Avoidance

by Kristen Granata

  At least a dozen emotions flashed across his face all at once. His lips parted as his mouth hung open, and his expression finally settled on utter shock.

  I tried to breathe, but it felt as if I had stepped out onto the moon without an oxygen tank. The words I had rehearsed were suddenly wiped from my memory. The noisy room sounded muffled. It was hard to hear anything over the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

  “Holy fuck!” Dave shouted from a few feet away. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

  I looked at Dave and offered a half-smile before returning my eyes to Chase, whose eyes had not left me.

  “What are you doing here?” Chase finally spoke.

  “I needed to talk to you. It’s important.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest as his eyebrows pushed together. “You could have picked up the phone. I only called you a billion times.”

  I became nervous, sensing his anger. All I could do was shrug my shoulders at him. No words could express the urgency of my visit. “I needed to see you.”

  “Well, you saw me. I have to go now.” With that, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd towards the stage.

  Dave stepped out from behind the bar and gave me a playful shove. “Did the hot mess express just let out?”

  I stifled a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  He leaned in close. “Don’t let his tough guy act fool you. He’s been a wreck without you.”

  “He has?”

  Dave winked. “Did you really think he wouldn’t be?”

  I threw my arms around him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. Thanks for leaving me, you bitch.”

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I… I really don’t know what to say.”

  “I get it. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He gestured to my suitcase. “Do you need help getting that upstairs?”

  I shook my head. “I can manage. Thanks.” I glanced up at the stage, but Chase’s back was turned as he fiddled with a microphone stand.

  “Go up and get settled,” Dave suggested. “We can catch up another time.”

  I nodded, and lugged my suitcase to the door. I was halfway up the stairs when Chase appeared. He jogged past me, and unlocked the apartment door at the top, holding it open for me.

  “Thanks,” I puffed as I dragged the luggage the rest of the way up, and into the apartment.

  “I should be in around two,” he replied before disappearing down the stairs, closing the door behind him.

  I paced in the living room for the first twenty minutes. Everything was in the same spot as it was before I left. It had only been a couple of months, so I don’t know what I expected to change. So much had happened with me that it felt like I had been gone much longer.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t unpack, for fear that Chase would not want me to stay. I couldn’t eat, due to the knots that twisted in my stomach. I eyed the pool table, but playing by myself wouldn’t exactly be entertaining. I decided to shower the stale smell of the airplane off of me, in the hopes that it would help me relax.

  Afterwards, I sat on the bed wrapped in a towel. I called Shelly, praying that she would answer and help kill some time.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she answered.

  “I don’t know. He seemed mad when he saw me, but he let me into his apartment to wait for him. The time is passing so slowly!”

  “Just get comfortable and watch a movie or something.”

  “What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”

  “He doesn’t hate you. You bruised his ego a little. He’ll get over it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  “Love you, Toad.”

  “Love you, Frog.”

  I changed into yoga pants and a tank top, and fussed with my hair in the mirror. I wanted to look good enough when he arrived, yet casual enough for two in the morning. I settled myself on the bed, and turned on the TV. My eyelids grew heavy as I flipped back and forth between two movies I had no interest in watching. I continuously glanced at the clock throughout the night. Midnight meant it was three o’clock back in New York. I fought the sleepiness for as long as I could, but eventually I passed out.

  A little while later, I opened my eyes feeling as if Chase was shaking me awake. I remembered falling asleep with the lights and TV on, but everything was now off. Only the light of the moon was shining through the window. I sat up in bed, disoriented. I still felt like I was moving. A rattling sound crept into my ears, as if a train was passing through the apartment, causing all of the dishes and glasses to shake in the kitchen. That is when I realized what was happening.

  I grabbed my phone off of the nightstand, and clicked on the flashlight app. The floor jerked and swayed underneath my bare feet as I tried to navigate out of the bedroom. I held onto the doorframe, watching the cabinets in the kitchen swing open, spilling their contents out onto the floor. Ceramic and glass crashed and exploded everywhere. I looked down at my bare feet, trying to remember where I had left my sneakers. I spotted them across the room, next to the front door. That was my way out.

  On a silent three-count, I let go of the doorframe and attempted to steady my legs, as if I was surfing through choppy waters. I stumbled only a few feet before I fell. I began crawling instead, shards of glass cracking under my hands and knees. My skin was being sliced, but I knew I had to keep moving. Solid and striped balls were knocked off of the pool table and rolled across the floor in all different directions; the pool sticks followed. A loud crash froze me in my tracks, and I looked behind me to see the flat screen television face down in the middle of the living room. I focused my attention forward, and fixed my watery eyes on the door ahead. Mere seconds felt like hours as I made it through the trembling apartment.

  At the door, I scrambled to get my shoes on. Glass had slashed through parts of my pants, and I could see red smears of blood on the wooden floor in the light from my phone. I grabbed onto the doorknob and pulled myself to my feet. Without stopping to think, I began my descent down the stairs. Thrashing from side to side in the narrow stairwell, I dodged pieces of the ceiling that were falling from above. When I reached the bottom, the rumbling and shaking stopped. I stood still, holding my breath and refusing to believe that it was really over.

  A loud sound split through the air. I quickly ducked down, covering my head with both arms. A large wooden beam dropped from the ceiling near the top of the staircase, crashing through several of the steps. I looked up when the dust had settled, worried that the rest of the ceiling would cave in next. Spinning around, I turned the doorknob and pushed against the door, but it did not budge. A sinking feeling washed over me as I tried to open the door again: I had dreamt of this moment – I was now trapped in the stairwell.

  I pressed my ear against the door, and listened for any sounds on the other side. Chase, Dave, and over a hundred people were inside the bar when the earthquake struck. At the moment, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. I tucked my phone into the strap of my tank top, and pounded on the door as hard as I could.

  “Help!” I shouted. “Can anybody hear me?” I slammed my fists against the door, and then listened again. Nothing.

  “Chase!” I screamed. I smashed my shoulder into the door, pushing against it with all of my body weight. Something must be blocking it from the other side. I stepped back and tried kicking it until my legs tired out. I looked up at the fallen beam at the top of the stairs, and back at the unopened door in front of me. I couldn’t go backward, and I couldn’t go forward. I was stuck. Sweat began beading on my forehead, trickling down my face and neck. I could feel the panic setting in.

  I covered my face with my hands and began to cry. Chase was on the other side of this door, and if he was not banging it down to come get me – something was very wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore all of the horrific things that flashed through my mind; I had to stick with the facts, for n
ow. Breathing deeply, I positioned myself as if I was standing in front of T.J. I could hear his voice telling me to punch harder, and to throw my back into it. “You are a warrior,” he would say. “Get back up and keep fighting!”

  I began throwing punches against the wooden door, one harder than the next. The sound of my fists making contact with the door sounded so loud in the silence. Once my knuckles were sore and bleeding, I used my foot instead. I kicked the same spot in the door over and over. Finally, I saw it crack. My kicks became faster, and I didn’t stop until the door had split open from the middle. I rammed my shoulder into it, and crashed through to the other side. Several bar stools, and a beam from the ceiling were piled in pieces in front of the door that had blocked me in. I climbed over them and scanned the room with my phone, shining the light above my head to reach as far as I could.

  People were lying on the floor, with wood and glass scattered everywhere around them. Part of the ceiling had collapsed in the far corner, and many of the windows had shattered. To my left, I could see people huddled behind the bar. Some of them began to stand, shaking the glass and dust out of their hair.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. My voice echoed in the still room.

  “I think so,” one man answered.

  “Dave, are you back there?” I called. He had to be. I waited, praying to hear his voice in return. My throat felt dry as I tried to swallow. No response.

  Several women that had taken cover under one of the pinball machines stood up, brushing themselves off. I shined my phone in their direction, crunching on broken glass as I stepped over the stools that had been knocked over.

  “Are you girls okay? Is anybody hurt?”

  “We’re okay, but one of our friends was in the bathroom,” a blonde sniffled. Her knee was bleeding, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “Use the flashlights on your phones. Stay together, and be careful where you step.”

  They nodded in unison and began shuffling past me.

  My heart was racing as I continued to look for Chase. The stage was covered in debris, and the lights above it had fallen. Chunks of the ceiling covered the surrounding area. I saw a brass cymbal and a guitar sticking out from underneath one of the wooden beams that had crashed on top of the stage. My hands trembled, as it looked like the worst of the damage was in this area.

  “Chase?” I called. “Chase, where are you?” I choked back a sob when I did not hear a response from him. Reminding myself to breathe, I did my best to remain calm. Panicking would get me nowhere. Chase was here, somewhere. I had to keep searching.

  I picked up hunks of sheetrock, moving them aside to uncover anything or anyone that might be underneath. A white sneaker caught my eye, and I quickly pushed the wood and broken bass drum off of the body that the sneaker was connected to. It was the drummer of Chase’s band. I struggled to recall his name – was it Chad? I crouched down and gently shook his arm, shaking it harder when he did not wake up. Philip should be here, and I wondered if Brooke was, too. I covered my mouth with my hand as I started to cry again.

  Several people walked by me on their way to the door. I watched them exit the bar, stepping over the people that were unconscious, or worse, lying on the floor. I couldn’t blame them for wanting to get out. The air inside the bar was musty and thick, making it hard to breathe.

  I cleared everything off of the drummer’s body and left him there until I could get help. I was afraid to move him and cause more harm.

  “Chase!” I yelled. “Chase!” I continued picking up fragments of the building and band equipment. I tried to move a large part of the ceiling from my path, but it was heavy. I was going to leave it, until I spotted a large hand sticking out from under it. A familiar leather cuff was attached to its wrist. Frantically, I bent down to find Chase lying on the ground sporting a decent-sized gash on his forehead. A thick stream of blood had seeped into his hairline, staining his golden hair red. I breathed a small sigh of relief – finding him was only half the battle.

  I touched his face with my shaking hand. “Chase,” I croaked. “Chase, please wake up.” I thought to check for a pulse, but hesitated as two very different scenarios played out in my mind. I pressed two of my fingers against his neck, and held my breath. He had a pulse!

  I shoved my phone back into my shirt and tried to lift the wood that was crushing his torso. Pulling with all of my might, the piece barely budged. “Come on,” I grunted. Then, I was reminded of tire flipping, and T.J.’s voice sounded in my head again: “Press up with your legs.” Squatting down, I positioned myself appropriately and pressed upward through the heels of my feet. My whole body shook as the wood lifted until I was able to free Chase’s body. Once it was up, I tossed it over and kneeled down next to his lifeless body.

  I was not sure if giving CPR was the right thing to do in this situation, but it was the only other thing I could think of. Mimicking what I had only seen in movies, I pumped my hands against his chest, and held his nose while I puffed air into his mouth. I did it again, and again, pressing harder each time out of desperation. I had lost track of how many times I repeated the routine. More survivors watched me in silence as they passed by. I averted my eyes from their somber expressions and concentrated on Chase’s face instead.

  “Come on, Chase,” I sobbed. “Just wake up already.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I attempted to breathe the life back into him. As I pressed against his chest, his eyelids fluttered. Unsure if I should stop, I continued pumping my arms. Then, his eyes opened.

  “Merritt?” he whispered.

  “I’m here. You’re alive.”

  “Everything hurts.”

  “Can you move your arms and your legs?”

  His legs slowly moved, and his hands found their way into mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, my face soaked from the tears. “I’m okay as long as you’re okay.” I buried my face in his chest. “I couldn’t find you.”

  Chase shifted, attempting to sit up. I pointed the light from my phone onto the floor so he could see. He took the phone and faced the light towards me. My knuckles were swollen and purple, with blood streaks running down my fingers. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

  “We’ll talk about it later. We need to get you to a hospital. Let’s get you up.” I wrapped my arm around his back. “Lean on me.”

  He growled from the pain as he got to his feet.

  I steadied him, holding onto his midsection. “Can you stand?”

  He propped himself up against the nearby wall. “I’m good.”

  I looked over at the bar. “I’m going to find Dave. He has to be back there somewhere.”

  “I’ll come help you.”

  “No. You stay here. You’re hurt. I’ll be right back.”

  “Please be careful. Nothing in here is stable right now.”

  I walked as quickly as I could; pain shot through my ankle, undoubtedly from kicking through the door earlier. I swung myself under the bar, shining my light in front of me. There was broken glass and liquid everywhere from fallen liquor bottles. I spotted Dave’s black rimmed glasses next to my foot, and then saw him lying underneath the shelves that had detached from the wall.

  “Dave!” I cried. “Chase, I found him!”

  “Is he conscious?” Chase called back to me.

  “No.” I crouched down, and checked for his pulse. It was so faint, I barely felt it. “His pulse is weak! I have to get him out of here.” I placed his glasses back on his face, though the lenses were badly cracked. Then, I hooked my arms under his armpits, and began dragging him backwards. I could hear sirens outside. I needed to get Chase and Dave out there as quickly as possible.

  “Let me help.” Chase tried to bend over, but winced and clutched his ribs.

  “I’ve got Dave. Just focus on walking out that door.” Breathing hard, I kept a steady pace pulling Dave’s body to the exit. “You are heavier than you look, buddy.”

  “He’s going to be okay. Don’t worry, baby.”
<
br />   My heart skipped a beat at Chase’s word choice.

  Outside, the lights atop the emergency vehicles were blinding in the darkness. A paramedic saw me dragging Dave into the street, and ran over to help.

  “His name is Dave. He has a pulse,” I offered as the man called for a stretcher. “I found him underneath some shelves. He needs medical attention, too,” I said touching Chase’s arm. “He was unconscious when I found him, and I think his ribs are broken.”

  “That’s a pretty nasty gash on your forehead,” he said. “Let’s get you into the ambulance.” He pointed to the truck.

  I looked up at Chase. “I’m going back in. Your bandmates are still in there.”

  “The rescue teams are here, miss. They’ll get them.” The paramedic pointed to the trucks of men and women that were preparing to go inside. “The hospital is quickly filling up. You’ve already saved two lives tonight. You should get checked out, too,” he said, pointing to my hands.

  I looked back at the bar one more time, reluctant to leave those people behind. I still had not found Philip, or Brooke, if she was in there. Chase tugged on my elbow, and I followed them into the back of the ambulance.

  The ride to the nearest hospital was quick, but the wait in the Emergency Room was not. We waited almost an hour and a half before Chase could be seen. I was worried about internal bleeding in his head, or that a lung had been punctured by his rib. The minutes ticked by slowly.

  I checked my phone for the time, but it was dead. “I must have used all the battery up with the flashlight. You should call your mom. I need to call Shelly. I don’t want them to see the news and freak out.”

  “Good idea.” Chase slipped his phone out of his pocket. The screen was cracked in several spots, but it still worked.

  I rested my head on Chase’s shoulder, listening to Beverly’s voice on the other side of his phone.

  “What do you mean there was an earthquake? This damn thing never works,” she muttered. I pictured her smacking the remote on her palm.