by Shay Lynam
“Tyler?”
My eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright. Everything was white so at first I couldn't tell where I was. Eventually, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I began to see the shapes, outlines of furniture, picture frames hanging on the walls, all whited out. I was laying on a couch in the middle of this room. Alone.
“What's going on?” I asked whoever had said my name. Just then Emily walked into the room, looking straight at me. She was wearing all white and when I looked down, I realized I was too. “Emily, what's going on?” I asked her.
“I'm not sure,” she replied, fear filling her eyes and her voice.
Remembering the feeling of the cold gun metal against my neck and then the bullet tearing through me, my hands came up to my throat. I almost gasped feeling the jagged hole, and when I took my fingers away, I found that they were stained with bright red blood, such a brilliant contrast against all this white. Then looking down at the couch behind me, I found it to be smeared red as well.
I walked over to a white fireplace complete with white logs and ran my hand over the valance. “What's going on?” I whispered to myself then whipped around. “Hello?” I called out.
“Tyler.”
“Is there anyone that can tell me where I am?”
“Tyler, there's no one else here,” Emily tried to assure me.
“Hello!” I shouted feeling blood gushing from my throat. “Hello!”
“Tyler, stop!”
I locked my eyes on Emily. Her eyes were huge and filled with fear, her mouth trembling. It took me a moment before I noticed the blood dripping down the side of her face.
“No, no, no, no...” I rushed over and put my hands on either side of her head, turning it so I could see where the blood was coming from. There was a ragged bullet hole above her left ear. “Crap.”
Emily let out a sob. “Tyler, I'm so sorry about everything.”
I pulled her against my chest, holding my hand over the bullet hole. “No, Em. I know,” I whispered.
She pulled away and looked me in the eyes. “I was hoping you would think I had just stopped talking to you,” she sniffed. “And that maybe you would go on with your life and not come looking for me. I feel like all I've done for you is cause you trouble. You had a perfectly good life before I barged into it."
I shook my head. "No. I spent my days looking out a window at the life outside. And then you opened my door and brought me into it."
“Could you ever forgive me?” she asked.
Carefully, I took Emily's face in my hands and pressed my lips against her forehead. “Yeah,” I said pulling away again. “I think I can do that.”
“Tyler, I don't think I'm coming back,” she whispered, shutting her eyes as more tears squeezed out. Blood was still running steadily down the side of her face and by now both my hands were slick and covered with it.
I could feel my own tears welling up and I clenched my teeth hard to keep them from spilling over. “I'll wait here with you,” I said finally, my voice a bit shaky.
I stood there, my arms wrapped around Emily, her with her head against my chest, blood smearing on my white shirt.
“I can hear your heart beating,” she said. “I think that's a good sign.”
“To you maybe,” I muttered holding her tighter.
Now I was painfully aware of my heart hammering in my chest. It seemed like with every beat, electricity was being forced through my veins, reaching into my fingers and toes like a million needles pricking me all at once. One jolt in particular caused me to keel back away from Emily.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes filling with worry.
I clutched at my heart. “My chest,” I gasped. “My heart.”
The next jolt forced me down to my knees and I let out a painful grunt through my teeth as I pushed my forehead into the white carpet. Emily was down beside me in an instant, her hands on me, trying to pull me back up. The pain was not like a knife, or like fire, or ice, or any of a thousand other metaphors. It was pain and it drowned out the world in a white flash of sensation.
“Clear!”
“Tyler?”
I opened my eyes and I found myself again blinded by bright, white light. This time it actually faded as apposed to my eyes having to adjust. This time the shapes on the walls had distinguishing colors. Distinguishing shapes. Everything seemed to be making a noise. I turned my head to the side to see not Emily but Paul's familiar face peering at me through a sheet of glass. His hands were pressed up against the window, his mouth was gaping open and his eyes were dark and filled with fear.
“Paul?” I whispered, my voice raspy, my throat on fire.
“Tyler? Can you hear me?” This wasn't Paul's voice, but another voice coming from my other side. I turned my head again to find a tall man with a mask over his mouth. “Tyler, if you can hear me, squeeze me finger.”
I felt pressure on my hand and I squeezed as hard as I could.
“Do you feel anything?” Another voice asked.
“Yeah,” the man replied. “Not much, but it's something.” The face appeared over me. “Tyler, you've been shot in the neck but you're going to be okay,” he said to me. “Can you squeeze my finger again so I know you understand?” I pushed all of my strength into my hand and felt my fingers gripping his again. “Good,” he sighed with relief. “You've undergone surgery and we were able to repair your throat. It will take time to heal though, so try not to speak.”
I tried to nod but a sharp pain shot up from my neck and into my head. Instead I squeezed his finger again to let him know I understood. When the doctor tried to pull his finger away, I held onto it. He looked me in the eye and I moved my lips carefully so he could read them. “Emily,” I mouthed.
“Emily?” he asked and I squeezed his finger to confirm. The doctor used his other hand to pull the mask down from his face. His mouth was set in a hard line but his eyes had softened and were filled with sadness as he shook his head. “I 'm sorry, Tyler,” he said. “She didn't make it.”
Pain leaped up my throat like flames licking at wallpaper and I closed my burning eyes. She said she wasn't coming back. She knew. At least I had had a chance to say goodbye to her. To let her know that I had forgiven her. To let her know that she had made such a difference in my life, there was no way I would ever be the same again.
“Tyler,” Paul said rushing into the room.
I turned my head to look at him and the pain in my heart lightened a bit. Hearing the voice of someone so familiar to me made me realize just how broken I really was and when he put his hand on my hand, the tears I'd been trying so hard to hold back finally released and there was no stopping them. Having my best friend next to me, crying with me, made me feel like I could survive this.
I didn't know what I wanted in life after that. All I knew was that I was hurting so much inside that it was eating me, and one day, there wouldn't be any of me left.
I was transferred to the hospital in New York just a couple days after my surgery. That way I wouldn't have far to go once I was released. Paul filled me in on the details of everything that had happened while I'd been out. Apparently as soon as I'd gotten off the phone with John, he had phoned the police in Portland and gave them the number I'd called him from. They had been able to trace the number back to an apartment building near O'Bryant Square.
It had only taken them about eight minutes to get there but by then, my dad and his lug were long gone. Paul said they walked in on a massacre. My blood and Emily's had been splattered across the wall behind us and soaked into the couch. They couldn't believe I was still alive, with my throat laid open like that. Apparently the bullet had gone all the way through just barely grazing my esophagus and just barely missing any major arteries. Emily hadn't been so lucky. The bullet had lodged in her brain, cutting out any chance of survival.
“I can't believe it,” I whispered after hearing this news. “I can't believe I did all that for nothing.”
“Tyler-”
Paul shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry, Ty,” he said. “They scoured the area. He's gone.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. Everything I went through. All the driving. All the searching. Everything. It had all been for absolutely nothing.
“Tyler?” I opened my eyes again to find a nurse had come into the room. “How are you doing?”
“Can I choose not to answer that?” I asked glumly.
I could tell the nurse knew my situation and was feeling sorry for me. “Well, you have some visitors.”
“I don't want to talk to the cops anymore. I don't want to answer anymore questions.”
“No more cops,” she said with a sad smile. Then she peeked her head back out the door. “Come on in.”
Trailing in behind her came Jordan and Simon. It was good seeing their faces, even if they were sullen and gloomy.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“How are you feeling?” Jordan asked me.
I shrugged. “Okay I guess,” I replied. “How about you two? What's happened since I've been gone?”
“Well,” Simon started stepping around his friend. “We woke up in an empty hotel room for starters.”
“I didn't want you guys getting into trouble. If you haven't noticed, I got shot,” I rasped, the words scraping my throat like sandpaper. “And Emily is dead.”
“We know,” Jordan said sitting in a chair next to Paul. He rested his head on his hands. “Kelly and Savannah are heartbroken.”
“No kidding.”
“The whole school is having a memorial service for her tomorrow.” Simon continued.
“Well what are you doing here?”
“If I remember right, there were two victims in that shooting.”
I looked at Simon and opened my mouth to speak then closed it again as I felt my eyes start to burn.
“It's okay,” he said holding his hand up. “We want to be here for you.”
Finally I just nodded then met Jordan's eyes. He moved his eyes back to the floor.
“Uhh,” Paul held his hand out to Simon. “I'm Paul, by the way.”
“Simon.”
Jordan held his hand up. “Jordan,” he cracked.
“I really appreciate you guys being here,” my friend continued. “And for helping Tyler out in Portland.”
“Sure,” Simon said. “I'm glad we could help him. Emily was our friend too.”
“This is getting a little too Gilmore Girls for my liking,” I finally croaked causing all three other guys to chuckle uncomfortably.
“For the record, I blame you for all this,” I said taking a drink of my beer.
Paul, Simon, Jordan and I sat in Mike's and for the first time, I wasn't scoping the place out for girls. Even though there were definitely at least three that could make this night so much better.
Paul sat back. “What the heck for?” he chuckled. “It was your idea!”
“Well, you should have talked me out of it.”
My friend shook his head with a smiled. “If I remember correctly, I did try to talk you out of it. You're just stubborn.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “I'm sorry. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain.”
“Hottie, two o clock,” Simon said to Jordan before taking a drink of his beer.
Jordan leaned in close to him. “I still have no idea what that means, dude,” he replied.
Simon dropped his head onto the table dramatically. “One of these days I will have spotted your soul mate and you'll miss her because you look to your four o clock and see some hag. And then my integrity will be shot. All thanks to you.” He looked back up at his friend. “You are ruining my life, Jordan. You are slowly destroying my hope in humanity.”
“Glad I can be of service to you.”
I couldn't help but smile as I watched these two. They had been in the city for a few days with me now that I had gotten out of the hospital. Apparently neither of them minded sleeping on our couch and floor, even with their beds just a flight away. I had overheard them one night talking about asking me if they could stay. I mean, I know if they ever asked me, the responsible thing for me to do would be telling them to go home, finish school and make something of themselves. But I knew I wouldn't be able to do that. Once Paul left, it would be kind of nice to have a couple more roommates. Especially if I was going to be living in that three bedroom penthouse on the east side of the city.
The way my father and grandparents had talked about mom, no wonder she'd turned out the way she had. If someone tells you that you're worthless and are never going to make anything of yourself, how else should you react? I guess I couldn't blame my mom for doing what she did. She wanted to prove them wrong. She wanted to prove the world wrong by becoming successful, which she definitely did. Maybe I was just like them though. Telling me mom she was a bad mother. Even if I didn't think she was being a good mother, maybe she thought she was...
“Tyler?”
I swiveled around in my chair to find a familiar wide-eyed face looking back at me. “Ruby,” I smiled. “What are you doing here?”
The girl shifted the strap of her backpack up higher on her shoulder and looked down at her hands shyly. “I recognized your face on TV the other night and I thought I'd come find you.”
“Whoa!” Jordan exclaimed from the seat next to me. He and Simon had swiveled around too and were now gawking at Ruby. “Is this the soul mate you were telling me about?” he asked his friend. I elbowed him hard in the side and the two turned back around to face the bar.
Then she held up a pack of cigarettes. “Want to go outside for a minute?” she asked me, flashing her too white teeth.
With a small nod and a smile, I followed her out the door and into the cold.
It took her three cigarettes to get through everything that had happened. She offered one to me but I waved it off. It was time for a change. Then the two of us sat in silence for a while.
“Did you really just leave so you could come find me?” I finally asked grinding the tip of my shoe into the gravel.
“Well,” she lit her fourth cigarette with a red lighter she took from her pocket. “I guess that was part of it. I just needed to leave.” A smoke ring escaped her lips and I watched as it drifted up into the air and disappeared into the black. “There wasn't anything remarkable enough for me there.”
Then she pulled the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows and I caught a glimpse of a thick black line that curled around her wrist. I took her hand and slowly turned it toward me, following the line up her arm until it disappeared under the edge of her jacket. “What's that?” I asked her.
“Oh!” Ruby jumped up excitedly and unzipped her hoodie. “I got this the day after you left.” She turned around and I stood up so I could get a better look, pulling one of the straps off her shoulder. The line trailed on up her arm and curved around her back. It was the tail to a big black dragon spread out over her shoulder blades. “Do you like it?” she asked me.
Carefully, I touched one of the scarlet red eyes. “It's remarkable,” I whispered.
“Flower for your loved one?” the man standing in front of Pike's Cemetery held out a wilting white rose to me. I gave him a half grin and took the rose, putting money into his palm. When he saw the value of bill, he held it up like I'd made a mistake.
“Keep it,” I said holding up the flower in thanks then made my way through the gates of the cemetery.
My mother's grave was the only one in her row that didn't have anything on it. Other ones had frozen dying flowers or old stuffed animals, soaking wet from the snow. I turned the rose in my fingers and stood there in front of her headstone, not really sure what to say. A sharp pain stabbed my finger and I dug into the stem, scooping out the thorn with my nail.
“I’m sorry you died,” I started. “I’m sorry I didn't care.” A bird started singing loudly, but then it cut off,
as though it realized it was interrupting something important. “And I’m sorry that the people you loved didn't love you back. I'm sorry I didn't love you back.”
No other words came to mind as I stood there still picking at the stem in my hand. Maybe I expected my mom to show up and say something to me like she had been. Or maybe she felt like she didn't need to anymore. Maybe she was content with what I'd said. And maybe I needed to be content too. I stepped forward, brushing the snow off the top of her headstone and laid the flower on it.
As I walked through the doors of the office, everyone's eyes fell on me. I'm sure some were surprised by my stitched up throat while others were just surprised to see me there. As I was making my way to Jameson, not James or Jim's office, I was blocked by a familiar blondish head. Well, more red I guess.
“Hey T-bag,” Andy said to me. “I'm beginning to think you lied to me about the blonde.”
“I don't know what you're talking about, dude.” I replied. “Though I see you went a shade darker.”
“Yeah, you like?”
“Can I start calling you Annie?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Tyler!”
I looked up to find a red faced Jameson, not James or Jim, standing in the doorway to his office. Everyone else in the office was silent.
“Oh hey, Jimbo.” I waved.
“Mind telling me where in tar-nation you've been for the past week?”
“Didn't you see how famous I've become? My face has been plastered on every television screen.”
“Pretty sure your mug was on for about two seconds last night and that was it,” Andy added.
I snapped my fingers at him. “Don't ruin my moment, Annie.”
“Andy.”
“Sorry.”
“I frankly don't care in the slightest,” Jameson, not James or Jim yelled. “I should fire you!”
I walked slowly up to him. “You don't want to fire me,” I said rubbing the stitches on my neck.
His eyes went down to my hand and for the first time I think he noticed my injury. For a second he showed surprise but quickly regained the anger. “Why is that?”