Live to Tell

by Lisa Harrington

  I got the feeling I was supposed to know this. “That um, um …”

  “Think about it …”

  Pull over. I told him to pull over. The words bounced around in my head then my mouth fell open. “Oh my God.” Little tingles popped out all over my skin. “I told Cal to pull over. He was driving!”

  There was a moment of complete silence. “You got him,” Kasey said.

  My limbs turned to jelly with the realization of what this meant. And what this meant for me. “I got him.”

  She grinned, her smile widening by the second. “I knew you could do it.”

  Chapter 23

  Mom and Dad were in the kitchen. I was so excited I could barely get the words out. “You’re not going to believe what Kasey and I figured out!”

  Mom slowly turned from the sink.

  “Kasey had this amazing idea!” I exclaimed. “To use music.”

  Dad looked stunned. “What did you say?”

  “I know it sounds crazy.” My eyes darted back and forth between them. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

  “You saw Kasey?” Mom whispered, her face ghostly white.

  I held up my hand. “I know, I know. You can lecture me about it later — maybe after you thank her, because she’s the one who convinced me to even try this.”

  Mom reached out and seemed to steady herself against the counter. “You spoke to her?”

  “Yeah. She remembered this movie we watched. She got me to listen to music, and it brought everything back. I saw it all. It was Cal. He was the one driving the car.”

  They both stood there, frozen like statues.

  “Didn’t you hear me? The accident. It wasn’t me. It was Cal. This is great news …” My voice trailed off. Something was wrong. “Isn’t it?”

  Dad’s head dropped to his chest. When he looked up, his eyes were wet. “Libby … Kasey —”

  Mom gasped. “Jason!”

  He looked over at her. “Meredith. Don’t you hear what she’s saying?” He stepped towards me, put his hands on my shoulders, and opened his mouth to speak.

  Mom quickly crossed the room and inserted herself between us. “No!”

  I was starting to get scared and I slowly inched away. “What’s going on?”

  Dad gently moved Mom aside. “We have to tell her. We’re not doing her any favours.”

  Her face filled with anguish. “Please …”

  “Honey. It’s not working.” He shook his head. “It’s been too long.”

  My throat tightened. “What’s not working?” Silence. “Tell me.”

  “Just a bit longer,” Mom pleaded, touching his arm. “A bit more time.”

  It was like they were in their own world, and they’d forgotten I was even there.

  Dad picked up her hand and I saw him give it a squeeze before he let it go. “I don’t think more time’s going to help.” He turned back to me. “Kasey wasn’t here, honey. She … didn’t help you do whatever it was you … think you did.”

  I frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. Then a thought occurred to me. Of course they didn’t know she was here, they never do. “She uses the window. She comes and goes all the time.”

  Mom made a choking sound.

  “I can’t think of an easy way to say this, Libby.” He paused and swallowed. “It’s going to be awful no matter what words I use.”

  I started inching away again. I had an inexplicable urge to run.

  “Kasey’s dead. She’s the one you hit.”

  There was a loud roaring inside my head and all of a sudden Mom and Dad seemed very far away, like the kitchen had tripled in size. I blinked until my vision corrected, and they came back into focus.

  Dad stepped towards me, trying to wrap me in a hug, but I twisted out of his arms. “Why would you say something like that?!” I shrieked. “Mom! Why is he saying that?!”

  I waited for her to answer. She didn’t. Instead her eyes clouded over with tears.

  Starting to get angry, I banged the heels of my crutches on the floor. “What is going on here?!”

  Mom reached out and touched my cheek. “Libby, honey. That night … the accident … Kasey was walking home …”

  My mind was spinning. “What?”

  “You blocked it out. It was too much,” Mom said, her voice shaking.

  “What?” It felt as if someone was stabbing my skull with an ice pick. “You guys are nuts! What are you even —? Never mind!” I shouted. “I’ll prove it. I’ll go get her myself.”

  As fast as I could, I limped back to my room. But there was something following me, breathing down my neck. Dread. And it was a real thing, a living entity.

  My room was empty. I went to the window, scanned the front yard and driveway, hoping I could still catch her. She was gone.

  Dad’s words echoed in my ears: Kasey’s dead. She’s the one you hit.

  Pushing the window open, I leaned out further to peer down the street. There was no sign of her anywhere. I called her name, then called it again as loud as I could. She didn’t answer.

  My eyes landed on some dried-up flowers poking out from under the snow in a planter on the corner of the deck. Suddenly I remembered the flowers in the hospital. They were all from Cal. All except the purple ones. I’d thought they were from Kasey, but then: “It’s Aunt Jesse, long distance,” Mom said holding out the phone. “And she sent flowers when you were in the hospital. Don’t forget to thank her.”

  I pulled myself back in, dragging a layer of snow from the ledge with me. That’s when I noticed it. My handprints, the mark left behind from my body. They were fresh, and there were no others. Goosebumps prickled up my arms and I shivered, but not from the cold.

  That time in the hospital, when I woke up and Kasey was sitting beside my bed, I couldn’t smell her coffee. I must be getting a cold or something. Coffee smell usually grosses me out.

  My heart began to hammer in my chest, banging against my rib cage.

  Nervously licking my lips, I stuck my head back out the window and looked straight down. The snow on the porch below lay perfectly smooth and undisturbed. There were no footprints, not even old ones.

  And her phone. She never once answered. Where were you?! I called you like a zillion times!

  Right then a gust of wind picked up. The bare branches of the azalea bush scraped against my window making a ticking sound.

  I slid down the wall and crumbled in a heap like a broken doll as images tore through me … one after another …

  The Frank article. I sucked in my breath. Emma! I saw your picture in Daddy’s magazine … the boy who saved you looks like Zac … That’s why I kept it for you.

  The party. When I finally realized my drive had magically disappeared, I had to boot it out of there to get home on time — since I’d be walking.

  They just kept coming …

  I held my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please, make it stop,” I begged. “Let it just be another nightmare. Don’t let it be true.”

  Outside, another gust of wind.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Epilogue

  She turns off the ignition and we both sit quietly for a second. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No,” I tell her. “I want to go alone. Thanks.”

  “It’s on the right, about halfway down.”

  “Okay.” I stand beside the car and flex my ankle. The cast has been off for a while but my leg still feels stiff.

  There’s about an inch of fresh snow that fell overnight. I notice the path has already been cleared. It’s perfectly quiet except for my footsteps crunching on the gravel and the sound of melting snow dripping from the trees.

  I find her spot. It stands out because it’s not flat like the others in the row. For a long time I stare down at the uneven earth, not sure what to do. There’s a small bouquet of yellow daisies. They’re withered and turning brown, mostly covered by the new snow. I glance back at Mom in the car. I know she’s watching me and I
shift my body so she can’t see my face.

  Leaning down, I brush off some snowflakes clinging to the front of the stone. A twinge of pain shoots up my leg as I kneel to get in closer, sweeping my mittened hand back and forth until it’s all clean. It’s charcoal grey, and the sun makes the flecks in the granite sparkle, like it’s been touched by fairy dust.

  My knees are soon soaked but I don’t care. I pull off one of my mitts and trace the carved words with my finger. My breath forms a cloud of smoke in front of my face as I read them out loud.

  In Memory

  Kassandra Lynn Evans

  July 6, 1995 – November 25, 2011

  Cherished Daughter, Sister, Friend

  Always Loved

  Never Forgotten

  My heart breaks.

  I want to talk to her, but it seems silly. I don’t believe she can hear me. Dead is dead. Dr. Sharpe told me I should try talking to Kasey, though. She said it might help me, that it was part of the healing process and maybe it didn’t matter if I believed or not.

  I sit quietly until finally I find my voice. “Sorry about the funeral.” It’s the first thing that comes out, the first of so many things I want to apologize for. “About not going.” My eyes pool with tears. “I couldn’t do it.”

  A car horn honks and I look around thinking it’s Mom. It’s not. Other people must be here talking to other graves.

  “We were right about Cal. He was the one driving,” I say. “I should have listened to you right from —” I hear myself and stop. “I mean me. I should have listened to me.” But that doesn’t sound right either. “I was you. You were me.” That doesn’t sound much better.

  I feel so alone.

  “I see a therapist now.” I pick a chunk of wet snow off the bottom of my jeans. “I didn’t want to at first. But, well, it just seemed as if I wasn’t getting any better — things weren’t getting any better. It kind of felt like I was watching myself fade away. So yeah. I changed my mind. Her name’s Dr. Sharpe. You’d really like her. She’s kind of a no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is type of person. She reminds me of you.” I catch a drip on the tip of my nose with my mitten. It leaves a dark spot behind. “She said my mind couldn’t process what happened, that I had to forget to survive. I still don’t understand all of it. How I was able to see you, talk to you. She tells me I’m not crazy …”

  It’s getting easier the more I talk, so I keep going. “I guess she’s helping. I still sort of think there’s something wrong with me.” I twist up my mouth. “Wish she could tell me how I could have been so blind about Cal — how I could let him totally play me. But that’s probably a whole other issue, right?”

  A small bird lands on the top of Kasey’s grave. Little black eyes blink at me while its head bobs up and down. Seconds later, it flutters away, leaving behind a scattering of tiny prints in the snow.

  “He set the car on fire, Kase. The accident investigator said the car lighter was in the gas tank. Proved the fire had been deliberately set.” Anger churns in the pit of my stomach. “Not too bright, huh? Apparently he was just supposed to light something on fire and chuck it in the gas tank. At least that’s what he said Julia told him to do. The lighter went in by mistake.”

  I wipe my nose again. “She denies it. Only admits to lying about seeing me drive away from the party. Says she did it to protect her brother — doesn’t seem very concerned about him now, though. Anyhow, the police traced all their cell calls from that night, so I don’t think her story’s going to hold up.”

  Voices off in the distance make me look up. It’s a small truck and a work crew a few rows over. I watch, willing them to move in the opposite direction. They do.

  “Cal’s trying to convince the police he’s not a bad person. That it was Julia’s idea to put me in the driver’s seat and torch the car. Oh. They thought I was dead, by the way. Did I mention that? So their thinking was, no harm done, why ruin two lives?” I rub my forehead, still finding it hard to believe. “But I guess I coughed or something from the smoke, and he pulled me out … says that should count for something.”

  I reach forward and shake off some of the snow coating Kasey’s daisies. “It’s like he forgot all about what happened to you, though. What does he think that should count for?” I ask the question, knowing no answer exists.

  “He must have been scared shitless when I didn’t die. Probably thought he’d hit the jackpot when I couldn’t remember anything. Wonder what his plan was, like for if my memory did come back — that’d I’d be so in love with him he’d be able to convince me I was mistaken? That he could talk me into anything? That’s my bet.”

  A siren wails. The cemetery is only a block from the hospital. Probably an ambulance. The sound gets closer. Trina comes to mind and I wonder if she ever got my letter. “You know how Trina was always in my nightmares? I could never quite see her clearly though, it was more of an impression, a feeling …” A lump forms in my throat. “But of course it wasn’t Trina. It was you, Kasey. In your nurse costume. I saw you. On the sidewalk. Right before the car hit. You turned. But it was too late.” My voice breaks. “I saw your face. Only I couldn’t let myself remember it.”

  I hang my head and sob, my whole body shaking. “Did you see mine? Did you know it was me? I hope not …” Tears drip from my chin and disappear into the snow. “I wasn’t driving, Kase, but I may as well have been. This should never have happened, not to you … I’m so sorry.”

  My heart feels heavy, weighed down in sadness. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to not feel this way. “Dr. Sharpe tells me I need to let go, stop thinking about the ‘what ifs,’ and the ‘if onlys,’ let some time pass, things will start to improve …” I pause and shake my head, strings of snot dangle from my nose and I use my coat sleeve this time.

  “I hate them, Kasey,” I confess. “Cal and Julia. I’ve only said that out loud to you, not to anyone else. I know it’s wrong. Hate. It’s a horrible word. But … sometimes it feels as if that’s all I’ve got to hold on to right now.”

  The tiny bird returns and perches on the headstone. A few seconds later, another one joins him. Their heads make little jerky movements, almost in unison. I watch them, and my tears finally slow and dry on my cheeks. I can’t help thinking that they know each other, that they’re friends. They give me one last look then fly off together.

  My legs are numb from the cold, asleep from kneeling. I stand myself up and rock back and forth, from one foot to the other, until the pins and needles stop. “What do I do now, Kasey? We’ve been together since primary.” My eyes get blurry again and I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the tears won’t start. “It was easier when I was crazy. At least I still had you.” I kiss my fingers, and bend down to press them against her name. “I miss you.”

  It takes me a while to pull my hand away — I don’t want to let go.

  My appointment with Dr. Sharpe is later today. What will I tell her? That she was right? That I feel better? I’m not sure if I do, so I’d just be saying it because it’s what she wants to hear. I take a couple of deep breaths, try to play therapist on myself. It’s possible I feel better — a bit. I don’t feel any worse. Maybe Dr. Sharpe was right after all — a bit. Maybe she’s right about the other stuff too.

  I finally turn and head towards the car. Even from this distance, I can see Mom’s expression. She raises her hand to wave but then stops, like she’s unsure, like she’s having second thoughts. I give her a slight wave, a tiny smile, and watch the worry melt from her face. As I walk along the path, the sun beats down on my head, the back of my neck, and I feel a hint of warmth, the promise of spring.

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly to my family, Ross, Lexi, and William. Your support and (for the lack of a better word) tolerance have meant the world to me.

  An extra shout out to Lexi and her friend, Sarah Dobson, for going above and beyond the call of duty.

  To everyone at Dancing Cat Books, especially Barry Jowett and Bryan Jay Ibeas. Thank you
for somehow managing to make me feel your enthusiasm even though it was long distance.

  Lastly, a giant thank you to my writing group, Jo Ann Yhard, Daphne Greer, Graham Bullock, Joanna Butler, and Jennifer Thorne. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. See you Thursday night.