A van arrives hauling a red kayak and two heavy canoes. My heart stops when the driver gets out. It can’t be. He removes his sunglasses, and I start breathing again. For a moment, I thought it was Adam. The guy looks so much like him—shaggy blond hair, chiseled jaw line, defined biceps. My face flushes and he throws me a curious glance. Way to draw even more attention to myself despite the fact that I’m apparently the only person of color on the premises.
“Are you all here for the one o’clock excursion?” Adam’s clone steps forward, addressing the two fathers. He obviously thinks we’re together in one big group, even though we’re not.
The boys bolt, leaving me alone. The driver consults his passenger list as they climb into the van. The ignition is still running and all of the doors are thrown open. I sling my pack over my shoulder and proceed toward them while still keeping my distance. No one seems too concerned about me. Once they’re all inside the van, the driver leaves me standing there while he counts out the appropriate number of lifejackets.
“Excuse me? Don’t you need my name?” I’m a little annoyed. Damn it, I’m a paying customer too.
“I wasn’t sure if you were with them or not.” He gives me a quick grin while loading the back of the van with more equipment. “I’ll be right with you.”
I tap my flip-flop against the gravel as anger burns within me. This day is hard enough for me as it is, asshole. There’s no need to make it even harder. A little consideration would be nice. Especially since it’s the anniversary of my best friend’s death.
***
Gloria was the one person in high school who was nice to me. She was kind of an outcast herself. So on the first day of freshman year, it was such a relief when she started talking to me after the opening assembly. Everyone else was chatting away. Many knew each other since grade school, but my mom was only able to get enough cash together to pay for my last four years—the ones that counted when it came to applying to colleges. So when I found out Gloria and I were in the same homeroom, it made things a lot easier.
We were inseparable all the way through our senior year. Our lockers were in the same row. We chose our electives together so our schedules would match up. We joined clubs like yearbook and SADD, and Gloria would drive me home in her mom’s Volvo. Too bad both of us didn’t follow through on our sobriety pledge.
After the homecoming dance, Gloria hooked up with Ryan, the tight end of the football team. I didn’t go to the afternoon game, but apparently Gloria hung out with a few of the cheerleaders on the sidelines. Their thermoses of juice were spiked with vodka and they willingly supplied Gloria with more than she cared to drink. They were laughing at her by having fun at her expense. And I wasn’t there to protect her.
Since Jason went to public school, it took me nearly an hour to convince him to accompany me to the dance. He didn’t want to socialize with a bunch of private school kids, and I understood where he was coming from. But it was my last year, and I really wanted to go with my boyfriend. Eventually, he caved but we got there late.
By the time we entered the streamer-adorned gymnasium, Gloria was a mess. Her mascara was smudged. Her hair was coming loose. And Ryan was all over her. So much so, that the chaperones repeatedly attempted to separate them. I tried to intervene, but Gloria screamed at me to get away from her, saying that I was jealous that she was with Ryan and I was stuck with Jason. She finally had a real boyfriend, and the last thing she wanted was my getting in the way of her new relationship.
After she yelled at me in front of the whole school, I turned on my heel and marched out the door as Jason trailed behind me. I cried the entire ride home and didn’t even tell Jason goodbye when he dropped me off. I hadn’t felt so betrayed since the ordeal with my father. It hurt so much.
Monday morning, word got around that Ryan had coerced Gloria into the backseat of his car…right in the school parking lot. He was bragging about it to anyone who would listen. When Gloria went running up to him in the hallway between classes, he loudly announced he was dumping her to everyone within earshot. Utterly humiliated, she hid in the nurse’s office until her mom came to pick her up.
I tried calling her when I got home, but she refused to come to the phone. Three days later, when she returned to school, she was a shadow of her former self. The light had gone out of her eyes as she shuffled through the crowd with her head down. For a while, students continued to taunt her until they got bored with harassing her and moved on to a new target.
I employed every method possible to get her to talk to me. But when I’d sit by her at lunch, she’d ignore me without saying a word. It was like I wasn’t even there. For months, I tried to reach out to her, but she rebuffed my every attempt. It was only days before graduation that she finally reached out to me.
At about nine o’clock on a Friday night, she called me and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Thrilled to hear her voice, I immediately said yes. We had so much we needed to talk about, and I didn’t want high school to end with the two of us on the outs. I was hopeful that at last she was seeing things clearly and we could go back to the way things were before homecoming.
When she beeped the horn of the Volvo, I sprinted out the door and reclaimed my familiar place in the passenger seat. Her expression was dazed, and that should have set off alarm bells right there, but I chose to ignore what my instincts were telling me. She’s drunk. Get out of the car. But I was too desperate to mend things with my best friend.
She didn’t say anything until we reached an isolated spot on the outskirts of town. We were on a narrow, twisty road without any streetlights. She turned on her high beams but she didn’t slow down. All her words came out in a rush. How Ryan raped her and how several members of the football team watched. How he threatened her that if she went to the police he would stash heroine in her locker and make it look like it was hers. How she ended up pregnant and got an abortion on her own without anyone knowing. Not Ryan. Not her parents. Not even me.
The revelations were staggering, and I felt like such a jerk for not being there for her when she needed me the most. I should have known something was up. I was a terrible friend to her. Why did I give up on her so easily? She was pushing me away because she was in an incredible amount of pain that she didn’t know how to deal with. She was crying out for help, and I did nothing but walk away and turn my back on her.
She was hysterical behind the wheel. Tears streamed down her face. The windshield was fogged up, and she couldn’t see where she was going. We came to a sharp curve in the road, and she wasn’t ready for it. We hit the tree head on. Before I could say I was sorry. Before I had the chance to tell her it would all be okay. Before I could give her a hug and ease the burden surrounding her heart.
She hit the tree at an angle. The incident report said she swerved the wheel so the driver’s side of the vehicle would sustain the majority of the impact. In the final seconds of her life, she was trying to save mine. And she did.
Her air bag deployed, but she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Her head shattered the windshield. She died on contact. I later found out her blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit, but I knew the trauma of her confession was what really caused the crash. The weight of the entire year collapsed upon her. I should have had her pull over, but I was too overwhelmed by what she was telling me. I didn’t think. I failed her, yet again.
I don’t remember being pried out of the mangled metal and broken glass. When I awoke, I was on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance with a kind face looking down on me. I was riddled with cuts and bruises, but the only major injury I sustained was a broken rib. The paramedic gently dabbed the dried blood covering my forehead. I winced when I attempted to look around the back of the rig. I needed to find Gloria, but he held my head, urging me to calm down. But I couldn’t. I fought against his hold and sat up as a jolt of searing pain shot through my body. Helpless, I sank back against the stretcher as he told me Gloria didn’t make it.
I cried so much I didn’t think I would e
ver stop. He proceeded to attend to my injuries while he tried to comfort me. Despite my condition, I noticed his heartfelt display of empathy. And it made me cry even harder. I lost my best friend. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t going to graduate. She wasn’t going to college. She was never going to get married…or have any kids.
I swallowed a wail of anguish as the details of what she told me came flooding back. Gloria was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. A baby she didn’t want. A baby she got rid of in secret. No one even knew it had existed. It’s like it never happened. Ryan assaulted her then humiliated her. He left her to clean up the consequences of his criminal act. No one came to her rescue. She was violated in every possible way, yet she still managed to walk in that school day after day and face the insults of her attacker, the father of her never-to-be-born child.
Distraught, I was wheeled into the hospital barely cognizant of my surroundings. My mind and body were stretched beyond their capacity to cope. I yearned for something to ease the pain and send me into a state of oblivion. The kind paramedic gazed at me as I became dizzy watching the ceiling tiles fly by overhead. Before turning me over to the emergency room staff, he grasped my hand and told me I was going to be okay.
The events after the accident were a blur from Gloria’s funeral to graduation. Life continued to happen, but I didn’t feel a part of it. I was detached as I floated on the periphery, barely conscious of what was going on. The only thing that stuck out in my mind was that paramedic. He was my last connection to Gloria. Weeks later, I decided to track him down after uncovering his name when I combed through the accident reports.
I found him at the downtown station as he waxed one of the ambulances in the garage. He seemed surprised to see me, but he recognized me right away. He asked me how I was doing. I told him how my injuries were improving. But we both knew what wasn’t being said.
“I just wanted to thank you in person for all that you did for me…and for Gloria.” I was determined to get the message across, regardless of how difficult it was to verbalize. He needed to hear it. He deserved to hear it.
“What are you going to do now?” He kept his gaze fixed on me as he wiped a rag across the hood of the ambulance. He gave me my space. He didn’t crowd me or back me into a corner. He knew how to listen.
“I have absolutely no idea. I was supposed to go to Syracuse University with my boyfriend, but I changed my mind. Things are different now.” I shrugged my shoulders like it was no big deal. Who cared what happened to me? Now that Gloria was dead.
He paused in what he was doing and walked over to a row of pamphlets that lined the wall. He selected some and handed them to me. “Here’s some food for thought.” He monitored my reaction as I read the front covers. They were all about how to become a paramedic, and as crazy as it might sound, it felt like the perfect fit.
“No one was able to save your friend, but there are others out there who could use your help. Think about it.” He studied me carefully before backing away as his comm unit came to life.
Before he could grab the mic, I shouted, “Thank you, sir.”
He winked at me and yelled back, “Charlie. Call me, Charlie.”
***
“What’s your name again?” The Adam look-alike is peering at me expectantly. His blue eyes gaze up at me through his sandy lashes as he scans the list. I’m momentarily startled. I can’t believe I let my thoughts drift like that. I came here to keep the past at bay, not dredge it up.
Clearing my throat, I try to pull myself together. “Jada Martin.”
He skims the paper with his index finger and highlights the line displaying my information. “You booked a kayak, right?”
“Yep.” My mind is a thousand miles away, but I try to focus on what he is saying.
“And you’re by yourself? Have you ever gone kayaking before?” Great, he thinks I’m some kind of weirdo. He doesn’t know the half of it.
“Yeah, about two years ago.” It was a disastrous trip with Jason where we argued more than anything. I was hormonal and it started to rain. Wet and miserable, we pulled ourselves down the river, complaining the whole time. It wasn’t a day to add to the highlight reel of our relationship.
“So you know what you’re doing?” His phrasing unsettles me. Of course I don’t know what I’m doing. I never do.
“Yeah, sure.” His gaze holds me a beat longer than necessary. C’mon, man. I’m not going to drown. I’ll be wearing a faded red flotation device around my neck. I’ll be fine.
“Well, climb aboard.” He gestures to the last remaining seat in the van next to a scrawny boy with classes talking excitedly to his friend in the back. Their voices are loud in the confines of the van. It’s going to be a long ten-minute ride to the launch point.
I’m positioned directly behind the driver as the fathers prattle on about how they’d love to take the boys on a kayak trip around the Statue of Liberty. I give my head the slightest of shakes. These young kids…on the Hudson River…in the middle of New York Harbor—are they crazy? It’s probably my paramedic instincts kicking in, but I don’t even want to picture it.
We’re driving parallel to the side of a mountain. The summit is several hundred feet off the ground, but there’s a row of graffiti right at the top. It lists different class years from those who graduated from the local high school going all the way back to the 1980s. It must be some kind of tradition to hang over the edge with a can of spray paint while being held by the ankles. I wonder if anyone has fallen while attempting it. It doesn’t look like it’s the safest prank in the world. Too bad all I want to do is forget the end of my high school career, not remember it.
As we turn onto a residential street, one of the fathers relates to the other how he relishes traveling overseas for his pharmaceutical job. It makes him feel like he’s a bachelor again, and his friend concurs. The boys are distracted, talking about who’s going to ride in which canoe. They don’t hear their fathers bemoaning their status as family men. It seems like no one’s truly satisfied. Good job? Healthy kids? Nice house? It’s never good enough. Nope, they feel trapped by their responsibilities. But so far they’re sticking around. My dad sure didn’t.
Pulling onto a rocky beach, I’m jostled in my seat and accidentally bump the driver’s headrest. He shoots me a perturbed glance in the rearview mirror. He’s reminding me more of Adam by the minute. I stifle a laugh as three of his coworkers approach the van. They’re running their mouths about some party they went to last night, barely paying attention to the customers they’re here to serve. Begrudgingly, they unload the boats and begin placing them in the water.
The boy with the glasses jumps into one of the floating canoes and slips on the wet surface, banging his head on one of the metal seats. He really wants to burst into tears, but everyone is watching him. Sniffling, he rubs the red bump forming on his forehead. I’m about to step forward and make sure he’s okay when one of the workers calls me over.
Sliding my arms through my lifejacket, I attempt to steady myself as I place one foot into the kayak. My balance is off and the worker steadies me by reaching out with his hand. I’m embarrassed that he’s touching me. Heat fills my face as I crouch into position. My shorts ride up, exposing more of my legs than I’d like. The other workers have already launched the two canoes and they wade over to me, their strides churning through the water. I’m alone as they start chortling amongst themselves. I need them to push me off the rocky bottom, but if they’re not going to help me then I’ll do it myself.
Using my double-sided paddle, I wedge it against the stones holding me in place. But I’m stuck. I hate being dependent on people, especially these clowns. What, do they expect me to sit here all day? Noticing my distress, the van driver breaks away from the pack and sloshes up to the rear of the boat. The others quickly join him as they make rude comments under their breath that I’m still able to hear. They’re not fooling anybody. Together, they shove my kayak into the current. Paddling with all my might, I d
on’t look back at the catcalls issued behind me. They can kiss my ass.
Once on the water, I quickly skirt by the two canoes. They’re super heavy. With one father rowing in each one, it’s going to take them hours to get down the river. Moving at a snail’s pace, the boys appear bored already. Good luck, fellas. You’re going to need it.
It’s not long before I put some distance between us, and I’m by myself gliding across the surface. It’s quiet enough for me to hear the chime of a text message hitting my phone. I really don’t want to check to see who it is, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Carefully, I settle the oar across the width of the kayak and slide my backpack onto my lap. Rummaging through the pocket, I turn on my phone. My heart does a little somersault when I see the text is from Adam.
TRI-COUNTY’S SWAMPED. THEY NEED US TONIGHT. CAN YOU MAKE IT IN?
It’s a holiday weekend. They’re understaffed and trying to deal with a high volume of calls. It makes sense that Adam’s sick leave is coming to an abrupt end. I can’t leave him hanging.
I CAN MAKE IT BACK BY 5.
His response is immediate. WHERE R U?
I take a picture showing the bow of the kayak with the river streaming in front of me and send it to him.
THEY WANT US FOR 3-11 BUT I CAN HOLD THEM OFF UNTIL YOU MAKE IT IN. SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOUR DAY WITH YOUR BF.
I only mentioned Jason in passing a couple of times without getting into any detail. But it strikes me that Adam made note of the fact that I have a boyfriend. Half the time, I don’t think he’s paying attention to half the stuff I’m saying, but he picked up on that. Hmm…that’s interesting.
I’M NOT WITH MY BF. I’M BY MYSELF. For some reason, I feel compelled to tell him this. I just do.
YOU SHOULD’VE LET ME KNOW. I WOULD’VE GONE WITH YOU.
And that line makes me melt. I thought we were pretty much not speaking to each other, but it seems like he’s trying to make amends. And I’ve missed him over the course of these last two weeks. I’m not going to lie. He’s gotten under my skin. But I still need to play it cool. He’s a heartbreaker. I can’t allow myself to fall for him. He could have a girl with him right now for all I know.
Come What May (Heartbeat) Page 7