Catch My Breath

by Wendy L. Wilson

“Wait!” They both stop. “Have either of you called Alyssa to tell her what happened?”

  Evan’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks surprised.

  “Hell, it didn’t even dawn on me to call her. I think we both have been so focused on seeing you and Tristan wake up that that was the last thing on our minds.” Evan scratches his head while Jake shrugs his shoulders.

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t have known how to reach her anyways. I know you said she lived in Fairview but other than that I haven’t a clue. You got her number?” Evan walks to my side with his phone already held out.

  I laugh, wondering how I’m going to do this with an immobile head glued to a massive brace, a nonfunctioning arm and another arm that is too sore to raise more than three inches above the bed.

  “Yeah, but I think I might …”

  Evan laughs and quickly flips the phone around so he can punch in the numbers himself. “Oh. No problem … I gotcha. What’s her number?”

  Burnt into my brain since the night she sat beside me in the back of my truck and agreed to be mine, I say aloud each digit as Evan carefully dials. Even though every inch of me feels like it is tied down to this bed, my insides bounce with excitement at the thought of hearing her voice. What has only been a few days seems more like weeks from the time I last saw her face in the rearview mirror of Tristan's car til now.

  Evan slides the phone against my ear with a clank as it taps the hard plastic of my brace. My heart drums with anticipation and the corners of my mouth tick into a small grin as soon as I hear the ringing. The ringing stops and I swear my heart does too, but then the wrong voice echoes in my eardrum.

  "Hello."

  "Hi...aaaa, is Alyssa there?" I ask hesitantly, hoping I dialed the wrong number. Surely, I didn't remember her number wrong.

  "No she isn't. Who is this?"

  Who's this? Who the hell is this?!

  "Aaaaa … who is this?" I counter his question, unwilling to believe what could possibly be going on.

  "This is Alyssa's boyfriend and this is..." he draws out his words, grating on my nerves and making me want to reach through the phone with my halfway good arm and choke his lying ass.

  "What? You’re her boyfriend? Is she there?" I demand, wanting to hear this from her.

  What the hell! It has been four day; four days! What the hell kind of boyfriend could she have unless she went back to her cheating ex?

  "No, she isn't. Did you need to leave a message?" he says in a smug tone.

  "No...no, I don't!" I try my best to pull my face away from the phone, immediately sending a lightning bolt of pain straight down my neck and to my shoulder.

  I look up at Evan and Jake who are both standing up against the bed looking at me with blank stares. No doubt they picked up on the whole conversation. How freaking humiliating! How the hell is this possible? Evan’s hand slowly pulls the phone away, pulling it to his ear for a brief moment before tapping the end button.

  "Ok, so that didn't sound like it went too well. Umm, do you want me to go kick..." Evan starts in with his humor, but I really can't handle it right now. What is going on? Boyfriend?

  Shooting him a look that says not right now, Evan snaps his mouth shut.

  "Judd, did you want us to hang around for a bit?" I know Jake is concerned, but I really don't want anyone around right now when I am helplessly hitting rock bottom over and over.

  "No, I think you guys should go get the check and get your phone turned on. Don't bother with mine. I won't need it anyways."

  To hell with taking the high ground; I plan on wallowing in my grief and feeling sorry for myself.

  "You sure, because we can stick around?" Jake offers up once again.

  "No it's fine." I give them a tightlipped smile as all the misery from today's news boils in my veins.

  Jake and Evan hesitantly make their way out, leaving me with a cold, silent room and my screaming thoughts. How could she?

  Laying in bed replaying every moment we spent together and every word we said to each other proves to be more torture than I can handle; I’m thankful when Evan and Jake return an hour and a half later.

  “Here you go,” Evan announces, striding up and placing my laptop on the side table.

  “Thanks,” I glance down at it, afraid to even look up anything I’m thinking. “Can you get the nurse and have her adjust my bed so I can sit up?”

  “Here,” Jake runs over and pulls a remote from my side; instantly the top portion of my body rises so I can finally see my surroundings. It feels good to actually be able see to where the hell I am. I look over to the door, saddened. I just wish Alyssa would walk in and tell me that this is all a big mistake or cruel joke.

  “Thanks,” I say again, this time to my brother.

  “No problem. Are you going to be able to sign the check?”

  I flick my eyes down to the paper he’s holding. “Yeah, I can manage.” Luckily with his guided hand, I sign it with minimal pain flaring up into my arm.

  “Hey, you know what? I’ll get your laptop hooked to wifi and ready for you to get on it, if you want.”

  He doesn’t wait for my ok. He flips it open and gets it all set without another word, positioning the table in front of me so that it is low enough that I do not have to lift my hand much to tap the sensor pad.

  “I think we’re going to take off and get this cashed. Jake said there were some other bills that apparently Tristan forgot to pay before heading to the lake.” Evan emphasizes the word forgot, knowing as well as I do how irresponsible Tristan is. “Last thing we want is for you to bust out of this joint and have no water, because you stink my friend.”

  I can only imagine.

  “You want me to get you anything else before we head out?” I shake my head, but he quickly continues in on his waiting-on-me-hand-and-foot ritual that he’s been on the last two days by refilling my cup with water and sitting it by the bed. “Ok … all set. I even opened a couple tabs for you with your newsfeed, UCLA’s webpage and so forth.” He stares down at me as Evan moves closer to the door, clearing his throat to signal that it’s time to leave. “Ok,” he says again before turning away.

  “Thanks, Jake.” I smile at him, a little worried about all he may be holding back. Tristan and I may be experiencing the physical repercussions of this wreck, but Jake had to live through the emotional turmoil of hearing that his only two remaining family members were near death in some hospital.

  They both wave their goodbyes and head off.

  As I lift my hand to the laptop, I’m thankful for the stretching exercises that Stacey had me do this morning with my good arm. It is tender and sore, but in good working order. Every joint and muscle in my body feels eighty years old from the impact of being jostled around, so I consider being able to raise my good arm to my lap and tap on the touch pad a small feat in itself.

  Slowly and carefully letting my fingertip glide along the smooth surface of my keyboard, my eyes follow the curser up to the search bar at the top of my newsfeed; now for the challenging part. Lifting my hand a couple inches to the left, I hit the ‘A’ key then shift it clear across the board and press down on the ‘L.’ Moving to the top, I hit the ‘Y’ followed by ‘S’ and another ‘S’ and then an ‘A.’ Letting my hand flow down to the space bar and up to the ‘M’, a shooting pain in my neck stops me in my tracks and I have no choice but to give it a rest. This really sucks! Here I’ve worked my ass off to hit the weights 4-5 days a week through my entire high school existence and now a simple task like typing in a name presents a new level of strain on my body like I am trying to bench press a buffalo.

  As soon as my arm is softly cradled back into the mattress, the throbbing in my neck and shoulders lessen. I sure wish I knew when this brace would be off, but so far I have gotten no indication from the doctors or nurses of when that could be expected. Times like now, I am thankful that I am the patient, because if I were the doctor, I’d be out of this costume and more than likely doing all kinds of damage to my body.


  My head sinks back into the lumpy, itchy hospital pillow and I close my eyes trying to will away all pain so I can continue typing. As soon as my eyes seal shut, the soft satiny feel of her skin surfaces in my mind at the same time that the sweet scent of strawberries rises into the air around me. Snapping my eyes open, I flick my gaze around the room, swearing she had to be right beside me. Screw the pain!

  With strained movements, I raise my arm back to the laptop as if it is being levitated and rest my wrist against the bottom of the keyboard for two more movements; left to the ‘A’ … tap and ‘S’ … tap then clear over to the right to finish off her name with an ‘O’ and ‘N.’

  With a deep, deliberate breath, I hit enter and instantly see a list of matching names pop up. The top picture catches my attention, but I quickly close my eyes when I see that it is of her and someone else.

  After I've mustered up the courage to look, I peel my eyes open and stare at the picture. My gaze is unfailing as I am pulled in and staked through the heart again and again with the image. She looks into the camera with a closed mouth smile and a sparkle in her eye. I zoom in on her eyes and study the curves of her long eyelashes and swoop of her brows. Her nose is crinkled up like she has been laughing and her high cheeks have the slightest hint of pink to them. She's beautiful.

  My eyes wander over the picture, automatically straying down to her shoulders, then stop. An arm is casually draped around her neck and his hand is placed right above her chest. I snarl my lip, pissed as hell. Every fiber in my body is dying to rip his arm right off her shoulder. I finally swing my eyes over to this mystery guy; a guy I've only heard about, yet I despise everything he stands for; the guy who owns the same voice that I spoke to just earlier today; a voice I will not likely forget.

  That's him? That's the guy she really loves?

  His unruly blonde hair sticks out in all different directions and bleeds into hers as he leans his head against hers. He has dark eyes and a cocky grin plastered on his face, like he just got away with cheating on his girlfriend. Oh wait, he did. Wow, what an asshole!

  "What the hell are you thinking, Alyssa?" I whisper to myself.

  He doesn't look like anything special. Honestly, if I was a girl, I doubt I would even find him attractive. He's pretty goofy looking, if you ask me.

  I glance back to her face and even though I know I was more than likely just some act of revenge to get him back for cheating on her, I can't help but feel crushed. I really thought I had found something. It felt so real, unlike anything I've ever experienced.

  When I was with her I felt whole.

  I felt peace.

  Every minute of my life has been spent feeling as though I was drowning, sinking, being buried alive, but from the second I saw her, catching my breath no longer felt like a struggle.

  It no longer felt painful.

  It reminded me that I was alive and I was finally able to look at my life and realize that every turn, every crook in the road and every roadblock had led me to this moment …

  It had led me to her and I don’t want to let her go; I can’t let her go.

  Now.......

  Now, I just feel empty

  I feel lost!

  THE NEXT COUPLE DAYS are chaotic with nurses in and out of my room taking my vitals, blood work and wheeling me through the hospital for more scans. Luckily, the swelling in my neck has gone down quite a bit and I’m hoping to get this sheet of armor off my neck soon. I’m sure the doctor will veto that request as soon as I ask.

  Sitting up in bed, I use my left arm which is more mobile with less pain today, to look up information on my shoulder injury. Not that I don’t trust the good ole doc, but I’d rather look it up on the internet and read it for myself.

  Going over several forums where athletes who had received similar injuries then proceeded to ignore their doctor’s advice and ended up with permanent damage later, gives me a knot in my stomach. Comment after comment pushes all my hopes further away as I read about the potential repercussions and experiences.

  One guy left a book long post stating that he experienced temporary paralysis due to a biking accident and despite the doctor’s orders to give the dirt biking a rest he was back at it only months after his accident. That resulted in a harder hit the second go around, and now he is told he will never walk again. Honestly, his post scares the hell out of me.

  I received a four year scholarship, however I need to call and let them know the situation. I’m hopeful that the coach can red shirt me for this year and start me as a first season sophomore. I have a lot of calls to make and things to figure out. Sitting out for a year will be more than enough recoup time, however, the fact that the injuries I’ve sustained are common for football players and just one hard hit could end it for me, has me on edge.

  Shuffling sounds behind me, reminding me that Nurse Stacey is changing out the drip bag of my pain meds.

  “Hey, look who we found,” Evan announces with a dramatic eye roll as he, Jake and Tiffany enter the room.

  Perfect! I shut my laptop and give them all as sincere a smile as possible. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” Tiffany says quietly as she shoves past Evan and slides onto the bed beside me, immediately clasping my left hand in hers.

  I stare ahead at Evan, wanting to choke him for bringing her here then gracefully slip my hand away from hers.

  “I’m sorry. Are you in a lot of pain? Your brother told me you were in a wreck. Your poor face is so cut up” she says sweetly with a truck load of concern.

  Leaning toward me as if she is going to kiss my nose, I shoot Jake and Evan a quick look that says “WTF” then my eyes shift back to her. This is the point when I really need this damn brace off my neck.

  “Tiffany, I’m really not up for company.”

  Evan snorts out a fit of laughter at the same time that she draws back, puckering out her bottom lip. That look doesn’t even faze me today. Pout all you want. I’m lying in a freaking hospital bed, dealing with the fact that I may never play football, I just had my heart trampled on by the one person I would have given up anything for, I’m not getting any sleep with endless rounds of nurses checking on me all night, my body is stiff as if I‘ve been sleeping on a steel beam for weeks on end, my chest hurts like hell and I am not in the best of moods.

  I glare at her and open my mouth to speak, but Stacey quickly cuts me off, “Ok, now I need to look at some of these cuts. I’m going to need your girlfriend to move for a minute.”

  “Ahhh … she’s not my girlfriend.”

  Tiffany looks at me as if she’s hurt and a jolt of guilt shoots through me.

  “Sorry … she’s a good friend,” I correct my statement and give her a strained smile.

  “No problem,” she whispers, stepping up and walking over to a recliner in the corner.

  Jake smiles and looks back and forth between Tiffany and me. Everyone knows the story between me and her, so they all know just how awkward this is.

  “She came by the house to see if you were back from the lake. I told her I was coming here and she asked if she could come,” he explains quietly with a sorrowful expression. Lowering his voice more, he leans forward on the edge of his folding chair, “She is really worried about you … as a friend, you know?”

  A cold draft brushes across my right side a little below where I had my surgery. Along with all the damage to my arm, the puncture in my side and a couple of cracked ribs all on my right, I also have several rather deep gashes that the doctor suspects are from me blasting through the windshield. I grit my teeth from the sting that burns at my skin along my hip bone as Stacey peels away the bandage.

  Looking down to make sure she hasn’t disrobed me completely in front of a room full of people, a wave of nausea courses through me when I see the nastiness of the wound.

  “So what’s the scoop? He’s all healed up and ready to go home, right?” Evan snickers.

  A bubble of laughter bursts from Stacey’s mouth surprising us al
l. “Honey, that is not likely anytime soon.”

  I look at her alarmed. I never thought to ask her or the doctor how long I might be here, assuming they would be getting me on my feet as soon as the swelling in my neck went down.

  “I think you are going to be hanging around for a couple weeks, sweetie,” she says and my heart sinks.

  “Great,” I huff out, wanting to throw a temper tantrum like a little kid.

  “Oh come on, it’s not that bad here, now,” she spits out a laugh. “I’m thinking the staff is enjoying your company anyways.” She flashes me a mischievous grin and continues on her mission to change my bandages.

  I crinkle my brows, still staring at her.

  “Oh stop that before you rip open that cut again,” she teases and for some reason I find myself wanting to smile at how tickled she gets. “You really don’t think all those young nurses need to be checking your vitals as many times as they do, do you?”

  I catch on to her comment, just as Evan does, “Who … which one?”

  My brother cracks up while Tiffany crosses her arms across her chest, clearly opposed to anyone trying to move in on what she has been trying years to claim.

  “Oh don’t worry, baby doll, they are talking about you, too. Three handsome young men all in one room is sending those nurses into a frenzy. You boys are the talk of the floor. We’ve never had so many requests for the nurses to work extra shifts.” Her body shakes as she spits out a laugh.

  Tiffany speaks up, more than likely in a deliberate effort to break up the conversation at hand, “So what happened anyways? I never heard the full story. Your brother just said that you wrecked.”

  “Good question? What did happen? Was Tristan …” Evan asks, tipping his hand up to his mouth as if he is drinking.

  I don’t have the definite answer, but Jake pipes up, surprising me, “No, actually the doctor said they checked Tristan’s blood alcohol level when he was admitted, assuming it was a drinking and driving accident, but he was below the legal limit.”

  “Seriously, because I swore I smelled alcohol when we were driving. Tristan kept arguing that he wasn’t drunk, but I could smell something.”