I saw my blood.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there. Long enough to feel cold. Long enough to feel dead. I sensed her moving up the road but I didn’t look up. Even as she leaned over me, something red and shiny and soft slipping over my skin, I didn’t move. Her lips were by my ear, breathing my name, other words I couldn’t quite understand. Her hands slipped into mine, twisting, gripping me tight, and it was that small weight that cracked me. That made it feel okay to spill into her lap. So I did. Burying my face. Letting her string herself through the pieces of me, binding them, making me feel whole. Just for a second, our threads entwined, I remembered how to breathe. I remembered. I remembered.
I finally looked up at her, tears spilling down her cheeks. Make-up smeared. Her green eyes pale.
“Roman.”
“I remember,” I said.
“What do you remember?”
“Everything.”
32
Bryn
His car was twisted around the trunk of the tree like the black exoskeleton of an insect, his blood trickling down the front seat. He’d found his mom the night before. That year she’d spent every day closed off in an upstairs guestroom, darkness gripping her from the inside, dragging her under, until she drowned in it and Roman came home late one night and found her in the bathtub.
I couldn’t remember how I got Roman back to the farmhouse. He was shaking, sick, and scared. I was scared too. So I held onto him and he held onto me and eventually the trees tore away and we were climbing up the front porch, sinking down onto the living room floor, the two of us curling into each other.
I watched the window as it started to snow and then I stripped the beds, dragging the blankets into the living room. We huddled there, our noses touching beneath my grandmother’s quilt as I tried not to cry.
I gripped the blankets where he couldn’t see. I held my breath. I tried to concentrate on his blurry silhouette and not his closeness. I tried not to feel him. Because I hadn’t told him what I’d found. Not yet.
“Is this what it feels like?” he said.
“What?”
“Waking up.”
I swallowed, tears burning my throat. I thought about all of the times I’d woken up and things had changed without me. My dad had been there, trying to make amends, and during an episode he’d disappeared again. The grief always felt brand new because it was. But when I woke up, no matter how much I hated him, at least I knew that he still existed somewhere in the world. That string hadn’t been cut completely.
But Roman’s mom. She’d severed that string with one of his dad’s razors. She’d abandoned him for good and it made me wonder if those strings aren’t meant to connect us to other people but to hold us together, and when one of them gets clipped, it’s not just the relationship that unravels but us.
I was lying there watching Roman unravel and it was all I could do. I couldn’t speak or think. I couldn’t change any of it. All I could do was watch him wake up. The worst kind of waking up. Because I could see it in the red sting of his eyes that he was more lost now than when he’d washed up on shore.
“Stop,” Roman mumbled into my neck.
“What?”
He blinked. “Stop looking for me.”
“Roman.”
“Bryn. Stop.”
“I won’t.”
He gripped my wrists. “You have to. You don’t…” His voice caught. “You don’t want me like that.”
He knew and I knew but I didn’t care.
“I want you,” I said.
“Am I still in the hospital? Am I some fucking vegetable?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fuck. I mean I must be. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? I’m in a fucking coma or something.” He tried to catch his breath. “What if I don’t wake up?” He sat up, shaking. “Bryn.”
I gripped his shoulders, tried to fold him in close.
“Bryn, what if I don’t wake up? What if I don’t wake up?”
Maybe because I didn’t have an answer or maybe because I did, I didn’t say a word. I didn’t speak or breathe. I kissed him. I pressed into him, every inch of me pouring into that kiss until he was still. Until we both were.
“I love you,” I said. “You will wake up. Because I love you. You have to. You will.”
“But—”
“You will.”
He folded into my lap again, shuddering. I held onto him, arms curled over his back, letting him feel the weight of me until it felt permanent, until he knew it was. Because I didn’t care if he was broken. He hadn’t cared that we were different, that I was sick, and I didn’t care either.
I watched the storm surge outside, snow whipping past the windows. The last time it snowed here was after my grandfather’s funeral. I was trapped in his home with his things for two weeks, though when I finally woke up all I remembered was curling up on the floor of my bedroom in his work shirt.
From where Roman and I lay I couldn’t even see the trees anymore, or the sand, or the sunflowers—everything was covered in snow, the white erasing everything in a false renewal. Because what if the truth was that nothing could ever be erased?
Roman looked up at me. “I’m scared.”
I reached for his face, holding him steady. “You’re going to wake up.”
“How?”
I heard Roman’s words in my memory, swelling there next to my lungs. I kissed him, resting there until he kissed me back. Until he sunk into it and I could feel every inch of him relent, trust, believe.
Then I looked right at him and said, “Because this is not a coincidence.”
33
Bryn
There was someone sitting on my bed. I could feel their weight on the mattress, blankets pulled tight under their legs. I blinked, their hands padding toward me, shadow bleeding across the blankets. I blinked again and I saw Dani.
“Bryn?” she whispered.
I sat up. Roman.
“How long?” I said.
“A week. Short one this time.”
Another week? Seven days used to feel like nothing, a few homework assignments; a trip to the dentist. Now it felt like an eternity and every second that I kept sitting there felt even longer. I crawled off the bed, stopped, holding the wall.
“Too fast?” Dani grabbed my arm. “Bryn, are you okay?”
I shook my head. I was not okay. Roman was not okay. Nothing was okay. “I have to get dressed.”
“What about a bath first? Maybe something to eat?” She followed me into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“I need to—”
“Bryn.” She stepped between me and the tub, voice broken by the warble of the faucet. “I know about Roman.”
“I have to find him.”
“And then what?”
I didn’t have an answer so I just shook her off and started tossing my clothes into the hamper under the sink. “Dani, I have to find him.”
“No, you need to slow down. You need to think. God, since when are you the irrational one?”
“Irrational? My boyfriend’s in a fucking coma and—”
“Wait. Boyfriend? Bryn…” Her voice trailed off and she just stood there, eyes wide and sad. Examining me like I was crazy. Because she was finally starting to think I was.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll say.”
“Dani, please, don’t say anything to my mom.”
“You can’t ask—”
“Please.” I was so close to her then. I knew she could see the tears coming. I bit my lip, looked away.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She shrugged. “I owe you, I guess. Just don’t do anything stupid, Bryn.”
“Have I ever?”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I slipped into the tub, pulling the curtain until she could just see my face.
“Do you remember what happen
ed?” she asked.
I remembered the gravel biting into my knees, seeing the picture of Roman’s car and then I was looking at the real thing, at him strewn across that dark road. “I…I was on the roof. I blacked out.”
“What were you doing up there with him?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Drew.”
“What? I didn’t go up there with him.”
“He’s the one who carried you downstairs,” she said. “When I saw him I thought you’d gotten into another fight. I thought something had happened.”
Something had happened. Only it wasn’t Drew. It was Roman.
“It wasn’t that,” I said.
“I saw the pictures on your phone,” she said. “Do you think…?”
“What?”
“Do you think that’s him?”
“It is. I’m positive. He remembers now.”
“He remembers what?”
“Everything. That’s why I have to find him.”
“And when you do?” She sighed and I could hear that her face was buried in her hands. “Bryn, what if he doesn’t wake up?”
I shook my head. “What if he does?”
She lowered her voice. “Okay, what if he does? And what if he’s not himself?”
I thought about my own fears for the past few months—that Roman wouldn’t like me in the real world, that me being sick would be too much to handle. Just like it was for my dad. Just like it was for Drew. But what if I was the one who couldn’t handle our relationship in the real world? What if he was too far gone? Not the Roman I knew but a stranger in a thin hospital gown who couldn’t even say his own name. Who’d never be able to say mine.
“Bryn?” When she said my name, the silence broke in two.
I heard myself sobbing and I tried to catch my breath. “I have to try.”
Dani exhaled, her own voice catching. “Then I’ll drive you.”
Dinner was quiet. Every time I tried to speak I felt that ache in my throat, every tight exhale wanting to shudder into a sob. I wanted to cry and I couldn’t. I wanted to leave, to go to him, and I couldn’t. Not yet. We’d leave after my mom went to bed, giving us ten hours of uninterrupted driving. We could make it to Presbyterian Hospital by morning.
And then…
“You’re not hungry?” my mom asked.
I stabbed holes in my baked potato, steam trailing out.
“That’s called discipline,” my grandmother cut in. “Girl’s on a diet, can’t you see?”
“She is not on a diet.” My mom looked at me. “You’re not on a diet are you?”
“No. I am not on a diet. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Maybe you should call it an early night. Get some rest.” My mom glanced at my grandmother. “Maybe we all should.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” my grandmother asked.
“It means, I thought we already talked about the volume on the TV and you said you’d turn it down.”
“Talk? What talk?”
“That’s it. I’m getting rid of the DVR.”
“Oh, so now you’re going to punish me like some kind of child?”
“Well, you’re acting like one.”
“Well, maybe you should have talked a little louder. I’m old. You know I can’t hear.”
“May I be excused?” I said.
No one heard me and no one answered and no one noticed when I left the room. I shut my bedroom door but they were still arguing. Maybe my mom was right about it having been a rough episode. She wasn’t usually so highly strung and she only got like that when she was stressed out—the origin of her stress usually being me.
It finally got quiet, the low clank of dishes in the sink the only sound. I heard the water shut off, the TV click on, and then the phone rang. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on my door, my mom peering inside.
“Still up?”
I minimized Roman’s picture in the newspaper, closed my laptop.
“That was Dr. Sabine.” My mom slid down next to me, knees curled into my side. “It was about Germany.”
“They want us to start making arrangements?” I asked.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“But soon?”
“It’s up to you. If you want to take a break after graduation…”
I could see it in her eyes that she wanted me to take a break. But not just because she thought I needed one, because she needed one.
“Do I have some time to think about it?” I asked.
I’d already made the commitment to go but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still afraid.
She reached for my hand. Her wrists were dark.
“Did I do that?”
She waved a hand, pulled them to her chest. “It was a rough one for both of us, I guess.”
“What do you mean? I…” I couldn’t finish the rest of that sentence.
“I tried to turn you. You got a little agitated, that’s all.”
“That’s all? No. Mom, I’m s—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
I thought about how upset I’d been; still was over what I’d found that night on the roof. It was still simmering there even when I was sleeping and I’d hurt her in a way that I could see.
What if Dani was right again? What if I’d been right from the beginning? Being with me would be hard no matter how fast Roman recovered, no matter how many pieces of him could be stitched back together. If he could be stitched at all. Fixed. And what if he was terminally broken? How could he love me then?
“How long, again?” I asked.
“The summer.”
“Three months?”
“Three months. They’d set us up with an apartment, money for groceries, things like that.”
“What about grandma?”
“She’d stay with your aunt, I’m sure.”
“And your job?”
“I’d have to see about taking a leave of absence. I’ve been with them long enough, hopefully they wouldn’t mind.”
“Hopefully…”
“Hey, your only concern should be getting better. If you want to do this, I’ll take care of everything else. Just say the word.”
Three months. What if he did wake up?
“Tell Dr. Sabine I want a little more time. Please.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to let Dr. Sabine know the plan by the end of the week.” My mom kissed the top of my head. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
She flicked the light off and closed the door. I tried not to think about her face the next morning. How would I explain Roman? How would I explain any of it?
When I heard her go to bed I texted Dani to come pick me up. Then I tore a sheet from the stationery my grandfather had given me for Christmas one year. I clicked the pen with my thumb, trying to think. I heard my phone buzz and saw headlights flash across my window. They went dim, the engine cutting off. I looked back down at the stationery and then I wrote—Left with Dani to help a friend. I promise I won’t be gone long.
I figured long was a fairly relative term. I’d be back by the end of the week at least. I’d have to so we could give Dr. Sabine an answer about Germany.
My phone buzzed again and I grabbed my jacket off the bed before climbing through the window. I ran out to the car and I saw Felix in the driver’s seat.
“So much for being discreet,” I said.
“You think I’m going to drive ten hours by myself?” Dani said. “Plus, he said he’d split the gas.”
“Why?”
Felix put the car in drive. “Because this is fucking weird. There’s no way I’m missing it.”
“Glad I can entertain you.”
He was quiet, cleared his throat. “Joking aside, I’m sorry he’s—”
“Thanks.”
I really didn’t want to think about how or what Roman was—brain dead, or paralyzed, or suffering from amnesia; a stranger who’d lose all recollection of me the momen
t he opened his eyes. That could happen, right? He could wake up and it could erase everything. It could erase me.
There were so many things out of my control—essential important things that I couldn’t even bear to think about. So I didn’t. I just curled up next to the window, watching the city recede in harsh red flashes until the silence felt like home.
I slept. I hadn’t meant to sleep but when I opened my eyes, Dani in the driver’s seat and Felix drooling on the center console, I was relieved.
“Good morning,” Dani said. “Well, not technically.”
I glanced out the window, the road still dark.
“Where are we?”
“Just passed Lubbock.”
“Where?”
“Exactly. Don’t worry you haven’t missed much. Well, except for Felix getting chased out of the women’s bathroom at the last rest stop. Biker chick too. I thought he was going to get his ass kicked.”
Felix sprang up. “Yeah, thanks for just sitting in the car and watching.”
“What did you want me to do? If you couldn’t take her I sure as hell couldn’t.”
“I don’t know. Create a distraction. Run her bike over with the car. Scream bloody murder while I snuck out of her line of sight. I’m sure you could have thought of something.”
“What does it matter now? Faking that asthma attack obviously worked.”
“I was faking.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Is this what you two have been doing while I’ve been asleep?”
“Mostly,” Dani said.
“And listening to the shitty music on Dani’s iPod,” Felix added.
“I’m the one driving,” she said, “therefore I get to control the radio. Those are official road trip rules.”
“This isn’t a road trip.” Felix pointed south. “The beach is that way. We’re headed to God knows where to wake some total stranger out of a coma.”
“Could you be any more insensitive?” Dani hissed.
“Insensitive? Who offered to split gas with you and help drive?”
“Like you’re not doing it just because you’re in love with me.”
The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4 Page 25