Live to Tell

by Lisa Harrington

  “Cal,” I repeated.

  “You two left the party together.”

  That made no sense. “But why? Where was Nate?”

  She didn’t answer me. She probably couldn’t. “And then … then there was an accident.”

  I fixed my eyes on the half-dead flowers lining the windowsill. I went over what she’d just told me again and again, trying to make it sound familiar. “An accident. A car accident?”

  Mom nodded.

  “Your car?”

  “Yes.”

  “And … this Cal was with me?”

  “Yes.”

  I sunk my fingers into her arm. “The car. Who was driving the car?” My heart was beating so loud in my ears I could barely hear my own voice.

  I saw her swallow. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Mom?”

  “Libby. Later.”

  “No. Tell me now.” I already knew the answer. “Just say it.”

  She stared at me for what seemed like forever, then closed her eyes as if in pain. “You were, Libby. You were driving the car.”

  Chapter 3

  Her words were like a bomb that I happened to be holding when it went off. Then everything stopped, as if the air had been sucked from the room.

  Not caring about the tubes and wires, I struggled to sit up, my breath coming out in gasps.

  Mom stood and put her hand on my heart. “Calm down, Libby. Try to breathe.”

  “No, no I can’t, I can’t.”

  She slipped an arm under my shoulders and propped me up. “Here, have a sip of water.”

  I spilled most of it, but managed to suck some up the straw. Then, pushing the cup away, I lay back down.

  Mom held my hand and stood quietly beside my bed saying nothing.

  Hot tears leaked down the sides of my face and dripped into my hair. When I saw the same tears on Mom’s face, they came even faster, turning her into a watery shape.

  “Mom …”

  “Shhhh,” she soothed.

  “But I can’t remember! Why can’t I remember?”

  “It’s going to be okay. You need some time, that’s all.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I squeaked out between sobs.

  She nodded, sobbing right along with me. “I know. I know you are.”

  “How could I …?” I couldn’t finish the sentence, not out loud; it was too horrible to even think, let alone say. I’m not that girl. What changed? What happened? Something did, because now … I am that girl.

  “You made a mistake, Libby,” Mom whispered. “A terrible mistake.”

  I pulled my hand away. “A mistake? How can you say that? You should be out of your mind, screaming at me like crazy.”

  “Don’t worry. I was out of my mind. And I already did scream at you — in my head.” She tried to smile. “Then all that was kind of pushed aside, while your dad and I waited for you to come out of surgery.”

  That quieted me. I thought about what I must have put them through. What it must have been like, all the waiting and worrying, sitting at my bedside, knowing what I’d done.

  Too ashamed to look at her, I stared down at my hands, the tubes, the needle, the tape. Then I saw it, another flash — a milky drink in my hand. “It’s a White Russian. I made it special just for you. Stir it up. The Kahlua sinks to the bottom.” My stomach contracted and I felt something make its way up my throat. I closed my eyes and swallowed it back down.

  “Cal. Is he okay?” I asked.

  “He’s going to be fine. He was lucky, you both were. You have to know that, right?” She reached for a Kleenex and wiped her eyes. “You could have both been killed.”

  I sniffed. “Yeah.”

  “Thank God he was able to call 911. Probably saved your life.”

  My nose was running and I grabbed a Kleenex too.

  “I don’t know much about him. He seems very concerned though. Apparently you go to school with his sister.”

  I pressed my head back against the pillow and tried to think. Suddenly, it clicked — Julia: Her name immediately created a bad taste in my mouth. She was Nate’s ex-girlfriend and I didn’t like her. That much I remembered. And yes, she had an older brother named Cal.

  “He’s here all the time, waiting to see you, even though we told him no visitors.”

  The panic was back and I clutched at her arm. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see anybody.”

  Patting my hand she said, “You don’t have to.”

  I sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

  She took a deep breath. “Except …”

  “Well, Dad, of course.” The thought of him brought another new wave of emotion. What did he see when he looked at me now? Not his little girl. Things would never be the same.

  “I don’t mean Dad,” she said quietly.

  “But I don’t want to see Emma, not yet. Where is she, anyway?”

  “Emma’s with Nana and Grampy, and I didn’t mean her, either.”

  I was confused. “You said I didn’t have to see any—”

  “Libby. Listen to me.”

  Something in her tone made my heart skip a beat.

  “Libby. You’re going to have to prepare yourself. The police want to talk to you, ask you a few questions. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “The police?”

  Mom nodded.

  “Am I going to jail?” My voice was shaking.

  “No. They’re just going to ask you some questions.”

  My mind raced ahead. They’re going to arrest me or something. They have to — I broke the law. I’m a criminal now, a DUI, like on the evening news and the magazine covers at the grocery store.

  “Are you listening to me, Libby?”

  “What?”

  “You won’t be alone. Dad and I will be here, and so will Diane.”

  Diane was our neighbour, Mom and Dad’s lawyer. Now that I was a criminal, I guess I needed one too.

  “If they ask you something and you don’t remember, then all you say is, you don’t remember,” Mom said. There was a kind of urgency in her voice.

  “Okay,” I whispered. Chances were that was probably the only answer I’d be able to give them.

  “Try not to think about it for now. Close your eyes and have a little rest. It’ll make you feel better.”

  She was trying to reassure me, but all I felt was terror. I wanted time to stand still, even if it meant never getting better and being stuck in this stupid hospital bed for the rest of my life.

  I WOKE TO SEE Mom slipping in through the curtain. “Where’d you go?” I asked groggily.

  “I saw Dr. Murray in the hall. I needed to discuss something with him, that’s all.”

  “Is everything —?” Right then I heard Dad’s voice in the hall. He was coming and I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I shot a frantic look at Mom.

  “I won’t lie to you, Libby. Your dad’s having a rough time with this,” she said.

  I held my breath, knowing it was going to be more brutal than I could even imagine.

  “All you need to know is that we both love you, and we’re going to get through this. We’re all going to get through this,” she said firmly. But there were still tears in her eyes so she wasn’t very convincing.

  Dad came around the edge of the curtain. He looked upset, flustered, and he wasn’t alone. Two people followed behind him.

  Mom tightened her grip on my arm, a look of alarm on her face. “Where’s Diane?”

  “She got held up in court,” Dad explained. Then he gestured with his head. “I met them in the hall. I told them she’s just woken up and doesn’t remember anything.”

  I felt Mom relax slightly.

  Dad and I locked eyes. It was so painful I had to look away.

  The strangers, a man and a woman, moved to the foot of my bed. They looked and dressed normal, but weren’t. Even without uniforms, you could tell.

  “Mrs. Thorne.” One of them gave my mom a quick nod.


  She lifted the corners of her mouth but it didn’t quite turn into a smile.

  “Miss Thorne,” the man said to me. “Good to see you’re awake.” His voice was stern and official sounding, like the guy who reads the news on the radio.

  “Libby,” I whispered.

  “Okay, Libby,” he repeated, pulling up a chair. “I’m Detective Shaw, and this is Detective Cooper.” I glanced up at the woman.

  “Do you know why we’re here, Libby?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about the events on the evening of,” the man paused to flip open a notepad, “October 29th and into the morning of the 30th.”

  Dad stepped sideways, putting himself between me and the detectives. “I think we should wait for Diane.”

  “Of course, Mr. Thorne. It’s her right to have her lawyer present.” The man glanced down at his watch and sighed loudly. “We’ll wait.”

  The feeling in the room was intense. One detective, arms folded, rocking back and forth on his heels, the other scraping at something crusty on her jacket. My parents, still as statues, eyes anxiously glued to the door, waiting for Diane.

  Please make this be over.

  “I’ll answer their questions,” I said.

  Dad quickly shook his head. “No.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I don’t remember anything anyway.” I thought I should do this, show them that I wanted to help.

  “Just a few questions, Mr. Thorne,” the woman soothed. “It’s all very casual.”

  The man clicked his pen and slid it into his pocket. “Strictly off the record. I won’t even take notes.”

  Dad pressed his lips together in a straight line and didn’t look happy. Mom edged herself closer to my bed, in a protective kind of way. “She doesn’t remember … uh … the actual accident.”

  The woman looked at my mom. Something passed between them. “That’s fine, Mrs. Thorne. We’ve spoken to her doctor. We won’t push.”

  “We’ll take anything we can get for now,” the man added.

  For now. It sounded ominous and I reached for Mom’s hand. “Libby. Perhaps you could start by telling us what you do remember about that night. You attended a house party at a …” the man glanced at his notepad, “Victoria Williams’s?”

  Tori’s.

  I nodded.

  “And you were drinking at this party?”

  There was no point in denying it. I knew they knew. “Yes,” I answered, avoiding looking at Mom and Dad.

  “Do you remember how much you had to drink?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  The woman spoke. “We interviewed several people at the party. They said you were seen at a gathering prior to the party, in the woods?”

  “In the woods …?” I repeated. And then I remembered.

  Kasey was dragging me along a dirt path. “Everyone’s meeting in the Buggy Trail. We have to start early so we’ll have time to sober up.” Through the trees I saw the fire, smelled the smoke, heard the snapping and crackling. Kasey was holding a giant ice cream container filled with vodka and pink lemonade. We sat together on a log. “Squeeze the rim together so it’s not so wide. You don’t want to dribble.” It looked disgusting with the pulp.

  “Pink floaties,” I said to myself.

  “Pardon?”

  My eyes swam with tears, and I blinked furiously to keep them from falling. “Yes, I was there. I was in the woods.”

  “Drinking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember how long you were there?”

  “No.”

  “You had your mother’s car …” He consulted his notes. “A 1989 Ford Escort. One of your friends, a Miss Sarah Roberts, said you dropped a number of them at the woods, left to park the car, then walked back to join them. Do you remember doing that?”

  I thought about it for a second. “No.”

  He paused and scratched his chin. I could hear the sound of his nails dragging across his stubble. He finally continued. “You spent most of the party in the company of a Mr. Caleb McInnis. People said you two seemed pretty friendly.”

  Even though Mom had already told me that we’d left the party together, I still couldn’t get my head around it. Why? Why would I do that? I was about to suggest that the people they talked to were maybe mistaken, or that they thought I was someone else, when an image took shape in my head. I could see him, Cal. His eyes were the darkest grey blue — like the lake at our cottage on a rainy day. He hooked his finger under the neckline of my T-shirt and pulled me towards him. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. “You know, not everyone knows this about me, but I’ve got a real thing for cheerleaders.” Cheerleaders? What did that even mean? And why was I letting him touch me? Where the hell was Nate? So confused, I momentarily forgot I was supposed to be answering a question, almost forgot what the question was.

  I licked my lips. “We were just hanging out together, that’s all …”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “I — I don’t. That was the first time I met him.”

  Again he checked his notepad. “You were seen leaving the party with him at approximately 11:30. Is that correct?”

  I racked my brains, but there was nothing there. “I don’t know. I don’t remember,” I said, trying hard to resist the urge to break down. Everything they said made me sound so awful.

  “Do you have any idea where you may have been going?” the woman asked.

  “I had to have the car home by twelve … I must have been going home.”

  The two detectives looked at each other but said nothing. I couldn’t help but think they didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth.

  Then the woman asked, “So you remember getting in the car, leaving the party?”

  It may have only been a spasm, or nerves, but I thought Mom squeezed my hand.

  “I think that’s enough questions for now,” Dad announced, firmly. “Like she said, she doesn’t remember.”

  The man stood. “Okay, Mr. Thorne. We’ll be in touch, obviously.” He closed his notepad and shot a glance at Dad that seemed to last a little too long.

  “Yes. Of course,” Dad answered.

  I wanted to ask them what was going to happen to me but something held me back.

  As the woman walked by Dad she stopped. “You’ll let us know if she remembers anything else.”

  He nodded.

  The detectives left, leaving behind a silence that was starting to choke me. I wished my parents had followed them out.

  Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “I know you probably want to talk to me about stuff, but could I be alone for a while?”

  They didn’t answer right away. I saw them exchanging words without speaking. “We’ll go grab a coffee,” Dad said. He reached for Mom’s arm and gently led her towards the door.

  Once again, finding the stain on the ceiling, I slowly traced the outline, magnified by the water in my eyes.

  I kept staring straight up, just tracing that outline.

  Chapter 4

  The rest of the day went by in a kind of fog. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. Stubbornly, I kept my mouth clamped shut, my body turned towards the window. I wanted to be miserable and, thankfully, everybody let me.

  That night I cried myself to sleep.

  In the morning, I alternated between total despair and beating myself up for not being able to remember. I tried giving them both equal time — despair was winning.

  My night had been full of dreams, nightmares, flashes of faces. There were moments when I was in some sort of half-sleep that I said to myself, “This is important, you have to remember this,” but then, in the light of day, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t.

  It was weird, though — when it came to remembering the visit from the detectives, it was crystal clear. I figured my brain was so empty now, new things stuck like glue. I recalled every word that was said, every look exchanged, a
nd it made me cringe.

  I knew they had talked to people from the party. That meant everyone knew. When this was all over, we’d have to move away. It wouldn’t be easy. I’d miss Kasey, and Nate of course. But how could we stay?

  I suffered through the doctor’s visit and examination, not able to look him in the eye. It was too embarrassing. He probably couldn’t stand people like me — stupid kids who did stupid things …

  My eyes teared up again, for the hundredth time. God, I was so sick of crying, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I jammed the palms of my hands into my eye sockets as if to plug them up, but it only made my hand hurt. They had taken out my iv about an hour ago, leaving behind an ugly purple-and-blue bruise. It covered practically the whole top of my hand.

  “Special delivery,” Trina sang, breezing in carrying a vase of pink carnations, all cheerful and friendly. It irritated me. She must have known what I’d done. What was wrong with her?

  I watched her place the flowers on the windowsill. I hated the colour pink, and here I was surrounded by it. All the bouquets were pink except for the tulips on the end. Those were purple, my favourite. They had to be from Kasey.

  “These were dropped off by your boyfriend …” She stopped and checked the card stuck in the plastic fork thing. “Cal.”

  “Cal?” I wasn’t quite sure what he was, but, “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.

  “Oh?” She frowned as she cleaned up some of the fallen petals and dead blooms from the other arrangements. “Are you sure? Because all these flowers are from him, you know — all the pink ones, anyway.”

  What? “Is he out there?” I asked.

  “He was. Do you want me to try and catch him? Give him a message?”

  “No!” I snapped, then instantly felt bad. “I mean, um … not right now.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I don’t know why he keeps coming here. He’s known me for, like, five minutes. Apparently I almost killed him. You’d think he’d stay as far away as possible.”

  Trina twisted up her mouth as she took my temperature. “Well, you must have made some kind of impression. He seems pretty worried about you. Maybe he really likes you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I already have a boyfriend.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”