18 Truths

by Jamie Ayres

  Visit her website at: www.jamieayres.com

  Photo Credit: Owl Sisters Photography

  “Every heart sings a song incomplete,

  until another heart whispers back.”

  —Plato

  ll it took was one quick glance away from the road, one look at the guy racing me, one second of distraction… a slow veering of the steering wheel to the left that sent me skidding in the wrong direction.

  As our cars collided, a loud thud vibrated through the air, and the car I drove jerked sideways. I lurched forward at the swaying of the vehicle’s weight, slamming my head against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed and punched me in the face. The sun glared off the hood of the car, blinding me as I groped for the wheel, trying to brake. Braking too hard, braking too late, the car going airborne.

  For one split second, I was flying, my shaggy hair whipping back from my head, the trees on the side of the road waving to me in the peripheral of my vision. I screamed, yelled a prayer for help. Then Dad’s Monte Carlo landed, flipped on its side, and ejected me from my seat. A shattering of glass pierced my skin in the process, and then I was flying again, all on my own. As I sailed through the air this time, I squeezed my eyes shut.

  No seatbelt ever strained against my chest.

  I hadn’t meant to forget that safety feature when I decided to drag race another student home from school today. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for making wise decisions. Being forced to move to a small town three hours away the summer before my senior year would suck, but this was a gazillion times worse. If I didn’t die now, my parents just might kill me.

  The asphalt slapped me hard as I skidded across the road before landing in a heap of weeds and rocks. The atmosphere smelled of smoke, metal, hay, and freshly turned graves. Lying in the field, my blood oozed out faster than a waterfall. Dad’s car looked like one giant, crushed soda can. Bo, the other kid racing me, remained in the driver’s seat of his car, unconscious, seatbelt securely fastened. His vehicle was still in one piece, but completely turned upside down.

  I tried getting up to help him, but winced instead. The shock of the accident wore off and panic set in with the pain. Every part of me hurt. My nose must be broken. I cried out as if my heart were broken, too, and maybe it was.

  How long will it be until I bleed to death? I looked at my skin, now a red body suit, patches of it missing, ripped off by the pavement. Blood covered every single inch of me, and I sensed more oozing out, gaining speed just like the car had before I wrecked.

  I cried now, screaming for anyone to help, but no one came. We were on a deserted highway. No cars rushed past, no screeching sirens heralded our rescue. Instead, wild sunflowers lined the dusty road; their heads nodding in the wake of our car crash like a cheerful welcoming committee to the afterlife.

  Using all my strength, I slid my hand into my jean’s pocket, praying my cell phone hadn’t fallen out. Trembling, I painfully dialed 9-1-1. When the operator asked what my emergency was, I opened my mouth to speak but gagged on the words instead. I couldn’t remember who I was, or why I called, or anything. I just stared up at the fluffy clouds dotting the perfect blue sky, and drifted away into the subconscious of my mind.

  I’d always been a thinker. Confucius, Plato, Aristotle… those were my heroes. One day, I hoped to join the ranks of the greatest philosophers of all time. But all the thoughts I needed eluded me now.

  In my English III class this year, our teacher had us create a list of personal belief statements for one of our journal entries. Most of the students scoffed, complaining the assignment was a total waste of time. I think they just didn’t know what they believed yet, and were afraid of producing anything that couldn’t be summed up in a text message.

  For whatever reason, the thoughts I wrote down for Mrs. Seaton scrolled through my mind now, like a playlist, as I ignored the emergency operator’s pleas for me to answer her.

  I believe you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life. I believe it’ll take me a long time to become the person I want to be. I believe you should always leave loved ones with loving words because you never know when your time is up. I believe you can keep going long after you think you can’t. I believe we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel. I believe either you control your attitude, or it controls you. I believe that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you are down will be the ones to help you get back up. I believe sometimes I have the right to be mad, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel. I believe just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have. I believe maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated. I believe it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others; sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself. I believe that no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

  I believe our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become. I believe you shouldn’t be so eager to find out a secret because it could change your life forever. I believe two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different. I believe people who don’t even know you can change your life in a matter of seconds. I believe even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help. I believe the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.

  A light blinded me, forcing my eyes into a squint. My face pressed against the few warm blades of grass surrounding my pounding head. Time slowed, and darkness began to close in on me like the heavy curtains that signaled the end of a performance. I pulled in a final reedy breath.

  I believed I might be dead now.

  In the end, my thoughts were all I had to take with me.

  A TV played quietly in the corner of my hospital room… not that it mattered, since I couldn’t see the screen. An optic nerve slammed against my brain in the car accident, resulting in some serious damage. The doctors thought my blindness to be temporary, but after five full days of total darkness, I was losing hope fast.

  This was my first day of being stuck in North Ottawa Community Hospital. My drag racing earned me a total of twenty-four stitches across my left leg and abdomen, staples in the top of my head, a broken nose, temporary blindness—fingers crossed—a major blood transfusion, four broken ribs, and deep bruises and cuts covering the entire length of my body.

  Despite all of my injuries, I took a three-hour ambulance ride to Grand Haven today because Dad had to start work at his new job here. What’s worse is they set me up in a room with some kid who’s been in a coma for two months, so now I had nothing to watch and nobody to talk to. Mom did her best to keep me company, but the way I constantly felt her swarming my bed made me nervous. Claiming fatigue, I encouraged her to go set up our new house while I rested.

  I heard the door swoosh open.

  “Lunch time already?”

  Someone yelped in surprise. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize Conner had a new roommate.” A girl laughed nervously.

  Oh my gosh. New roomie is h-o-t, even if he is all bandaged up. With my luck, he’s probably gay… What am I even saying? My best friend is in a coma! Who cares about Mr. Hottie? Ugh, what’s wrong with me these days?

  “Whoa, take it easy. You okay?”

  She cleared her throat. “Um, yeah.”

  I forced myself to smile. “I’m Nate, new in town. They just transferred me to this hospital today.”

  Nate, that has a nice ring to it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Olga.”

  “Olga has a nice ring to it, too. I’d shake your hand, but obviously, I can’t see a thing with these bandages. I’ve got this temporary blindness thing going on right now.”

  And that would be why he’s still talking to me. Oh well, bonus! I can stare
at him all day, and he won’t even know I’m being a creeper! I hope he can’t hear my heart pounding. “Wow, that… stinks.”

  Okay, this girl is kind of… different. “Pretty much sums up the situation. I drag raced another kid on my way home from the last day of school. I’m the one who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and flew through my windshield, but the other kid is the one who died. Can you believe that twist of fate?”

  And I thought I had problems. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Am I?”

  How should I know? I just met you. “Um, yes, I think so.” Great, everyone ignores me on a daily basis, but the one day, one day, I want to be left alone, the nurses give Conner Mr. Talkative as a roomie.

  I laughed at the girl’s honesty. “Oh, sorry. My mom says I suffer from verbal diarrhea. But Helen Keller said character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved. Anyway, you probably want to visit with your friend. I’ll shut up now.”

  “Um, yeah, thanks.” Who do you think you are anyway, the town troubadour?

  I let out another laugh. “Ha! That’s a good one. Most people don’t even know what that word means. You must’ve rocked the Verbal on your SAT.”

  “Huh? What word? Thanks?” As if I don’t get enough mocking at school already.

  “No, troubadour. Is Grand Haven looking for one of those?”

  The room dissolved into silence for a minute. “I didn’t say anything about a troubadour.” She said the words slowly, cautiously.

  “Yes, you did. I heard you loud and clear, even if I can’t see a thing.”

  I heard her drag a chair to her friend’s bedside. I could feel her looking at me even though I couldn’t look at her.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize I said that out loud. That sailboat boom must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. I’ve been in such a daze these past two months, I can’t tell if it’s sadness over Conner’s coma, or if I’ve suffered permanent damage myself.” Just shut up, Olga! Or Mr. Hottie will suggest a nice padded room for you the next time the nurse walks in.

  Adrenaline pumped through my veins as she referred to me as Mr. Hottie again, and I decided to call her out on my new nickname. “You think I’m hot?”

  “What? No!”

  My body tensed up. “So I’m ugly?”

  “Uh.” She cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna try to read a book to Conner.” I heard her fumbling through a bag.

  “What book did you bring?”

  “It’s a novel by Timothy Zahn called Dark Force Rising. It’s the second volume of a Star Wars trilogy he wrote. I just finished reading volume one to him last week.”

  “Hmm, Star Wars, aye? I don’t know why, but I pictured something completely different, like some bodice ripping cover.”

  She snorted. “Oh, great. So your first impression of me is I’m some bimbo incapable of stringing more than three words together without giggling?”

  Although I have to admit, I’d pick up a bodice ripping novel if this guy was half naked on the cover. Oh my gosh, why did I just think that? What is wrong with me? Conner’s not even out of the woods yet, and I’m crushing on the new kid in town?

  I expertly felt around for my glass of water and took a sip, trying to figure this chick out. “Why do you keep talking about me, to me, in the third person?”

  “Huh?”

  “You just said you’re crushing on the new kid in town, and I know I can’t see and all, but the only new kid in here is me, right?”

  She sucked in a breath. “What? Are you high on hospital meds or something? Is this some kind of twisted joke?”

  Olga sounded just as confused as I was. “No and no.”

  “Look, I don’t know why you’re messing with me, but you’re starting to freak me out.”

  Freaking her out? What did I do? Goosebumps broke out all over my body. “Sorry.” I angled my face in her direction and tried to sound sincere because it was clear to me now I was dealing with one huge batch of crazysauce. “I’ll really shut up now.”

  Yeah, you do that, and don’t forget to take your dose of Ritalin tonight! Oh, great. I need to pee. But if I walk down the hall, there’s the chance of running into Toe-touch Tammy visiting her dad, and I already had enough of her at school today. Thank God it was the last day of actual classes. Ugh, I should not have drank that second cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria on the way in. I really do need to get a grip on my caffeine addiction.

  I shook my head in frustration. “Look, Olga. I’m all for shutting up, but that’s gonna have to work both ways, all right?”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t said a word.” Her voice was quiet.

  Why is it that if there’s a freak within a mile radius, they find me? Maybe he’ll die before I get back. Oh, why do I think things like that? I’m sorry, God. I’m a horrible, horrible person. Please forgive me. But oh, man. What’s that funky smell? Is that Nate? If he’s not gonna die, somebody should really come in to give him a sponge bath soon. I could offer to help. Ugh! Seriously. What’s wrong with me? Yes, he’s hot, but he’s also a freak. You’re at the top of the class, Olga. Doesn’t take a genius girl to figure out you should stay away from him. Just read to Conner, and forget about Nate already. Or maybe I should get another coffee first. I must be suffering from sugar withdrawal. That’s why I’m having all these thoughts. Or maybe I need therapy like Mom suggested.

  I placed my hands over my ears, longing for the hours of quiet boredom I had this morning. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, the room getting smaller by the second. “Go to therapy, visit Conner, drink some coffee, or go to the bathroom. Just whatever you do, try to shut up for like two seconds. I can’t believe I apologized to you for talking too much.”

  “Excuse me?” I heard her suck in a deep breath, but she hesitated before saying anything else for a few seconds, and I basked in the silence. “Do you need me to get a doctor for you? Or some pills?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, my stance of defiance, and winced from the pain instantly shooting up my ribs. “You’re the one who needs pills! You never shut up!”

  “I haven’t even said one word!” I better get out of here.

  Was this girl a special ed student or something? I heard her chair scraping against the floor, gathering her things to leave. I wished I could see her. “Oh, really? I suppose that was some other girl who sounds exactly like you rambling on about giving me a sponge bath?”

  On second thought, maybe he needs an exorcist. Can he read my mind or something?

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! I laughed, bitterly, and winced in pain again. “Read your mind? Are you messing with me? Because I’ll have you know that teasing a blind man like that has got to be on a top ten list somewhere for how you know you’re a douche bag.”

  “I’m not messing with you! I didn’t say anything about a sponge bath.” I just thought it. I swear, this guy must be the devil or something. Get me out of here now! But is it safe for me to leave Conner unattended with him in the room? Maybe I should just press the nurse call button instead. But what would I say? Maybe I am the one who’s crazy. Maybe I’m imagining things. I’ll call Mom when I’m done here, tell her I need to see that shrink after all.

  I didn’t know if she spoke out loud and was still messing with me, or if I really could somehow read her mind. Her voice sounded frightened, sincere, even if she was crazy. Before I could offer a reply, I heard the door swish open again. “Ready to get those bandages off your eyes?” the doctor asked.

  I sat up straighter in bed, too fast, and dizziness washed over me. “Are you kidding? I’ve been counting the seconds.” And honestly, I couldn’t wait to look this Olga chick in the eyes the next time we crossed paths and see if she really was as crazy as she sounded.

  “Hello, Olga. How are you today?” my doc asked, gently guidi
ng my body into a wheelchair.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. How’s the fam doing? Did your wife like the book you bought for her birthday?” Her voice was jumpy, her words quick and high-pitched.

  I felt movement, and I only hoped it was taking me far away from the weird girl in my room.

  “Yes, she loved it! Already read the whole thing though, so I’ll have to stop by The Bookman again soon for another recommendation.”

  “Any time, Joe. Take care.”

  Her words echoed off the walls, and I could tell we were passing right by her now. I tried to ignore the goose bumps reappearing all over my body, the feel of my heartbeat speeding up. Weird. Suddenly, I didn’t want to leave her anymore. The desire to reach out and touch her hit me harder than the impact of Bo’s car, but I swallowed the urge.

  “You, too. See you soon,” Dr. Joe answered.

  After I heard the door shut behind us, I asked, “What happened to that girl in there? She said something about a sailboat boom knocking her in the head.” I kept my voice calm, uninterested, even though I was far from it.

  “I don’t know if that’s any of your business.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, but whatever happened, you might want to do a brain scan. She was acting really strange.”

  “Well, if I had to give a brain scan for every person I thought was strange, I’d be a very rich man.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I guess that depends on what you define as rich.”

  “I define rich by counting all the things I have that money can’t buy.”

  The doctor snorted. “That’s a deep thought, kid.”

  I shrugged. “That’s just how I roll.” One thing I knew for sure. After today, all my thoughts would center on this new mystery girl. And something told me she’d make a bigger fool out of me yet.