“I’m hazarding a guess your dick was doing the thinking for you.” And the bite is back.
“Yeah, well, this morning when the head on my shoulders cleared, I realized I’d really screwed up.”
“The beer goggles were that thick?” Now she sounds amused.
“Eh, more like I should’ve prioritized my responsibilities better.”
“At least one of us is getting lucky,” she mutters. “Shit. This guy is such an asshole.”
“The one in the white truck?”
“Yeah. What the hell is he doing? Fuck!”
Horns blare and tires screech, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. There’s a loud bang, and Avery’s shriek makes my entire body break out in a wave of goose bumps.
I shout her name, but there’s so much noise in the background, none of it good, and it scares the living hell out of me. It’s even worse when the metal scraping metal stops and is followed by a painful, terrifying stillness.
“Avery? Babe? You there?” My voice shakes.
I listen carefully and pick up static, horns still blaring, but they seem distant now. And then the softest whimper.
“Ave? You okay? Can you answer me?” I need to call 911, but realize she’s on a freeway, and that means someone else has probably already done that. Besides, I have no idea where exactly she is, and telling emergency services that she’s somewhere between here and Boulder isn’t at all helpful. “I need to call London!” I practically shout into the phone as I jump up off the couch.
I won’t end the call with Avery, not when she’s unresponsive and I have no idea if she’s okay or not. I throw open my door, shove one of my shoes between it and the jamb to keep it from closing, and pound on the one across the hall.
A woman lives there. I wrack my brain for her name. I think she might work in the healthcare field. I always smile and say hi, but she’s in her fifties so I haven’t really spent a whole lot of time chatting her up, since she’s outside of my dating range by about twenty years.
She throws the door open, brows pulled together, frown in place, hair wrapped in a towel, the rest of her covered in a cheetah-print housecoat. Based on her fresh face and lack of makeup, she just got out of the shower.
“Declan?” I had no idea she even knew my name.
“Hey. Hi. Can I borrow your phone? Please.”
She glances at the one I’m holding to my ear.
“It’s an emergency. Avery’s been in an accident and I can’t hang up because I’m on the line with her, with Avery, but I need to call her sister. They track each other on their phones. She’s on the freeway and I need to know where. Please.” The words are stilted and difficult to get out, full of gravel and guilt.
“Oh my God. Of course.” She rushes inside, leaving me standing at the door, unsure if I should follow her in or not.
“Ave, I’m calling London,” I say, even though she hasn’t responded with more than a whimper or a groan so far.
My hands shake, making it tough to pull up London’s contact. I’ve called her a few times over the years, mostly on those rare occasions when Avery accidentally forgets her phone at home and I need to ask her something—like where she put the tongs or if she ate all the bacon again. Fear curls in my stomach like a snake at the possibility that I may never be able to do that again. That the steak I was planning to make for her tomorrow night may never happen. That this phone call could be the very last one I’ll ever have with her. It’s scaring the living hell out of me.
Avery has been my constant for years. We’ve been friends for a long time. And that bond has only gotten stronger since we decided to pool our resources, buy a condo, and move in together. She’s been the one person I can count on before all others, and I’ve let her down in an unforgiveable way.
I have to crouch down in the hallway, suddenly light-headed. My throat is tight and it’s hard to breathe, like there’s a weight on my chest that won’t lift. My neighbor’s slippered feet appear and she crouches down with me.
I hold up my device. “Do you think you can dial the number for me, please?”
“Of course. You must be so worried about your girlfriend.” She punches in the numbers, hits call, and puts it on speaker. I don’t care that I’m currently sitting in the middle of the hallway on the less-than-clean floor. I need to know where she is and how soon I can get to her. And that an ambulance is on the way.
“Hello?” London’s uncertain voice filters into the hall.
“London, it’s Declan.”
“You better not be calling me from your one-night stand’s phone,” she says with a bite in her tone.
Obviously Avery has talked to her already today. I imagine as soon as she got in the car she called her sisters and bitched about the way I’d let her down.
“It’s my neighbor’s phone.” I glance up and give her an apologetic smile and click off speakerphone.
“Your one-night stand was your neighbor? Good lord, you are the literal worst.”
“No. That’s not … I’m borrowing her phone.” I close my eyes and clear my throat to get the next part out. “Avery’s been in an accident.”
Silence follows, tense and thick like tar. When London speaks, all of the fire is gone and in its place is panicked disbelief. “N-no she hasn’t, I was just talking to her. Like ten minutes ago. She’s fine.”
“I called her a few minutes ago. I’m still on the line with her; it’s why I’m calling you on my neighbor’s phone.” Guilt makes the words feel heavy and impossible.
Real panic sets in and she rapid-fires questions at me. “Is she okay? Oh my God, she has to be okay. I should’ve insisted on going with her. What happened? Please tell me she’s okay. Where was the accident?”
“A white pickup was tailing her. I don’t know what happened exactly, and I don’t know if she’s okay right now, and I need you to use that location app so you can tell me where she is. Then we can call 911 and give them a location. I’m sure the ambulance is on the way, but I want to know where they’re taking her.”
“Oh my God. Oh God.” She calls for Harley, and they have a muffled conversation while her youngest sister pulls up the app and finds out where exactly the accident is. Once they pinpoint the location, I pull it up on a map. It’s an hour away. And I still need to get my car.
“You were supposed to be with her!” London says. “And now she’s alone in her car and we have no idea if she’s even okay!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“Harley and I are going to head toward the accident site.” She practically chokes on the words.
“If I find out where they’re taking her, I’ll let you know.”
“If she’s not okay, I will never speak to you again.” And with that, London ends the call.
* * *
I rush to put on my shoes, grab my wallet and my keys, and order an Uber. I talk to Avery the entire time, telling her I’m on my way and that London and Harley are too. I promise her she’s going to be okay, even though I’m not sure she is. Why isn’t she responding? I hate that this happened. I hate that I should’ve been with her, and now I’m not. I’m worried about London and Harley making the trip to the hospital on their own and how scared they must be.
The trip to get my SUV feels like it takes an eternity. By the time the faint sound of sirens can finally be heard in the background, I’ve been on the call with Avery for more than twenty minutes. Just as I slide behind the driver’s seat of my SUV, I hear the voice of an EMT.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me? Ma’am?”
I listen for Avery’s voice, but I can’t hear anything beyond the wind and faint voices that don’t match hers.
“We have another victim here. Weak pulse. She’s pinned and bleeding. We gotta get her out and we need to move fast.”
My stomach churns as images I don’t like flash through my mind. I start shouting, hoping that if I can hear him, he can hear me too.
“Hello? Is there someone else i
n the car?” Alarm fills his voice.
“I’m on the phone. Hands-free, should be on the dash.” It’s always where Avery keeps her phone when she’s driving. “Her name is Avery Spark. She keeps her ID in the back of her phone. She’s twenty-eight years old and she has a medical plan. She has pins in her ankle from a break when she was in her teens, but no other medical issues.”
“Are you her boyfriend or husband, sir?”
“She’s my best friend. Is she gonna be okay? Do you know what hospital you’re taking her to?”
“We’ll be taking her to Mountain General, outside of Golden. Do you know where that is?”
She was on the last leg of the trip, which makes me feel even worse. “I can find it. I’m on my way now. Is she okay?”
“She’s breathing, and we’re going to do our best. I need to end the call now. Drive safe, sir.”
The phone goes silent, severing my lifeline to Avery. I immediately tell my GPS to take me to Mountain General and call London to tell her to head there too. It’s the longest hour and thirteen minutes of my life. I think about the way Avery is whenever she’s in the passenger seat and I’m driving in the rain. How she bites her fingernails and pulls her knees up to her chest. She rests her forehead on her knees, so she doesn’t have to look at what’s happening outside of the car. She’ll turn the music up and put on a chill playlist, one she knows by heart so she can sing all the songs.
I always make fun of her and tell her she should’ve tried out for American Idol or something. She has a decent voice though, the kind that’s perfect for singing lullabies. I would give anything to hear that again.
When I get to the hospital, I find Harley and London in the waiting room, both in tears.
London rushes me. “This is your fault!” Her fists connect with my chest. Harley’s face is etched through with fear and sadness. She pushes unsteadily out of her chair, eyes red, but so stoic as she grabs for London’s swinging fist.
I shake my head. I deserve London’s anger and her wrath because she’s right: I’m the reason Avery is here, in this hospital. I’m the reason she was driving her car and not my SUV, and I’m the reason she was alone.
And I’m the reason they’re reliving one of the worst times of their lives again, except it’s not their parents who have been in the accident this time, it’s their older sister. The one who has been there for them through every single heartbreak and tear.
Despite their grandmother taking the three of them in, Avery still took on the role of head of the family after her parents died. She’s integral to the foundation of their family, and I’d knocked the footing out from under them.
I let London pummel me until the fight drains out of her and she wilts against me, sobbing uncontrollably. I’ve been to plenty of family functions over the years. I’ve been Avery’s backup wedding date on multiple occasions, particularly when she doesn’t want to be asked when she’s going to settle down. I’ve attended family birthdays; I got Avery shitfaced on her twenty-first and then dealt with the aftermath—which wasn’t pretty. I’ve even been to family Christmas and Thanksgiving.
I’ve been there through a lot of ups and downs, seen Avery through the bad times and the good. But I have never, ever felt so devastatingly responsible than I do for what’s brought us all here.
I wrap my arms around London, soaking in her pain. I thought I disliked myself this morning when the fog cleared, but it has nothing on how much I loathe myself right now.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I hate you so much right now,” London sobs into my chest. She’s tall, taller than Avery, but willowy instead of strong. I hold her up, taking most of her weight.
“Not as much as I hate myself,” I promise her.
She pulls herself together and pushes away from me. Turning to face the windows, she wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
“Do we know anything yet?” I ask Harley, who is the less emotionally reactive of Avery’s sisters, and also the least likely to hold this against me for the rest of my life, even if she should.
“She’s in surgery right now. They said there are multiple breaks, but most of them look pretty clean. She’s going to need more pins in her leg and possibly a couple in her arm, but they’re not sure yet. She also suffered a few cracked ribs. They told us she’s lucky to be alive, and they’re doing their best.”
“Doing their best?” I echo, my brain trying to absorb and reject the myriad injuries Avery has sustained. Multiple breaks, cracked ribs, lucky to be alive pings around in my head, making my stomach roil.
“They’re worried about her leg. It’s the same one that was injured before. It was pinned. They’re hopeful.” Harley’s eyes are haunted, her chin trembling. She was only twelve when her parents died in that car accident. Young enough to still need her mom and old enough to understand what she didn’t have anymore, and never would.
“Hopeful.” I sit in one of the chairs and run my hands through my hair, gripping it at the crown. My vision goes blurry. “She has to be okay. She has to be whole.” I can’t even begin to consider what it would be like for Avery to lose a limb. She’s forever seeking adventure. She’s the first to say yes to the riskiest things, like mountain climbing, or biking down the side of an actual mountain. The things we do for fun are things people would do maybe once in their lifetime. She’s fierce and effervescent and full of life.
Except right now, she’s in surgery and we don’t know what the extent of the damage is going to be.
“What about head injuries?” My voice is rough like a freshly paved gravel road.
“Other than bruising and swelling from the airbag deploying, they don’t think there’s any damage there.”
“Thank God.” I can handle Avery and physical injuries, but I need to know that her beautiful, amazing mind isn’t going to be altered after this.
While we wait, I text our college friends that we were supposed to meet up with for the game and give them an abbreviated version of what happened and tell them I’ll update them when I know more. I call Jerome and Mark to tell them what happened. I feel numb as I repeat the same information twice. And twice I get the question: Wasn’t I supposed to be with her? Because the guys didn’t want to go out, they left before I went to the bar. I messaged a friend from work and met him there, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to go for one drink. Which turned into several drinks and some very bad decision-making.
Twice I’m met with silence after I explain what happened. The heavy kind that’s filled with unanswered questions. And I realize that if something really bad does happen to Avery, I might stand to lose a lot more than her friendship. I might lose everything that’s important to me. Her being at the top of that list.
7
I NEED A VACATION FROM MY LIFE
AVERY
I hurt in ways that don’t make sense. It feels like I ran a marathon and then got into a boxing ring. And lost. Every part of me aches, and at the same time I feel heavy, like I’m pinned underwater, but still able to breathe.
I open my eyes, the smells and sounds unfamiliar. I blink a few times, adjusting to the dimly lit room that is most definitely not mine. I try to move, but it makes white and black spots appear in my vision. I suck in a gasping breath as pain radiates through my entire body, making it impossible to do anything but fight to breathe through it.
Once the agony settles back into a nearly unbearable ache, I slowly, carefully take a look around the room. One crucial thing becomes clear as I process the visual information accompanied by the repetitive, rhythmic beeping: I’m in the hospital and I’m very badly hurt.
Panic sets in, the kind I haven’t experienced in a decade. The same kind of panic I felt when I came downstairs after a fitful night’s sleep and found Gran sitting in the middle of the formal living room on the couch that only adults used when there was a big event of some kind. Her hands were folded in her lap, white fabric peeking out, my grandpa’s initials embroidered in one corner.
Despite the fact that he’d been gone for years, she’d kept his handkerchiefs. As I got older I recognized that she only brought them out on special days: her birthday, his, their anniversary, the anniversary of his death.
That morning the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I’d wanted desperately to turn around and run. I didn’t know where, but I did know that I wanted to disappear. To go anywhere else. To escape something I couldn’t see, but could feel.
She’d patted the spot beside her, and her expression told me that this gesture, this allowing me to sit on the sofa reserved for adults wasn’t something I wanted. But I sat beside her anyway.
She’d put her arm around me and hugged me. An apology fell from her lips, she murmured it like a mantra until she finally pulled away.
And told me my parents had been in an accident.
That they were gone.
I remembered the way I’d carelessly hugged them before they’d headed out for the night. I remembered the smell of my mom’s perfume, the scent of my dad’s cologne. His rough cheek against mine when he’d told me to watch Harley and make sure she didn’t eat an entire bag of cookies before dinner. I remembered his wink and his smile.
And how I would never hear their voices, feel their arms around me again, get to tell them I loved them one last time.
My sisters were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had befallen us.
But I’d sat there with Gran that morning and watched her shine dim. And that had been the moment I’d realized that even though we’d all lost something that day, one of us had to make sure all of us could still shine, at least a little.
I blink several times and find myself back in reality, a personal hell of my own, and glance to the right. Declan is passed out awkwardly in a chair pulled up beside my bed. Based on the shadow of beard growth decorating his chin and cheeks, he’s been here for a while. His hair is all over the place, flattened in some spots and sticking up in others. The baseball cap in his lap accounts for that.
When Sparks Fly Page 5