave way. Every word spoken felt like I relived the painstaking event. I fumbled through my trip down to the beach, the rock pinning his leg, pulling him from the water, the CPR, and the medics arriving with the flashing lights in the distance. But I kept one detail under lock and key— when Bo announced he loved me.
The doctor jotted a few extra notes, but he didn’t speak.
“What?” I asked. “Is he going to be okay?”
The doctor’s gaze flicked over toward Millicent who gave a nod of approval before he turned to me again.
“Bo’s injuries are… complicated,” he said.
My fingertips dug deep into my flesh when I crossed my arms, and I needed that sharp pain until I had answers. “How complicated?”
“While radiologists haven’t found evidence of brain damage through the CT or MRI scans, there’s still potential for TBI until neuro-checks can be done.”
Millicent turned toward the doctor. “TBI?”
“Traumatic brain injury,” he replied. “And there’s possibility for other complications.”
“Such as…” I prodded.
“It varies from patient to patient and could be anything. Loss of balance. Nausea. Ringing ears. Memory loss. We just don’t know until he wakes up.”
Dr. Bitner added, “There’s—” The surgeon silenced his pager threatening to interrupt our conversation. “There’s no doubt about it, Miss Nash. You saved his life, and Mambo is incredibly fortunate. However, he also incurred a SCI.” He turned to Bo’s mom. “Spinal cord injury.”
I held my breath. “Where?”
“In his lumbar and sacral region, which impacts the lower half of the body.”
“How bad?” I cupped my hands over my mouth. “You can fix him, right?”
Dr. Bitner was silent, internally formulating an answer.
I waited to hear Bo would recover. It’s what I wanted to hear. No. It’s what I had to hear— no way around it. Air slowly deflated from my lungs as I recalled how much I struggled to pull him free so he wouldn’t drown. Did I do this to him?
The doctor affixed a pen to the clipboard. “When he’s awake, we may schedule a myelogram to assess the nerves for paralysis if we can’t rule out…”
Paralysis? While I understood most of the medical terminology he used, it didn’t compute. His lips moved, yet I didn’t hear an additional syllable. More detachment shattered me. With quaking knees and eyes scrunched shut, I let myself crumble to the floor, pressing my forehead against the cool tiles. Unrelenting sobs escaped my mouth. I drew attention, but I didn’t care. No. No, no, no! The doctor couldn’t have been more wrong. I didn’t save Bo’s life.
It was my fault.
My fault he was injured.
My fault he was in pain.
My fault he laid in that hospital bed.
My fault he may never walk again.
My fault his opportunity with a professional football team went uncertain.
After all of the work he’d done to help safeguard my career and my future, I’d tragically ended Bo’s.
* * *
“Whoa! Why is the ground moving so much?” My question and surprise came out in a smear of bewilderment. I bumped against the warmth of Seth’s frame while he let me hold onto his arm to keep my face from planting in the sand.
He’d led me away from the water with patient steps at half-stride. They were all I could manage in soggy clothes and with the world tilting.
“It
’s not moving,” he replied. “You’re intoxicated.”
“I am not intox… intoxi… intoxidrunk.” My teeth chattered while I looked up at Seth. The toe of my right sandal clipped my left heel and I tripped.
He lunged to catch me. Our closeness and the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and cedar made my breath hitch. Word salad spilled again. In a hot, full-forced whisper, I spoke a few inches from his ear, “You know, you’re not as bad as you want everyone to think.”
“First of all, you’re speaking in cursive with your vodkabulary. Second of all,” he winced, “we need to find you a breath mint. Third of all, and it’s not the first time I’ve said it, don’t talk about what you don’t know, Doc.” He crouched down in front of me. “C’mon.”
I closed my eyes to slow the spinning, but it backfired and shifted into hyperdrive. “Um. ‘C’mon’ what?”
“We’re both soaked. It’ll take us three hours to get back at your pace, so unless you want either of us to get hypothermia, I’m giving you a lift.”
“I don’t need a piggyback—”
Seriousness flashed within his eyes again. “Can you not be stubborn for once? I didn’t ask what you need; I’m telling you.”
Maybe it came from his tone. Maybe it came from the alcohol. Either way, I gave in, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck from behind while he held the backs of my thighs tight. He rose to his feet and his voice creaked from the prior night’s injuries.
I wasn’t convinced the new method of transportation went any faster, but I didn’t complain. The heat from his back radiated onto my chest and slowed my shivering. From my position, I was thankful he couldn’t see the twinge of a smile I desperately tried to fight off.
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