Surviving Us

by Erin Noelle

  She pulls out of the parking lot and turns the radio on, nodding like she hears me but isn’t buying what I’m saying. Sighing, I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes, focusing on the music. By the second verse, when Chris Martin sings something about go ahead and tear me a part, which then leads into “‘cause you’re a sky full of stars,” I can’t take it anymore. I abruptly turn the music off, then collapse back into the seat a teary mess. Alyvia rests her hand on my thigh to let me know she’s there, but says nothing.

  Crying on and off the rest of the afternoon, it seems my brain is making up for all of the time I wasn’t thinking about Davis yesterday and earlier today by inundating me with memories. Everything I do reminds me of him. I try to take a nap to hopefully reset a little before I go into Louie’s to make sure I’ve got my job back, but even then, I think about how wonderful it was to sleep next to him every night and how lonely my bed feels.

  I slide out of bed and retrieve the pouch hiding the jewelry Davis gave me I have hidden in the back of my panty drawer. Clutching it tightly in my fist, I crawl back under the sheets and hold it up next to my chest, wondering if my heart can survive the overwhelming emptiness I feel inside.

  4:44AM

  I WAKE UP ONE MINUTE before the alarm is set to go off, and I smile. A couple of weeks in and my body is finally getting used to this new schedule. Flipping the switch to the off-position, I leap out of bed and quickly throw on my athletic shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes. A quick brush of my teeth and splash of water on my face, and I’m out the door.

  For the entire five-and-a-half mile run, I think about how two weeks with one single person completely turned my life around. Bristol Criswell, in both her words and actions, made me realize it’s okay to mourn the loss of my friends’ lives, especially of the girl I once loved, but still make the most of the one I have left. She serves not only as my inspiration, but as my end goal. Before the plane crash, I was a determined, hard-working student athlete who lived life to the fullest. And that’s exactly what I plan to become again . . . hopefully with her by my side eventually.

  My legs slow to a relaxed jog as I head up the drive to the training center—the place I’ve spent nearly every waking moment in since I’ve been home. Eli waits for me at the door, having just unlocked it for the early-bird die-hards.

  “Morning, McKay,” he greets me with a big smile, checking his watch. “Time is getting better every day.”

  “Yes, sir,” I pant out through my labored breaths, hands on top of my head as I cool down. “All your torture is paying off.” He laughs as he turns the lights on inside the gym and I follow him inside, anxious to see what he’s got in store for me today.

  The summer before my junior year, colleges started seriously scouting me, and even though I always knew I was a great athlete, I wanted to be the best. My dad hired Eli as my strength and conditioning coach back then, who in a matter of weeks made huge strides in my quarterback skills set, as well as my overall stamina and endurance. So naturally, when I returned from St. Lucia with a newfound determination and plan, Eli was the first person I called.

  “How long are you here for today?” he calls out from his small office as I start my morning stretching exercises.

  “However long you are,” I shout back.

  “Good answer, kid.”

  I’m no fool. I know time is my biggest enemy right now. The chance I’m in shape enough to even attempt to walk onto any team this year is pretty minimal, but I refuse to give up. Not again.

  Eli tosses me a protein shake and granola bar as he rejoins me out in the main area. “Eat up, buttercup. I’m gonna rock your world today.”

  “You know I like it when you talk dirty to me, old man,” I banter back as I rip open the foil wrapper to my breakfast, momentarily distracting my mind to think of other foil packages, which subsequently leads me to remembering how Bristol looked and felt under me when I was buried deep inside her. I can’t fucking wait for that again.

  I miss her like I’ve never missed anything—her gorgeous smile, silky hair, sweet voice . . . every single thing about her. Each night, as the physical aches and pains consume me, I look at the pictures in my phone of us together, reminding myself of the end prize, and instantly have a renewed sense of purpose and tenacity. Putting my life of disarray back together again is like a jigsaw puzzle. First, I have to secure all of the corner and edge pieces, creating a stable framework, so when I return to her, she’ll slide perfectly into place, completing my whole.

  “Dude, seriously?” Eli’s voice yanks me from my daydream. My eyes snap up to his and he glances down at the chub I’m now sporting, obvious through my thin black shorts, then back up at my face.

  “Sorry, man,” I say, adjusting myself. “Fleeting thought.”

  “If you’re head’s with her now, then it’s not here, where it needs to be,” he points at my crotch, “in order for your other head and the rest of your body to be with her later.”

  I nod with understanding, knowing he’s right. “Got it.”

  This is why I haven’t contacted her since I’ve been back, even though it’s damn near killed me as I stare at her email address on the campus paper website every night. I need to focus on getting myself mentally, physically, and emotionally prepared to be the person she deserves. I only hope she still feels the same way about me when I show up in Oklahoma as she did in St. Lucia. I have faith what we had was real.

  Before Eli agreed to take me back on again, he insisted on knowing everything about what my goals where and why. I laid it all out for him—Bristol, OU, all of it. Thankfully, he welcomed me back and immediately drew up a program for me. We’ve been hitting it hard ever since, long before the sun rises each morning and not stopping until well after the sun goes down.

  All because a girl told me I deserved it. A girl who loves the color yellow, owns as many swimsuits as I do shoes, and shares my snarky sense of humor. A girl so beautiful, inside and out, she literally brought me to my knees trying to show her the stars. A girl who owns my heart and my future.

  After my twelve hour workout with Eli, I head home for a quick shower, dinner with my parents, and then back out again to do something I’ve needed to do for a long time. Though I dread the conversation that’s about to take place, I know it’s absolutely necessary in order for me to truly put the past behind me and move on.

  I park my car on the U-shaped drive outside the familiar white brick estate and slowly climb out. Hoping both Mr. and Mrs. Parks are both here so I can get this over with in one visit, I nervously tread up to the front door, ring the bell, and wait. Less than a minute later, Mrs. Parks opens the door with a sad smile and invites me in.

  “Good evening, Davis,” she says politely as I step into the grandiose foyer. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What brings you by?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Parks,” I reply with a tight smile. “Yes, it’s been quite some time, which is why I’m here to talk to you and Mr. Parks. Is he home tonight?”

  She tilts her head, as if she’s thinking whether or not to tell me the truth, but eventually nods. “He’s in the study upstairs. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the family room and I’ll go get him?”

  Making my way over to the massive den area, which isn’t really a family room at all considering when I used to spend many evenings here neither Mr. nor Mrs. Parks ever spent any time in there, and take a seat on the couch. After several minutes of nervously popping all of my knuckles and wringing my hands out, they descend down the stairs together and enter the room, neither looking too pleased with my presence.

  “Mr. McKay,” Mr. Parks announces his arrival in a deep baritone, “my wife says you stopped by to talk to us. I hope this won’t take long; I’m in the middle of some work right now.”

  I stand up to shake his hand, but he ignores me and sits in the recliner opposite from me. She props herself on the arm of his chair, staying close to his side, portraying their united front against me.
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  Clearing my throat, I begin talking, saying what I came to say so I can leave. “Mr. and Mrs. Parks, I’m aware that you haven’t wanted to talk me since the accident because I’m sure seeing me dredges up painful memories of Emma. The same goes for me when seeing you—this isn’t easy for any of us.” I pause to catch my breath, then continue.

  “I have no doubt you’ve asked yourselves why my life was spared that day and hers wasn’t. Believe me, for the last two years I’ve asked myself the same thing every day, but for me it’s not just her life, but that of Jason, Mel, and the pilot’s as well. And though I don’t have a good answer for you, I want you to know that I would’ve traded places with any of them, especially Emma.” I swallow hard, trying desperately to hold the tears at bay.

  “I know you didn’t approve of my college choice, and I can’t tell you where my and her future together was heading for sure, but I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty that I loved your daughter very much. She was a huge part of my life when I was maturing from a boy to a young man, and I have no doubt she will always hold a special place in my heart.

  “For the last two years, I’ve given up on myself because of the guilt I placed on myself for that plane crash.” My voice cracks as I see Mrs. Parks begin to cry. “I know that trip was my idea, and there won’t be a single day in my life that I don’t wish I never would’ve suggested it, but the truth is what happened was an accident. It could’ve just as easily occurred in a car on our way to somewhere else.”

  “We know that, honey,” she says through her muffled sniffles. “We don’t blame you for what happened at all, but as you said, seeing you reminds us of her, and for a long time, it really hurt. We just didn’t know what to say to you . . . what can you say after something like that happens?”

  “I understand completely which is why I’m here today, even though it’s taken me a couple of years to get myself together enough to do that.”

  “I hope you continue to get yourself together, son,” Mr. Parks finally says. “Hanging out in your parents’ house acting like a bum isn’t the answer.”

  “No, sir. I realize that now. I’ve been working very hard lately to get my life back together. I’ve reapplied to OU with hopes to be accepted for the spring semester, and I’m working out with Eli again. My dream is still to play football on a collegiate level.”

  He nods his approval and offers a small smile. “Even though I’m still not happy about the OU part, I’m happy for you and hope it all works out.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “May I ask what spurred this recent turn of events?” she asks. “Not that I’m not pleased to see the positive changes.”

  This is the part I’ve been most worried about, but I promised myself I’d tell them the truth. “A few weeks ago I went on an inspirational retreat for fellow survivors—others who have lived through catastrophic events similar to mine, and it changed my outlook on life completely,” I explain. “While I was there I met a girl who survived a tornado when she was a young child that claimed her entire family, as well as most of the people in her neighborhood. By some strange coincidence, she’s about to start her sophomore year at OU, and the two of us really hit it off. Not only were we able to help each other see the parts of life we were missing out on by allowing our guilt to control us, but we connected on a completely different level as well.” I look up at both of them, almost apologetically. “I fell head over heels in love with her, and now I’m trying to be the man she deserves.”

  Mrs. Parks slaps her hand over her mouth as a sob escapes the back of her mouth. She jumps up and rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me in a big hug. “I’m so happy for you, Davis. I truly mean that,” she cries. “Our Emma would want you to be happy and to move on. I’m happy you’ve found someone who can understand what you’ve been through and that you two can support each other. That’s one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever heard.”

  I look over her shoulder at Mr. Parks to gauge his reaction, and he smiles and gives a thumbs up. There aren’t words to describe the relief that washes over me. With their blessing along with my own parents’, I feel as if I can leave here without any unresolved issues tugging at my conscience.

  LOUIE’S IS EXACTLY AS I remember it—busy. After securing my old job on Saturday evening, I was happy to pick up the same Wednesday through Friday dinner shift schedule I worked last semester. Now, at the end of my first shift back, both my feet and head are killing me; not to mention, I’ve got a shiny layer of grime—a combination of grease from the kitchen and spilled drinks throughout the night—coating all of my exposed skin. All I want to do is go home, shower, and sleep, but Alyvia, Lucky, and Mo are all sitting around a table, waiting for me to get off and join them, and I’d feel like a bitch if I didn’t hang out with them for at least a little while.

  Once my money is counted, I say goodnight to my boss and clock out, trudging my feet back out to the bar area. Lyv’s face lights up when she sees me round the corner, jumping off her stool and bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

  “Yay! You’re off!” She hugs my neck as soon as I reach their table. “Do you want to walk over to Deli? Lucky says he can get us all in. Or we can go back to our apartment and watch a movie or something.”

  I know she’s trying her hardest to play matchmaker with me and Mo, thinking it will help get my mind off of Davis. I appreciate her effort, I really do, but I’m just not ready to let it go yet. However, I know that I can’t sit at home crying in my room all the time either, so I compromise.

  “If we could hang out at our place, that would be great,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I’d love to be able to take a shower and change out of these clothes, and then relax a while.”

  “Good idea. I didn’t even think about that. Since you have your own car, why don’t you drive with Mo, and Lucky and I will stop at the store to get some snacks and drinks?”

  She’s relentless. There’s nothing I can do except agree without sounding like a total bitch.

  “Yeah, that works.” I glance over at Mo. “Come on, Big Mo. It looks like you get to ride in the Ladybug.”

  He grins. “Awesome. Sounds buggy.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  The four of us stroll out to the parking lot together, Lucky and Lyv breaking off when we reach his truck, leaving me and Mo alone for the first time as we slide into my red Mini Cooper. Thankfully, he’s able to fold his massive frame into the passenger seat with it pushed back as far as it goes. However, I’m not sure if comfortable would be the right word to describe his posture. I try not to giggle, but I fail miserably.

  “Laugh it up, Flaca,” he teases with a goofy smile. “I’ll get you back somehow.”

  Before I turn the car on, I decide to address the situation, just to ensure things don’t get weird between us. Twisting to face him, I stop laughing and bite my lip nervously. “Mo, can we talk about something real quick?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’ve had so much fun these past few days hanging out with you, Lyv, and Lucky—the nights at Deli, chillin’ at the apartment, going to the movies, all of it,” I say with complete honesty. “Not to mention, I love finally having someone to talk about each day’s practices with, since you’re a part of it, and can give me even more insight than what I see on the sidelines. But, I’m afraid Lyv thinks she’s playing matchmaker with the two of us.”

  He chuckles and nods. “Ya think?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur softly. “This summer, I met someone and fell hard for him, but we don’t live close, and well, I’ve been a little heartbroken over the whole thing. She thinks if I move on, preferably with you, I’ll just forget about him and get over it.”

  “Bristol,” he affectionately rests his hand on my shoulder, “please don’t worry about it. I understand. Truly. The reason I wasn’t supposed to be at the apartment until Sunday night is because I was back home with my girlfriend . . . or ex-girlfriend now, I guess. She broke things
off with me last Friday night, and I got pissed, so I drove on up here—hence which is why I showed up in the middle of the night.”

  I exhale a huge breath of relief. “Oh, thank God,” I mutter. “Wait, not thank God your girlfriend broke up with you. I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us, ‘cause I really do love hanging out.” My face is bright red with embarrassment over my poor word choice; I can feel the heat rising from my neck into my cheeks.

  Mo laughs, at first a light laugh, but it soon turns into a hard belly laugh that damn near shakes my whole car. Naturally, I join in, and before I know it, we’re both a crying mess of hilarity, all while sitting in my car in the parking lot of my job.

  “We’re a pair, Flaca,” he says when he finally catches his breath, squeezing my arm soothingly.

  “Indeed,” I agree, finally starting the car and pulling out onto the street.

  “And just for the record, you’re way too skinny for me. I like my girls to have some meat on their bones and an ass I can grab onto,” he teases me. “I’d be too afraid I’d break you.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. “Oh shuddup! I’m not that skinny.”

  “Are too.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  We playfully bicker the entire drive to my apartment, and then to prove how skinny I am, Mo carries me with one arm up all three flights of stairs. Memories of Davis throwing me over his shoulder and bounding up the endless steps at the Ti Kaye beach instantly enter my head, reminding me yet again how much I miss him. What I wouldn’t give to see him one more time . . .

  Later that night, I’m lounging on the couch watching SportsCenter with Mo as we both pretend not to notice the moaning coming from Alyvia’s bedroom, where she and Lucky disappeared to shortly after the movie.

  “I want to be her when I grow up,” I state matter-of-factly when Sara Walsh appears on the screen. “She’s the ultimate package of a female sports reporter.”