by Tiffany King
twenty-two
Mac
I hadn’t slept as well as I hoped to, but I still woke Sunday morning feeling charged. I got ready to go with a purpose. I was finally ready to tackle something I had been putting off for too long. Grabbing a small box I had carefully packed with stuff that I felt no longer belonged to me, I headed out of the house.
It took less than five minutes to get to my destination. My heart clenched as I pulled in front of the familiar house. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my cane, along with the small box, and made my way up the slightly sloped driveway.
Wiping my sweaty palm on my jeans, I knocked, but was unprepared when the door opened so quickly. I nearly choked on my own breath as I stood face to face with Zach’s mom, Janet.
“Mackenzie,” Janet gasped, dragging me into her arms for a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered in my ear, hugging me tighter. The plastic box in my arms dug into my side, but I paid no attention as I returned her hug.
“Come in.” She stepped back, holding the door open. I entered the house, immediately noticing the changes. The interior looked completely different from the remodeling. The thick carpet had been pulled up and replaced with smooth hardwood floors for easy maneuvering. Walls had been knocked down, opening up the house into one large open space where everything was easily accessible. Stepping farther into the room, I noticed that the family room now flowed into the kitchen and dining room. It felt larger and more spacious. I would have expressed my approval over the changes if not for the circumstances surrounding them.
Janet led me into the family room, where the other occupant I had expected to see was sitting. My heart dropped to my knees. He looked exactly the same with the exception of the wheelchair. “Zach, look who came to see you,” Janet chirped as Zach turned to stare at me with the same animosity that had been there a year and a half ago.
• • •
june 2013
I’m not sure what I had been expecting when I went to Zach’s room. I knew he’d been broken up from the accident like me, and yet, I’d still expected him to look the same. Maybe that was some kind of coping mechanism in my head. Nothing about the person propped up on the hospital bed in front of me resembled the Zach I had known for the past fifteen years. His face, unlike mine, was blemish free from the accident, but he no longer wore the same carefree welcoming expression I was used to. He looked angry and bitter.
He didn’t look at Mom and me as we entered. His eyes remained fixated on the television even though the sound was turned all the way down. I looked at Janet, who sat in the corner, with confusion. She shook her head slightly before standing to approach Zach.
“Sweetheart, Livia and I are going to get a cup of coffee.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Do you need anything?” He didn’t acknowledge her, and she didn’t seem surprised. His eyes never left the TV.
Mom and Janet left, closing the door behind them. I placed my hands on the wheels of my chair, maneuvering myself as close to his bed as my broken legs would allow. I focused on his face rather than his legs, which lay motionless in casts. I wanted to smooth my hand across his forehead to erase the harsh lines, but he was out of reach, so I did the next best thing and grasped his hand. His fingers remained slack like a corpse.
“Zach, I’m glad you’re going to be okay. I was so scared.” The words poured out of me in a rush. I’d missed my friends. The last ten days had been the longest any of us had ever spent apart.
Zach finally pulled his eyes away from the television. He looked at me incredulously. “Okay? Okay? Did you miss my prognosis? Crippled. I’m fucking crippled. I’ll never throw a football again. Hell, I’ll never fucking walk again, and you’re glad I’m going to be okay.” His words were like shards of glass, slicing through my soul. He ripped my heart out with razor-sharp teeth, shredding it until it was a bloody pulp. “And what about Tracey? Are you glad about her, too?”
Bile rose in my throat. I clenched my fist, wanting to lash out at him. Make him suffer in the same way that his words were hurting me. My eyes blazed as I jerked my hand from his. Tears streamed down his cheeks, taking the wind from my sails. Nothing I could say would cause him any more pain than what he was already feeling.
In spite of his harsh words, I wanted to weep with him. I wanted to rant at whoever was cosmically responsible for all of this, but I did neither. My friends and I didn’t deserve this.
“Zach, what can I do?” My voice was thick with unshed tears that refused to come. I didn’t know what to do to comfort him. I was an emotionless shell.
“Nothing.” His hands clenched into fists. “Nobody can do anything. My life is over.”
“Zach, it’s not over. I know it feels like it is, but it’s not. We’re going to get through this. I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.” His voice rose several decibels. As he swiped the tears from his eyes, I saw nothing but hopelessness in them.
“You just need time,” I pleaded.
“Get out,” he bellowed, reaching for the call button on his bed.
I couldn’t respond. Zach never lost his cool. He never held a grudge, and he definitely never raised his voice. His face was a distorted mask of rage as he continued to bellow at me. I tried to reach for him, but he shoved me away.
“GET OUT!” He picked up the glass on his table, threatening to throw it at me.
I was genuinely scared and tried to back my chair away from his bed, bumping into everything in the process. I cursed my plaster-encased legs. I wanted to flee, but I was trapped. Held hostage again by circumstances out of my control.
Zach refused to see me after that. For an entire month I went to his room every day, hoping he would change his mind. Eventually, the constant rejection was too much, and I stopped trying. Just like I had stopped sending e-mails to Kat since she never responded. Only three of my friends had died in that tragic accident, and yet, I had lost all of them; the Brat Pack was no more.
• • •
I sat uncomfortably in a chair across from Zach, my hands fidgeting nervously in my lap. “I’ve spent a lot of time over the past year and a half thinking about what I wanted to say. I know our relationship back then never reached the level you wanted it to. Maybe I was just naïve, but I thought you could handle it. I thought we could handle it. The worst part about finding out about you and Tracey was that you kept it hidden from me.”
Zach flinched at the mention of Tracey’s name, but his eyes remained fixated on the floor.
“Sure, it would have been tough to handle at first, but if it was over between us, you should have said something. You should have ended it. How do you think it made me feel to find out I had been a roadblock between you and Tracey? I know you thought you were doing the right thing, like maybe you were sparing my feelings or something, but then you had the nerve to get so mad in the hospital and accuse me of being happy that Tracey was gone.” I felt a lump in my throat, but I swallowed hard. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today.
“I didn’t deserve that. We both lost people we loved that night. Tracey was my best friend. I know you’ve suffered a great deal. You’re facing a life now that you hadn’t counted on, but that doesn’t mean we abandon each other. Not after everything we’ve been through together.”
I placed my hand on his. He still didn’t move, still never looked up from the floor. If any part of the old Zach I once knew still existed, I knew he would understand. “Zach, regardless of everything that has happened, I want you to know I forgive you. And I expect you to forgive me.” I squeezed his hand and stood up from my chair. The only acknowledgment he would provide was that he didn’t turn away from me when I bent over and hugged him like I had wanted to so many months ago. He didn’t return the hug, but I hadn’t expected him to. Simply listening was a start. Before I left, I handed him the box I’d brought with me, hoping it would give him a push in the right direction.
Janet hugged me tightly before I left, makin
g me promise I’d visit her again soon. I had no problem making the promise. I would be back for another visit, and another one after that, and another one after that. I let Zach push me away once before, but I would not abandon him. I found a new level of resolve during the visit, facing the evidence of what I did not want to become. Zach was bitter and angry at the world. Today I had taken one more step that would help me finally find closure. The end of my journey was so close that I could practically taste it. In contrast, Zach’s defiance indicated he hadn’t started his journey yet. He was stuck at the beginning.
twenty-three
Bentley
The holidays seemed to bring out the crazy in everyone. I lost count of how many calls Steve and I took over the weekend. I figured I would have missed all the deep fryer attempts gone wrong by not actually working on Thanksgiving Day, but it seemed people got drunk over the weekend and continued frying more than just turkeys. We treated so many burns I was convinced I’d never get the smell off me. Some of these people were lucky they didn’t burn down their houses.
The only good thing about the busy weekend was that I didn’t have much time to think about Mac, or more accurately, what had transpired on the beach. It was a good thing since just the mental picture of what we did was enough to give me a case of blue balls, and there was no way I could work like that. Steve would be wondering if something was wrong with me if I had to go to the restroom too many times to take things into my own hands.
After some arranging and a few threats, I was able to secure the apartment for myself on Monday night. I even managed to bribe Michael and Chad into helping me clean the place. Both grumbled, claiming I was acting like our parents were visiting. They were both smart enough to know what I was hoping tonight would lead to, but that didn’t stop them from giving me shit about it all day. They thought they were being hilarious by hiding condoms all over the apartment that Mac was bound to find. Only after I threatened bodily harm to them and Sherman did they collect them all.
The place looked pretty spic and span by the time we were done. I thought I was ready until an unexpected case of nerves hit me as I drove to Mac’s dorm. Tonight could go two ways. I could get Mac to my apartment, where she would see the obvious seduction attempt and freak out, demanding I take her home, or it would go my way and lead to an obviously happy ending. I regretted my decision to wait until I picked her up to tell her we had the apartment to ourselves. A little warning would have probably been the smarter course of action. I was acting about as suave as a fourteen-year-old who had just scored his first Playboy magazine. Mac certainly wasn’t going to be the first girl I’d ever slept with, but she definitely felt like the most important.
twenty-four
Mac
Monday, when I arrived back on campus after the short Thanksgiving break, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. Bentley and I had a date planned for that evening, and I found it difficult to focus from the anticipation of seeing him again. I even skipped my last class so I could put in extra time getting ready. I had never seduced anyone, and I didn’t want to look like a total amateur.
My decision to wear a dress was the toughest part. As a rule, I never wore anything but pants in order to cover my scars from sight. I knew my leg was unsightly, and figured I was sparing everyone the need to stare. The only problem was I wanted Bentley to see me dressed up. Dresses had a way of making a girl feel pretty. At least they had for me in the past. Trina was a big help in talking me into forgetting what I was seeing in the mirror and trusting that I looked good. She also stepped in when I tried unsuccessfully to do something different with my hair. I was about ready to throw the brush across the room in a fit of frustration when she stopped me. How she did it, I have no idea, but somehow she was able to get my hair pulled up in a sophisticated knot that looked extremely elegant. When my hair was fixed to her satisfaction, she offered to do my makeup.
“Thank you, Trina. I love it,” I commented, looking at my reflection in the mirror. “I haven’t felt this pretty in a long time.” I surprised us both by reaching out to hug her, which she happily accepted.
“You’re this pretty all the time. I should hate anyone who can look so good with such little effort,” she joked, winking at my reflection.
“Shut up. You’ve obviously been smoking something, because I’d gladly trade everything for those long legs and pouty lips.” I hadn’t said anything before, but I’d been envious of her since we met.
“Well, give me your boobs and freaking ass any day of the week. Wait. That sounded different in my head. Now it just sounds like I’m hitting on you.”
“Well, I suspected you swung from the other side of the monkey bars.” I laughed.
“After the last douche I dated, being a lesbian might actually be promising.”
“That bad?” I asked, grabbing my purse.
“Just put it this way, he makes guys on some reality shows look good.”
“Oh Lord. That’s never a good thing.”
“Tell me about it. I’m beginning to think all college guys are assholes. At least all the ones at this school.”
A sudden idea occurred to me. “I might know a guy. He’s definitely not an asshole.”
“What does that mean? Is he a freak of nature or something?”
“Well, he does have his quirks.” I had Chad in mind, but the more I talked, the less convinced I was that he was right for Trina.
“What quirks?” Some of her enthusiasm drained away.
“He’s a bit of a gamer. He is really funny, though, and sweet.”
“Yeah, but a gamer? Like video games, or are we talking dice-rolling fantasy geek?”
“No, not dice games. He’s big into Xbox. Maybe more than the average guy.”
“Um, thanks, but no thanks,” she answered disdainfully, flouncing on her bed.
I was tempted to say more. Really I hadn’t cast Chad in the best light. I could do better, maybe. Glancing at my phone, though, I realized now was not the time. Throwing her a hurried good-bye, I headed out to meet Bentley.
Bentley pulled up in front of my dorm building just as I walked outside. He acted nervous when he got out of the car, which I found sweet. I had been struggling with my own case of nerves.
“You look breathtaking,” he said, sweeping me up in his arms so my feet dangled several inches off the ground. I could tell he approved of my dress, which eased some of my stress over my leg being exposed.
“Why, thank you.” I sounded slightly breathless, but the way he held me in his arms stoked my fire. If my plans went off without a hitch, this wouldn’t be the last time either of us would be out of breath tonight. “So, what’s the plan?” Bentley set me back onto my feet, hesitantly answering the question.
“Well, Chad and Michael are out for the night, so I thought we’d pick up something to eat and take it back to my apartment.”
I smiled without offering any objections. Butterflies filled my stomach. Any doubts I may have had about where we stood tonight were put to rest. It was obvious I wasn’t the only one who had given the evening some thought. I hoped I wouldn’t be a disappointment, but it was too late to start second-guessing things.
“How was your weekend?” he asked once we were in the car.
“Eventful,” I answered, smiling at the understatement.
“Even more eventful than Friday?”
“Let’s just say it was a different kind of eventful.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His insightfulness was one of the things I liked most about him, but tonight I didn’t want to delve into any of the things that would bog us down.
“Not tonight, okay?”
“Whenever you’re ready. I was thinking we could pick up Chinese food. Does that sound good?” He pulled into a shopping plaza near campus.
“Sounds yummy,” I answered, climbing out of the vehicle with him.
To pass the time while we waited for our food, I asked him about work. Listening t
o his stories, I was amazed by how much trouble people could get themselves into during the holidays, especially when alcohol was involved. It reminded me of neighbors we had years ago who tried setting off fireworks in their screened-in porch. They nearly lost their house if not for the quick response of the fire trucks.
Bentley laughed and, of course, had his own stories about the Fourth. “One year, my friend Jacob thought it would be funny to set off an M80 firecracker under a mop bucket. It was so loud, it sounded like a grenade had gone off. My dad was so pissed.”
As we pulled into Bentley’s apartment complex with our Chinese food, my stomach hurt from laughing at Bentley’s impersonation of his dad freaking out on him and his friends.
“You laugh, but I swear my ass still has belt marks on it. I couldn’t sit for a week,” he complained, helping me up the stairs to his apartment.
“We all got in trouble like that one year, too. Dan came up with the brilliant idea of setting off fireworks from the top of his house one Fourth of July. I forget where his parents were, but they were gone for some reason,” I said, searching for details that weren’t important to the story. “Anyway, it was Kat’s dad who caught us just in time to see one of our fireworks land smack dab in the middle of the grand oak tree in Dan’s backyard. Nothing bad happened. Well, to the tree, I mean. All of us got grounded. I remember Kat was so upset, like her world had ended. Total drama, let me tell you,” I chattered away. I stopped myself when I noticed we were standing outside Bentley’s apartment, but he was waiting for me to finish my story before we went inside. “Sorry. I was babbling there.” Truthfully, I think I was trying to distract myself from a bad case of the nerves.