by Tracey Ward
“I hope not.”
I feel sick as I turn to look at her. I don’t see her as me. I see my sister. Her pretty eyes and soft hair that always fought against being braided. I see her innocence and trust and love. I see her quirks and her struggles. I see her growing up without me. I see her fighting to understand where I’ve gone and why. Ashley doesn’t like change. My parents were worried how she’d handle me moving away to college, but if I die . . . it’s going to be ugly for them, all of them, for a very long time.
“I’ll miss you,” I whisper to her.
She looks back at me, and even though she’s not Ashley, she understands what I’m saying. Who I’m saying it to. She nods solemnly. “I’ll miss her too.”
I take a shaky breath, swiping roughly at my eyes. “I think it’s time we do your plan.”
“Are you sure? We didn’t prove anything.”
“It doesn’t matter. I got you to doubt that he killed us and that’s the best I can hope for.”
“I wish it was more.”
I laugh tremulously. “Me too. I wish a lot of things. But wishing is just going to lead to crying and getting angry and . . .” I sigh, deep and heaving. “It’s not going to get us anywhere good. I say we go out on a high note.”
“Grandma’s cookies?” Ashley asks hopefully.
I smile, giving her a sharp, decisive nod. “Grandma’s cookies.”
We stand together. I turn to face her, trying not to cry. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
She offers me her hands.
I take them in mine, reveling in their soft warmth.
“You were hoping he’d save us, weren’t you?” she asks suddenly.
I bite my lips together, stifling a sob that rises in my throat. “I really was.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Why not?”
She smiles sadly. “I really was too.”
minute 7
chapter thirty-five
There’s a beauty in letting go. It’s agony. It’s torture. But it’s like breathing. Every exhale is a loss. Every minute ticking by is an opportunity missed. I could have been an astronaut. A poet. A bus driver. An artist. A conqueror of nations or the captain of a chess team.
I could have been anything, but in the end we’re all nothing. Dust and ash and memories lost in time. My name is ink on paper. My heartbeat an echo into the stars that will never bounce back home. I was in the world for a blink in the span of human history, but as far as the universe is concerned, I am next to nothing.
I am a mustard seed. A mountain unmovable.
I am the sum of the parts of my heart that loved with every ounce of strength awarded it, and that, that, makes me beautiful. Eternal.
I let the minutes rush by me at blinding speed. The entire span of my life flashing before me the way it was always supposed to. There’s no changing my fate. That’s not what this is. This is a goodbye. A farewell tour playing my greatest hits. I watch with a smile as my mom brings Ashley home for the first time. She’s so tiny in her arms, it’s almost scary. Her eyes are wide and unblinking. She freaks me out for the first year. I never told anyone that but I felt it, real as anything. I watch Dad ski down the mountain in the ugliest snow clothes I could imagine, but they were cool at the time. I feel like he’s a god as I watch him. He’s perfection and strength. Nothing could ever hurt me with Daddy around.
I watch Mom burn Thanksgiving dinner. Ashley throws up on my Christmas dress. Dad accidentally swears in church on Easter Sunday. I fall asleep with my head in his lap on the 4th of July.
I’m five. I’m six. I’m seven. I’m a young woman. I’m a snotty teenager. I’m a big sister. A good friend. A diligent daughter. I learn to play a song on the piano and forget it entirely a year later. I kiss a boy for the first time. I get my license. I back over Mom’s rose bush, making her cry. I feel guilty. I feel happy. I feel love and frustration and anger. I cry my eyes out when my grandma dies. I laugh my butt off when Makena tries on the Colts’ mascot head and gets it stuck. She was a horse for almost two hours and I never loved her more.
I’m a Sophomore. I date Mark. I break up with him. I can’t stand him. I’m a Junior. I go to Homecoming alone. It’s not as awful as I expect it to be. Makena is there. She’s always there. She’s the best friend a girl could ever ask for. She tells me about a new guy coming to school. He sounds too good to be true.
“What’s your name?”
“Grace Murray.”
“I’m sorry I almost killed you, Grace Murray.”
“I’m not, Kyle Rixton.”
He kisses me. My heart swells to the point of pain. I love him for the first time knowing it’s the last time, and it makes it bittersweet. It makes it hard to stomach. I know how the story ends, but even so, I watch it unfold with a joy that I can’t explain. It’s my favorite love story because it’s mine. It’s ours. And it can never be anything but what it already was.
It was beautiful.
We stand on the top of the mountain with the wind at our backs and the blanket around our shoulders. It’s our first date. I shudder against him. He hugs me closer.
“Are you too cold?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m perfect. This is perfect.”
“I was worried you’d done it before.”
“I have.”
“Crap,” he chuckles.
I smile into the frosty air around us. “No. This is the best it’s ever been.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know. But I did because I mean it. It’s better with you.” I grin fondly, feeling myself flush pink. “I think everything is going to be better with you.”
He kisses me. His lips are warm and his nose is cold. His tongue is gentle as it asks permission. I give it without hesitating. Was that how I did it the first time? I honestly can’t remember. I was probably scared then, but I’m not now. I’ve lived this moment over and over again inside my head and it never goes anything but smoothly. Nothing can change that. Not even me.
I’m sorry, Kyle cries. I’m so sorry.
He’s kissing me and calling to me. He’s here at the start and there at the end, all at the same time. It’s hard to process. It’s hard to stay in the moment with my memory of Kyle while my death plays out violently in the peripheral.
I’m home. I’m alone. Someone is upstairs but I don’t know who. Maybe it’s Ashley. Maybe it’s Mom. It doesn’t really matter. I’m on the couch watching TV. I’m cozy. I’m happy. There’s nothing special about this memory. Nothing monumental happens. It’s just a Saturday, lazy and slowly unwinding. I had a lot of these in my life. I loved every one of them.
It’s my eighteenth birthday. My parents are throwing me a huge party at the lodge. They got a good discount because Dad knows the owners. He rents the shop space from them. They’re nice. They comp the food costs. They give me a bottle of champagne that Mom won’t let me drink.
“You can have it when you’re twenty-one,” she tells me with a grin that says I’ll never see it.
She’ll drink it with Dad on some New Year’s Eve long before my twenty-first birthday. I want to be annoyed with her but I’m not. I’m too happy. I love her too much. I’m in the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s emerald green and just above my knees. I feel like an adult. Finally. Kyle is here. He spills a beer he stole from the bar on my dress. He says he’s sorry a hundred times. It’s what he always says. He’s always so afraid of disappointing me. I spill a little hot apple cider on the hem of his slacks to even the score. He smiles and thanks me. He’s in a dark blue suit that he bought to wear to award ceremonies. He’s seen a lot of them. He’ll see a lot more in the future. The NBA is calling. His future is looming.
My life is ending.
We go to Homecoming. He goes to State. They win again. I finish my last year of races with a solid record to be proud of. My grades are better tha
n they’ve ever been. I send out college applications. I get accepted to two. Kyle is accepted everywhere. Makena and Scott are staying here. I want to go but I want to stay. I want something new but I can’t stand the thought of change. I’ll miss everyone. Everything. I can’t have it both ways.
I can’t have what I really want.
Kyle proposes. I tell him no. I break my own heart and his.
I fall for what feels like forever.
I crash through the ice.
Cold water envelopes me. It fills my ears, my nose, my eyes, my throat, but this time I don’t scream. I go quietly.
I’m getting good at dying.
Grace!
My heart screams in my ears louder than Kyle. It’s angry. So am I. I’m dying and I’m only eighteen. I’m dying and I’ll never see my family again. I’ll never see the ocean. I’ll never swim in warm water, crystal blue. I’ll never go to college. I’ll never have kids. I’ll never be married. I’ll never be in love again.
I’ll never know what I could have been because I’ll never be anything more than what I am right here, right now in this minute.
My last minute.
“Gracey.”
awake
chapter thirty-six
“Gracey,” Dad calls softly. His hand is warm and heavy against my cheek. “Gracey, can you hear me? Come on, sweetheart. Come on. Come out of it. Come back to us.”
My mind is foggy. It’s cold and dark, waterlogged and sluggish. I can’t surface. I’m kicking and clawing, trying to pull myself out of the lake, but I swear I’m still there. I’m still under the ice, gasping and dying slowly.
But if that’s true, how is my dad here? How is he holding my hand? And what is that terrible smell?
I scrunch my nose unhappily. “Stinks,” I slur.
His hand pauses on my face. “Grace?”
I scowl. “What smells?”
Dad laughs. I don’t know what he’s laughing at. It’s not funny. The smell is really rancid. I hate it. Why won’t it go away?
“Pam,” he calls to my mom. “Pam, wake up!”
“What’s happening?” Mom mutters groggily.
“She’s awake.”
“Grace?!”
“She’s talking.”
“What’d she say?”
“Stinks,” I groan. I try to open my eyes. They flutter, letting in light. It’s blinding and blurry. “Too bright.”
“Turn the lights off,” Mom says hurriedly. Her hand grips mine hard as iron. “Hurry, Craig.”
“I’m doing it! I’m doing it!”
I hear a sharp click across the room.
“Baby,” Mom coos at me softly. “Can you try to open your eyes?”
I wince against that horrible smell that won’t leave my nose, but I do what she asks. I flutter my eyelids again to test the waters. The room is darker than before. Just as out of focus, but the lights overhead are gone. I can keep my eyes open without going blind.
Mom and Dad are fuzzy but familiar masses on either side of me. They each hold a hand in theirs, leaning over me eagerly.
“Hey,” I tell them weakly.
Mom laughs. It sounds shaky, like she’s crying. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Cold.” I try to swallow but the back of my throat is bone dry. I end up gagging instead.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Mom assures me gently. “Dad is getting you some water. Take small sips. You don’t want too much.”
I never want to see water again, to be honest. My vision is fuzzy but my memory is not. I’m not some disoriented victim with no idea how I got here. I know where I am. I’m in a hospital room because I almost died. No, forget that. I did die. The only thing I don’t understand is how I got here, alive again.
“Do you want another blanket?” Dad asks, his voice hushed.
I nod sluggishly.
He hurries to the other side of the room to pull a blanket off a chair in the corner. It’s weird, but I can see him better farther away. When he comes back, his face is clearer. He’s less colors and shapes and more human with eyes and teeth. He drapes the blanket over me delicately, like he’s worried I’ll crumble underneath it.
“What’s the smell?” I ask him.
He grins. “My latte. It’s awful. I’ll throw it away.”
“Flush it.”
“You got it,” he laughs.
“Grace,” Mom says, squeezing my hand. “I’m going to call the nurse. They wanted to know the second you woke up.”
“Where’s Ashley?”
“She’s at home. Makena and her mom are staying with her. She didn’t like the hospital.”
“Me either.”
“I’m going to call them after I get the nurse. Is that okay? Do you think you’ll be ready to see them? I’m sure they’ll want to rush down here once they know you’re awake.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I frown, suddenly feeling unsure. “Right?”
“Yes,” she answers eagerly. “You’re perfectly fine.”
Dad nods to my hands. “You got some nasty cuts on your palms from the ice.”
“Craig.”
Dad hesitates under Mom’s scolding. “What?”
“Let’s not talk about it. Not yet.”
“I drowned,” I tell her firmly. I try to look in her eyes but she’s still hard to focus on. “I know. It’s not a secret.”
“I don’t want you thinking about it.”
I try to chuckle but I end up coughing instead. Dad brings me more water. Mom goes to get the nurse.
“Where’s Kyle?” I ask Dad when we’re alone.
He sits down next to me in a creaky wood chair. “You don’t have to worry about that right now.”
“Where is he?”
Dad glances toward the door. He’s looking for Mom. When he’s sure we’re alone, he leans in close, whispering, “He’s at the police station. He went there right after he was discharged from the hospital. They had some questions for him about what happened.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Ten hours or so? Not long. Not a full day. Kyle came in with you. He sprained his ankle pretty bad but otherwise he’s fine. He was in and out.”
“And then straight to jail?” I ask anxiously.
Dad frowns. He glances at the door again. “Gracey, I don’t want you to get upset, okay? You don’t have to worry about Kyle. What you need to focus on is recovering. You took a bad fall. You were in that icy water for a little too long.”
“How long?”
“Kyle says it took him probably five minutes to get you out.”
I feel a deep sense of relief rush through my tired body. “He went in after me,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” Dad admits reticently. “He did. They’re saying he saved your life when he got you to dry ground and did CPR.”
“He didn’t push me in.”
“Grace—”
“Dad, please,” I beg. “You have to believe me. He didn’t push me.”
“Somebody did. Either that or you jumped, and I can’t believe you’d do that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Even Kyle is saying he was the only other person at the cabin.” Dad shakes his head sadly. “It doesn’t look good for him, honey.”
“Why would he push me just to jump in and save me?”
Dad’s face is unsure. He’s torn in a lot of different directions. He’s scared that I jumped. He’s worried Kyle pushed me. He never imagined either of us could do such things, but here we are. Someone did something ugly to land me in the hospital and Kyle at the police station, but who? And why?
I wish I had answers for him. For me and for Kyle.
The door behind him fills with bodies. He’s moved roughly out of the way to make room for men and women with serious faces and gentle hands. They poke and prod at me, asking if I can feel it. A light is flashed in my eyes. I track it as best I can but I can’t tell from the doctor’s reaction if I did well or not. She runs
through a litany of inspections without giving anything away before finally shooing three of the four nurses out.
When they’re gone, she turns her pretty almond eyes to mine. “How are you feeling, Grace?”
I pull the blanket up high on my chest. “Cold. Tired.”
“That’s to be expected. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” She cocks her head to the side inquisitively. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”
“I remember everything about what happened.”
“Do you remember the ambulance ride from the shore?”
I pause, searching my memory. Racking my brain. “No,” I admit weakly.
“That’s okay. That’s normal. What’s the last thing you do remember?”
“I remember . . . being pushed.” I’m careful to avoid my parents’ eyes. I can feel them watching me as they stand in the corner of the room. They’re holding each other like frightened children facing down a monster. “I remember falling and hitting the ice. I cut my hand, I think.”
My doctor nods to the thick wrap of gauze around my left hand. “Yes. You did. It was a very deep laceration but you’ll heal with only a minor scar.”
“Okay.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
I remember playing detective with my sister/myself. I remember reliving my death over and over again. I remember Kyle putting a ring on my finger. I remember saying no.
I glance at my left hand, the one inside the bandage. It’s wrapped from the base of my palm up to my first knuckle. I can’t tell if the ring is still there or not. Do my parents know Kyle proposed?
“No,” I lie quietly.
“That’s fine. Things will start to come back to you slowly. Don’t try to rush them. Your mind will give things back when it’s ready.”
“Can I—” I sigh heavily. “Um, can I just sleep? Is that okay? I don’t want to answer any more questions right now.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” She reaches down to touch my foot gently under the blanket. “You get some rest. Let your mind and body recover. We’ll check in on you later.”
“Thank you.”