The Secret History of Us

by Jessi Kirby

  We all sit back down, and I swear the air feels different with Walker there. Charged. I can even see it in the deep breath Dana takes and the extra-wide smile she plasters on. She didn’t mention this when we arrived, and I wonder if it was a surprise even to her. Either that or she intentionally didn’t tell us he’d be here. I glance at Matt, wondering if he would’ve agreed to come on had he thought there was a chance Walker actually would show up.

  He reaches for my hand again, and it brings me back to us, here and now. I take it and lean into him the tiniest bit, because all of a sudden I feel incredibly self-conscious sitting there in the middle of the couch between him and Walker, who has put himself as far away from me as possible.

  Dana, who is watching us all very carefully, seems to take this as her cue.

  “Walker, thank you so much for being with us today.” She looks at me. “Olivia, there must be so much going through your mind right now. This is the first time since the accident that you’ve come face-to-face with the person who saved your life. What does that feel like?”

  “I . . .” I look at Walker, then at Matt, then back at Dana. I have no idea how to answer this—not just because I can’t pin down what I’m feeling, but because Matt’s hand squeezes tighter around mine.

  Walker clears his throat and speaks for the first time. “We both pulled her in.”

  Dana nods, but it’s dismissive. “Yes, but I think it’s safe to say that she wouldn’t be here today if not for you. So let’s go back to that night, back to the moment you knew something was wrong. You were coming in from a fishing run just after the accident, correct?”

  Walker glances at me, then looks back at Dana. “Sure.”

  “What did you see?”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a puff. Sits back against the couch and avoids making eye contact with any of us. “I saw the truck on the bridge. People all lined up, looking over. And then the lights underwater.” He glances across me, at Matt. “I heard him yelling.”

  Dana turns to Matt. “At that point, you’d seen his boat coming in?”

  “Yeah,” Matt answers. His tone is curt. Tense. He knows what’s coming next. We all do.

  Dana turns back to Walker. “So you heard him yelling, and headed in that direction?”

  “Yeah, I took the boat over and was trying to get him up on it, but he didn’t want to go.”

  Dana nods, looking at Matt sympathetically. When she speaks, her voice is more serious. “Because Olivia was still stuck inside the car.”

  It’s not a question, but Walker and Matt say yes from both sides of me.

  “And that’s when you jumped in?”

  Walker nods.

  “I don’t think most people would’ve done that,” Dana says. “Do you have any formal rescue training? Is that a part of working on a fishing crew?”

  Walker looks irritated. “No.”

  “How did you know you’d be able to get to her? I mean, what about the depth of the water?”

  Walker shrugs. “I didn’t know. But the lights weren’t that far from the shore, so I thought there was a chance.”

  “And there was, wasn’t there? You were able to get to her,” Dana says, like she’s building up to a big moment.

  “Yeah,” Walker says, clearly not interested in giving it to her.

  “What was that like?” she presses.

  He takes another impatient deep breath, like he doesn’t want to tell the story, or like he’s had to tell it too many times, I can’t tell which.

  “Cold. Dark. But I could see her arms and her hair, floating in the light.”

  A chill runs through me at the image.

  “I tried to get her out through the window, but her seat belt was stuck.”

  “Is that how you injured your arm?” Dana asks, motioning at him.

  I look over at him and notice the bandage on one of his forearms.

  “Yeah,” he says with a shrug.

  My chest squeezes. This happened to him too.

  “So what happened next?” Dana asks.

  “I had to come up for air. And I grabbed the knife out of my belt.” He pauses. “Then I dove down again and cut the seat belt.”

  “And we all know what happened after that,” Dana says, moving the story along. “We’ve all seen the chilling footage of this heroic rescue.”

  Perfectly on cue, the shaky footage unfreezes, and I brace myself, keenly aware of the studio cameras on me. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it, it still puts a knot in my stomach. I try to keep my expression neutral as we watch Walker, swimming with my body to the boat, where he and Matt drag me up onto the deck, and then Matt paces frantically.

  I feel Matt’s hand tighten around mine again. I squeeze back and try to keep my breathing even.

  On the other side of me, Walker shifts again and looks away from the screen, and for a second I have the impulse to reach my other hand out to him because it seems like it’s hard for him to watch too.

  But then on the screen, he rips my shirt open and starts compressions, and Matt crumbles to his knees, both hands in his hair.

  We all flinch.

  “That’s enough,” Walker says, but the video doesn’t stop playing, and not one of us seems to be able to stop watching.

  Walker’s hair falls over his eyes as he leans over my body, using all his weight to pump my chest. And then Matt yells something and charges him. They both fall to the deck of the boat, roll, and then in one swift movement, Walker’s fist cocks back and swings forward at Matt, landing square on his cheek.

  I glance at Matt, at the remains of the bruise there in that spot.

  On the screen, Walker gets back up and scrambles over to me, puts an ear to my chest, then blows two breaths of air into my mouth. He goes back to the compressions while Matt lies crumpled on the boat deck.

  The frame freezes, and silence hangs over us all for a moment.

  Dana’s not smiling anymore, and her voice is serious when she speaks. “Matt . . . Walker . . . do you want to tell us what happened between you two in that moment? I mean why, in the middle of a life-and-death situation, did you end up in a scuffle?”

  Matt’s jaw tightens, and he stares down and ahead of him, at some invisible spot the rest of us can’t see. “I panicked,” he says. He looks at me. “I heard her ribs cracking, and I panicked. I thought he was hurting her.”

  He leans forward and looks past me to Walker. “I wasn’t thinking, going after you like that—I overreacted, and I don’t blame you for . . .” He shakes his head.

  Dana lets his sentence hang unfinished for a moment. I watch Walker for some sort of reaction, to try to get a read on him, but he sits statue-still in his chair, his expression unchanging.

  “Do you think maybe you overreacted as well?” Dana asks him. She looks at the screen, which replays just the punch, this time in slow motion, before it freezes again.

  Walker glances at Matt, then looks at Dana. “No,” he says flatly. “But you do, I guess.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Dana backpedals. “I mean, things like that can happen in the heat of the moment.”

  We’re all quiet, and Walker just looks at her, unblinking.

  “I had to,” he says, with a note of finality.

  Dana gives an almost imperceptible nod, and the video comes back on. For a few more seconds, Walker pumps on my chest, and Matt stays where he is on the deck of the boat, and then a voice behind the camera says, “That girl is gone. There’s no way she’s gonna live.”

  The screen goes black and Dana looks us all over carefully, without saying anything. I can feel the camera panning over our faces just as she is.

  When she’s stretched the moment for maximum drama, she turns to the camera and repeats the last thing said on the video in a low, serious voice, enunciating every syllable. “There’s no way that girl is going to live.”

  Now she turns to me. “Most people who witnessed that probably would’ve said the same thing. But yo
u did, and you’re here, and you’re okay. All thanks to him.” She motions at Walker, who now avoids making eye contact with any of us.

  “How did you know what to do?” she asks him.

  I see his jaw tighten as he looks at the ground. “I’ve done it before,” he says flatly.

  “Really?” Dana seems genuinely surprised. “Where and when was that? Was it on the fishing boat? Out on the water?”

  “No.” Walker levels his eyes on her in a way that I think we all understand as “Stop asking me questions.”

  There’s a brief moment when I think she’s going to press the matter, but then she backs off and turns her attention to me.

  “So, Olivia, let’s talk about how it actually feels to see what happened to you. It’s got to be completely surreal.”

  I want to tell her that showing the video without warning us feels like a cheap way to try to sensationalize her segment, that it wasn’t necessary to make us sit here and watch it together, hoping for a reaction. But I don’t. And this is a question I can actually answer. “It is surreal,” I say. “It’s like I’m watching someone else.”

  She nods with exaggerated empathy. “It’s interesting that you say that. I was thinking of what that voice said at the end: ‘That girl is gone.’ Do you think there’s any truth to that?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I just have to imagine that experiencing something as traumatic as this accident, and surviving, seems like it would have the potential to change your life in a very fundamental way. Is that girl gone? Have you changed?”

  She pauses, giving me—or any of us—space to agree. All I can think of is that she doesn’t know the half of it, and I’m so glad. I don’t want to talk about any of this anymore with her.

  None of us says anything, so she continues. “I mean, this seems to have brought the two of you closer,” she says, gesturing at Matt and me and our hands clasped solidly on the couch between us. “And I can only imagine the gratitude you must feel for this person who was a stranger, who became your savior. There’s a connection there now. One that will always be there. And this is the first time you’ve been face-to-face with him since the accident. Is there anything you’d like to say to him?”

  There is—so much—and I thought I’d be able to say it all, but I can’t. Not like this. Not in front of her and her cameras. And not in front of Matt either. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already so clearly does by saying everything I want to say to Walker.

  But this is my chance to thank him, and I at least owe him that. We don’t know each other, and we don’t share any history. I don’t know if I’ll see him again.

  I know how uncomfortable this is going to make them both, but I let go of Matt’s hand and I turn to Walker, who is as far away as he can possibly be on the other side of me. Every bit of his body language says Don’t touch, so I don’t reach out my hand to him like I want to. Instead, I try to catch his eyes, really catch them, and for a second, I do, and we’re locked like that, looking at each other across the small space that feels like miles and miles.

  “Thank you for what you did that night,” I say.

  There’s a second where his eyes soften, and he gives the slightest nod, and I feel a flicker of connection because his guard comes down, just a little.

  “For both of us,” I add, wanting Matt to know I’m thinking of him too.

  And just like that the wall goes back up. He nods again, then looks away.

  Someone behind the camera makes a motion to Dana, and she focuses her attention on us. “Well. This really has been a miraculous story, and it’s been SO good to have you all here. Let’s hope that you continue to heal and recover, and maybe even come out of this with a whole new way of seeing the world. Thank you so much for coming.” She looks at the camera. “And thank you for tuning in.”

  The guy behind the camera makes another motion, and the little light blinks off. “That was great, you guys!” Dana chirps. “Thank you so much!” She’s smiling like we’re all on the same team. Like she didn’t just blindside us or ask uncomfortable questions, or any of that.

  Walker stands and yanks the mic off his shirt. He tosses it in his empty seat and turns to Matt and me.

  We stand too. Matt’s face is serious, but he extends his hand across me, to Walker. “I know it’s not enough, but thank you. Again. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t do what you did.”

  Matt puts his arm around my shoulder, and Walker glances at it, but seems careful to avoid my eyes. Then he looks right at Matt. “You would’ve lost her.”

  It’s like a second punch. Beside me, I feel Matt flinch.

  Walker looks at me. “You two take care.”

  I stand there, not knowing what to say to that. I’d wanted to thank him off camera, and hoped I’d have the right words to do it, but no words come after that.

  He takes a step back. Shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “I need to go.”

  He turns to leave, and Dana totters after him in her heels. “Thank you for coming, Walker! I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge her, just keeps walking down the hall until he disappears.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do the same thing. Especially when Matt turns to Dana, his jaw tight. “You didn’t tell me he was gonna be here too.”

  “Oh,” she says, innocently. “I didn’t think he was, at first. Wouldn’t even talk to me.” She glances at me, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. “But something changed his mind.”

  Matt looks at me like I know what she’s talking about. I raise my hands and give him a look that says I have no idea, because I really don’t.

  “Let’s go,” he says. “We’re finished here.” He takes my hand, but something is different about it this time. A tension I almost want to resist.

  Dana puts a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you so much for coming in, Olivia. You truly are a miracle, and I can’t wait for everyone to see this soon, probably in the next couple of days.” She smiles at me, then glances at Matt, who just nods. We turn to leave.

  He walks fast down the hallway, and I have to work to keep up, even with him pulling me along. When we reach the doors, he swings them open with more force than necessary, and Walker, who’s leaning against the building, phone to his ear, looks up, watching us.

  Matt is so intent on getting to his truck he doesn’t see him, and I’m glad because now Walker is looking right at me with an expression that’s hard to read. I feel that flicker of something there again, and think maybe Dana was right about what she said about there being a connection now, because of what happened.

  I keep my eyes on his as we climb into the truck, as I close the door, and even as we back out of the parking space. I try to keep my eyes on him for as long as I can, this person who saved me. Who pumped blood into my heart, and breathed his own air back into my lungs, and who brought me back to life when it seemed I was long gone.

  And when we round the corner and he disappears, I remember to breathe.

  And I feel something besides pain, deep in my chest.

  The drive home is silent. Heavy with things said and unsaid. I’m sure Matt is thinking of what Walker said to him. I am. It seemed unnecessarily harsh. And exactly what Matt didn’t need to hear. I feel terrible for him, and I don’t know what to say or how to make him feel better. I don’t know what I would’ve done before—if I would’ve reached across the seat and rested a hand on his knee, or tried to talk about something else, or brought it up and talked it over. So I don’t do anything.

  I sit on my side of the cab and watch out the window as our little town goes by. Shops and restaurants that are a mix of familiar and new to me. People I know and don’t know. I wonder how many of them will watch that interview and what they’ll think. I wonder what my parents will say—how mad they’ll be. And I wonder how I’ll explain to them why I did it in the first place. I almost wish now that I h
adn’t. Walker was so hostile, Matt probably does too.

  It’s not until we pull into my driveway and park that he turns to me. “Liv. I’m so sorry.”

  The apology surprises me, since I feel like I’m the one who should be apologizing. “For what?” I ask.

  He takes a deep breath, and then his words come out in one long string. “Where do I start—for asking you to do that interview, for not being able to get you out, for that night, for—”

  “Stop,” I say, reaching out to him.

  He looks at me, startled.

  “Please,” I say. “Stop apologizing. We’ll never get past this if you don’t.”

  It’s quiet a moment, and Matt looks down at his hands in his lap.

  “I don’t blame you, Matt—for any of it,” I say. “So you need to stop blaming yourself, or we’ll never move on.”

  I don’t know where it comes from, but it feels true. Matt looks at me like he doesn’t know what to say, but somehow I feel like I do. I turn to face him.

  “So, what if we just take it one day at a time? Make plans to see each other again?”

  Matt nods, but he still looks a little unsure. “Okay. But only if you want to. I don’t want you to feel like we have to—”

  “I want to,” I say. And it’s the truth.

  He looks relieved. “Tomorrow, then?”

  “I’m going to work with Sam tomorrow, but what about the day after? Maybe in the afternoon?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Okay,” he repeats.

  I reach for the door handle but don’t pull it. We both sit there quiet, and I get the feeling it’s because this is the moment we’d normally kiss good-bye, but he doesn’t make any move to. So I try. I lean across the seat and kiss him lightly on the cheek.

  “Bye,” I whisper close to his ear before I pull away.

  He looks at me with an expression I can’t read. “Bye, Liv.”

  I get out and walk up my driveway, feeling like I somehow missed something, or did or said something wrong. I look back at him, no idea what it could be.