The Time Until

by Casey Ford

  There’s a flutter in my stomach as I watch Sam dab at my knee with a cloth. I don’t even feel the pain anymore. I want to touch her auburn hair, but I force my hands to stay still. I don’t want to scare her.

  After placing a Band-Aid over the cut, she slowly rubs her thumb in a circle over it, making it stick. Pins and needles run from her soft movement all the way up to my head. She stands up quickly, placing her hands on her hips.

  “There you go, pansy,” she says. “All better.” Then she flashes a huge smile, shaking me to my core. She’s so pretty.

  This is the moment I know I’m going to love this girl for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Three

  Present Day

  The whispering is really starting to get on my nerves. They woke me up from a really good dream. I groan loudly and a hand slides into mine. For a second, I think it might be Sam’s and my heart skips.

  I strain to open my eyes. The first thing I notice is that I can only see out of one side of my face and it’s blurry. I blink a few times and the images clear. My parents are standing by my bed with a doctor. Mary and Nate – Sam’s parents, Mary is actually her adoptive mother — are at the foot of my bed.

  My entire body feels heavy and groggy, so when I turn my head a little it makes my brain feel like it’s being flushed down a toilet. The room spins for a time and the black spots make a reappearance, but I manage to stay awake. As I try to sit up, I let out another groan. My mother rushes up to help me. This is when I notice that my right arm is in a cast and wrapped in a sling close to my body.

  I reach up to find out why I can’t see out of my left side, but I have a fairly good guess. My arm feels like it’s tied to lead weights and someone replaced it with someone else’s limb, feeling like it’s detached and foreign. The IV tugs as I move and a small prick of pain warns me to stop. I adjust my arm slightly, and I can now reach my left side. A quick physical inspection reveals that my entire head, and most of the left side of my face, is wrapped in bandages.

  Images of the crash start flashing though my head and I remember my legs having no feeling. I try wiggling my toes and the bedding starts to move in response. A wave of relief washes through me. Images of Sam from the crash make the relief short lived. I look up at her parents.

  “How’s Sam?” I ask with my scratchy throat and accidently harsh voice. I go into a coughing fit from those two words, but not before I catch the look that crosses their faces. Pain and uncertainty. A large mug of water with a straw appears in front of me and I use it to soothe the sand paper in the back of my throat.

  “Please, tell me Sam is okay.” No one can look me in the eyes. Even the doctor tries to find something to do to avoid me. A large lump forms in the pit of my stomach. I remember seeing a lot of blood and the paramedics were doing CPR. Did it not work? Were they too late? I think I feel my eyes – eye — start to water. A soft sob escapes my throat before I can bite it down and my mother wraps me in a big hug. Her comforting voice only makes it harder to keep from crying. A few deep breathes later and I have it all under control.

  For the most part.

  “She’s still in surgery, but they seemed hopeful a few hours ago,” Nate informs me, his voice low and strained. It must take all his training to hold in the sobs I can hear behind his voice.

  Sam is in surgery?

  There is something else, but I can’t place it. There is a simmering, fiery feeling in my chest.

  I’m alarmed that I don’t feel anything — except where Sam is concerned — about what’s happening. A crazy person hit me, Sam is in surgery fighting for her life, I’m laid up in a hospital bed bandaged, and all I feel is detached. I’m positive I should be feeling more about this. I search inside myself for it, but I can’t find anything more than a slight tug in my heart.

  That scares me a bit.

  “She’s not out of the woods yet, Son,” Nate notes, snapping me out of my thoughts. “She still has to survive the surgery.”

  His voice catches a little and I think I’m the only one who catches it. “If she can.”

  I don’t know what to say to them. I’m sorry comes to mind fairly quickly. No… It’s not my fault that asshole in the truck wasn’t paying attention and ran the red light. It may have been my idea to go to that park so late, but I didn’t exactly plan to get creamed by a moron on the way home. This was supposed to be our night. Just thinking about that guy and what happened causes that fire ball in my chest to flare. Now I’m feeling something. Rage.

  I start to ball my fists, though the right hand is still very weak it can move. I have to get myself under control, I realize, unclenching my fists slowly. It’s a little harder to do than I remember it being in the past.

  Calm down. Sam is still in surgery and they were hopeful a few hours ago.

  I’m better than this. I’m the calm and collected one.

  A few hours?

  “Wait… How long have I been out?”

  “Eight hours.” It’s the doctor’s turn to speak.

  That number surprises me.

  How long has Sam been in surgery?

  “How bad is it?” I fall back in to the bed, out of my mom’s embrace, but she remains by my side with a hand on my shoulder. The doctor takes a moment to look at the chart.

  “You’re very lucky to be alive,” he begins, but I don’t want to hear about me. I want to hear about Sam.

  “You suffered a severe concussion and cracked skull. Unfortunately, you lost the use of your left eye–”

  “What do you mean I lost the use of my left eye?!” I interrupt a little louder than I intended. My mom’s hand grips my shoulder tighter at my outburst.

  “You had embedded glass in your eye,” he explains, cocking an eyebrow.

  I have no left eye? I absent-mindedly reach up and touch the bandage over my eye. My missing eye. I can’t even think about that right now. It’s too much. I can feel that fireball in my chest growing. That bastard took my eye from me as well as everything else. Wait a minute! Shit. My scholarship.

  I need both my eyes to play soccer. If I can’t play soccer, then my scholarship gets revoked. No scholarship, no college. No college, no degree. What am I going to do?! I decide to cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, I want to focus on more immediate concerns. I look around and notice that everyone is watching me.

  “Sorry.” I gesture to the doctor to continue. He nods his head.

  “Right. Besides your eye and concussion, you have a compound fracture in your right arm. Your forearm was broken in multiple places. We believe the airbag may have forced your arm into your head.” He doesn’t really have to try to explain what happened, I don’t really care.

  I don’t care?

  “We set the bone and placed some pins to hold them in place. Unfortunately, we can’t do anything about the tendons yet. With time and physical therapy you should be able to hold a pencil again.” Unfortunately must be his favorite word. Great, so now I can’t use my hand either. I’m right handed too. The only way this could get any worse is if they come in and tell us that Sam died during surgery.

  Idiot! You just cursed it! Sam yells in my head. I mentally slap my forehead.

  I am an idiot because right then a nurse knocks on the door and calls Nate and Mary. They get up and go into the hallway. I squeeze my eyes shut at my stupidity. How many times has something happened when I mentioned it? Too numerous to count.

  Nate and Mary return after what feels like hours of waiting. I’m practically sitting on the edge of my bed hoping for good news about Sam. The expression on their faces is not at all encouraging and I feel my heart sink.

  “Sam… survived the surgery,” Mary starts, but breaks down before she can say more. Definitely not a good sign, but at least the first part of the information is good. She’s alive! Anything after that is just an obstacle that we can overcome. Nate pulls her into his chest and holds her while he finishes.

  “They repaired her lung and kidney. Her arm and legs
are crushed. She’s being moved to a private room at the moment. She…” He swallows a lump in his throat and squeezes Mary a little tighter. She offers no complaint as she returns his embrace.

  “She didn’t wake up from the anesthesia. Apparently, there was a lot of pressure on her brain. She’s not waking up.” I’m shocked and can’t really comprehend this information. I place this news and all appropriate responses into a ball and add it to my chest. I’m sure I should be emotional about this, but I don’t feel anything at the moment. It’s like I’m a blank slate.

  Nothing.

  “Does that mean what I think that means, Sir?” I ask. Mary nods into Nate’s chest, but Nate is the one who answers.

  “She’s in a coma, Son.” The silence that follows is dark, heavy, and completely fills the room.

  Chapter Four

  Present Day

  “A coma?” I need clarification. I don’t have any experience with comas.

  “Yes. They say she’s completely unresponsive.” That’s something else I can’t comprehend.

  Sam is the most active person I know. She plays three sports – if you count running as a sport. She’s part of a committee in her sorority. Truth be told, I have no idea what she does in the sorority, but she’s always planning something with them. And she never misses an opportunity to come home and visit or just hang out with me. Trying to get Sam to sit still is harder than getting a two-year-old to do it.

  “We were just about to go see her,” Mary says as she peels herself out of Nate’s embrace. “She should be moved by now.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I agree, and before anyone can stop me, I get out of bed. Actually, it’s more like a really awkward scoot, then a slow slide off the edge, and finally a rapid descent to the floor when my legs decide to rebel and stop working. Luckily, my mother is there to catch me. The room is no longer spinning. No. It’s a tornado and I’m holding on for dear life. Then the pain kicks in or kicks my ass, either is fine. They both hurt.

  I’m seriously rethinking the whole getting out of bed thing.

  “Whoa, Son, maybe you should hold off on getting up for a bit,” Nate says, concerned.

  “I think I might have to do that, Sir.” I flinch as I adjust my position after laying back. My mom hovers over me with a concerned look on her face.

  “It’s okay, Mom.” I shut my eyes to hopefully stop the spinning. “I doubt I’ll be trying to get out of bed for a while now.” She doesn’t look convinced — most likely remembering the time they tried to separate me and Sam when we were kids — but she nods and eases back on her hovering.

  The pain starts to subside, but that failed attempt at getting up really took a lot out of me. It’s a battle to keep my eyes open.

  “I think I’ll just rest for a bit.” My neck feels like a wet noodle, so I keep my eyes closed to stave off the dizzy spell. “I’m suddenly feeling really tired.” My dad grunts as if he knows what’s happening.

  “It’s most likely the pain meds. They definitely wipe you out.” It feels like such a pain to answer him, so I allow my head to fall forward in a lazy nod of agreement.

  “I think we’ll go with you and let Alan get some rest,” my mom says turning to the Cohn’s. Mary nods.

  “I think that would be a great idea, Sara.”

  Sara, my mother, turns back to me and gives me a hug.

  “We’ll be back.” I manage to get a hand up to her back for a quick pat.

  “I’ll be here.” I can feel the space between us when she leaves. I didn’t realize how comforting my mother is when she’s being, well…comforting.

  “See you later, Squirt.” My father gives his manly goodbye with his childish nickname for me. It’s the one I don’t like since I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t respond and just half-ass raise my good fist in the air in acknowledgement.

  I’m rapidly losing the battle to stay awake and sleep claims me almost before they leave the room.

  10 Years Ago (Age 10): July

  “With what you just told me about what’s going on, I think it might be a good idea to separate Sam and Alan,” Nate says and my heart sinks. I used to love Nate almost as much as I love my parents. I don’t like him a whole lot right now. I can’t believe I just heard that when I decided to eavesdrop. Good thing Sam isn’t here with me. She would be on her feet and yelling at them before I could stop her.

  “Are you sure that’s the best option?” my mom asks. “I mean they are a little too close for being so young, but separation?”

  “They just turned ten years old. If not now, how are they going to handle the separation later when they have more time to grow closer?” He draws a breath. “They’re already one step down the aisle as it is.” My mom nods in agreement.

  “They are really close,” my mom agrees, “it worries me sometimes how close they’ve become since Emily.” She seems to contemplate for a minute. “Okay, I’ll talk it over with John tonight and we’ll figure out the best way to go about it.”

  “Honestly I think we should just rip the Band-Aid.”

  “Just keep them apart?” Nate nods. I have had about all I can handle of this conversation. Slowly, I leave the room. I don’t like the conversation their having at all, I don’t think I can stay away from Sam if I wanted to. I’m hiding in my room when I hear Nate finally leave and my parents start heading up the stairs.

  This is not going to be a good night.

  “I can’t believe they want us to stop being friends!” I knew Sam would be like this. I can tell she angry – even though she’s hanging upside down on the monkey bars – because she’s got her arms folding in front of her and she’s yelling.

  “I’m only allowed to see you at school,” she continues, “he told me no more weekends. We’re not even allowed to walk home together.” I nod because I had almost the same exact speech from my parents last night. So here we are, in the playground of the school and talking about the arguments we had with our parents.

  Sam suddenly flips off the bars, lands on her feet and looks at me.

  Uh oh. I know that look.

  “I got it!”

  I groan. Whenever she has this look, I usually end up in trouble or hurt – or both. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those ideas where I’ll be grounded for years.

  I just walk away.

  “No. Come on, Al!” Sam yells after me. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet.”

  “I know that look, Sam.” I turn around to face her. “It always means trouble for me.” Sam walks right up to me and her mischievous grin that never fails to send chills down my back is spread across her face. She knows the moment I turned around was the moment that she won.

  “You’re going to love this one though.”

  As I groan and hang my head in defeat, I can already hear my parents yelling at me.

  I’ve done this just about every night for the past month and I still can’t get used to the height. Sam’s brilliant idea is for us to sneak out at night to see each other. After a month of climbing out my window and down the tree next to my room, I’ve actually started to think this plan is a good one. We meet at the park down the street from both of our houses – Sam is on the other side of the park from me.

  I have to cross a major street in the middle of the night to get to the park. It scares me sometimes since it seems like people don’t notice the stop sign at the intersection. It’s not a really big problem since I always look both ways — something my mother drilled into my head.

  As I get to the crosswalk, Sam is waiting for me on the other side. She’s cradling her arm, but smiling so big it’s almost noon. I can never resist grinning when I see that look.

  She definitely does something to me.

  Which is why I completely ignore my mother’s advice.

  I wave at her as I cross the street and she starts to wave back when I hear the screeching of tires making me turn and look. Before I even know what’s happening, I feel myself rolling over the hood of the car
and off the windshield. I’m not even human anymore, I feel like a giant lump of pain. I can’t move, and frankly, I don’t want to. I just want to stare at the sky for a long time.

  I hurt everywhere.

  “Al!” Sam appears in front of me, crying. I want to reach up and wipe the tears away or even let her know that everything is alright, I just need to rest for a little while, but for some reason my body isn’t listening to me. I try to talk to her but my mouth doesn’t open. Everything aches.

  “Oh my God! Is he alive?” a man exclaims. I think he’s the driver of the car. Of course I’m alive. The misery I’m in proves that. Sam is my voice on this one though.

  “Yes! He’s alive!” Sam yells at him. “He can’t die. He can’t…” She starts to sob and the man pulls out his phone.

  “You can’t leave me too, Al.” Sam whispers in my ear. “I need you.”

  “You’re mine remember,” she continues to plead squeezing me tighter, “you are not allowed to leave me alone.”

  I want to tell her that I’ll never leave her and the misery on her face causes me more pain than anything I’m going through right now. The pain is preventing me from speaking and moving. The air is cold and I can feel it getting colder despite all the pain my limbs are in. I hear Sam sobbing, but she sounds really far away and the sky seems to get darker. Each star blinking out as the blackness of night swallows it up. I try to stay wake, but it’s very hard to do. My eyelids grow heavier and heavier as my vision starts to fade.

  Slowly the pain subsides and darkness surrounds me.

  “She wouldn’t leave his side at all. We had to sedate her when he went into surgery.” Who is that?

  It’s really hard to breath, but at least I’m not in as much pain as I was before. I try to adjust my uncomfortable position, but something is holding me in place. Opening my eyes, I blink a couple of times to adjust to the light.