Keep Me in Your Heart: Letting Go of Lisa / Saving Jessica / Telling Christina Goodbye

by Lurlene McDaniel

Eighteen

  Cody’s family and doctors allowed him to return to school following spring break. As Trisha walked proudly at his side, kids greeted him in the halls like a long-lost voyager.

  “I feel like a freak,” he admitted when they were standing at his locker before the first bell sounded.

  “Why? Everyone’s knocked out that you’re back. This is what you said you wanted, isn’t it—to be back?”

  “Sure, I want to be here. It’s just that Mom’s arranged with my teachers for me to have special treatment.”

  “Such as?”

  “Stupid stuff. I get extra time to get to classes. If I want to leave before a class is over, I can get up, walk out, and go to the office and wait for the next class to start. In short, I don’t have to play by regular rules.”

  “And you think you’ve got a problem? A lot of us would love your problem.”

  “Don’t you get it? It tells people that I’m ‘different,’ that poor Cody can’t cut it and needs special handling. I don’t want special privileges.”

  Actually, Trisha thought special treatment was a good idea. Cody’s attention span was still brief, and he had trouble with self-control when he became frustrated. “Do you know what stuff you want from your locker?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He didn’t answer but stood staring at his locker door.

  “What’s wrong?” Trisha asked.

  “I can’t open it.”

  She followed his gaze to the lock and realized what he meant. “I know your combination,” she said quickly. “Want me to open it?”

  “Yes, open it.” He sounded upset.

  She shielded her hands from passersby and quickly spun the combination. When the locker was open, she said, “You can get a key lock and change it to a new combination.”

  “No,” he said. “Please write down the combination for me. I’ll use my time in study hall to memorize it. It’ll be something to do so that I don’t walk out,” he added sarcastically.

  Her heart went out to him. “It’ll get better, Cody.”

  “When?” he asked.

  She had no answer for him.

  When word swept through the school that Tucker had been acquitted of any wrongdoing in the accident, people stopped talking about their spring breaks and started talking about him. Trisha found it hard to hear the whole incident rehashed everywhere she turned. She didn’t hide her feelings either. When she walked into the bathroom and overheard two junior girls gossiping about it, she glared at them and said, “Don’t you two have anything better to talk about?”

  One said, “Gee, we didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Then shut up about it.”

  “It’s a free country,” one girl dared to say.

  “Then I might just take advantage of my freedom to stick your head down a toilet.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “No need to go postal about it. We were just talking.”

  The other girl took her friend’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Trisha let them pass, still angry but knowing she had overreacted. People were going to gossip. She hated it but couldn’t change it.

  “It’ll blow over,” Abby said later when Trisha told her what had happened.

  “But why do they have to talk about it at all? Some of them hardly knew Christina. It’s disrespectful.”

  “It was a big event, Trisha. Nobody expects to lose someone who’s only seventeen, someone you see every day in the halls and in your classrooms.”

  “She wasn’t ‘lost.’ She died.”

  “Trisha, I’ve got to say this to you. It sounds like your problem’s with Tucker. Like you’re mad because he didn’t get charged with the accident.”

  Hot tears stung Trisha’s eyes. “She was my best friend, Abby. Best friends don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “I know. I’ve told you, I know. Neither do brothers,” Abby said.

  Later that same week, when Trisha used a hall pass to go to the girls’ room, she saw Cody sitting on a bench in the commons. He was staring at a card that listed his courses and the room numbers of his classrooms. “What’s up?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “I got lost. I can’t find my way to government class.”

  Pity for him washed over her. “It happens. The school’s so darn big.”

  “I feel stupid.”

  “Please don’t.”

  He turned to her, his blue eyes filled with pain. “Can you show me the way? I’m already really late and everybody stares when I come in late.”

  “Want to sit it out?” she asked.

  “I can’t. I’m already so far behind.”

  She realized that in spite of his mother’s and the school’s best efforts, all the bases hadn’t been covered. “Follow me,” she said, silently vowing that he would never suffer this indignity again if she could help it.

  She formulated a plan to help him. Because his doctor had yet to clear him to drive, his mother dropped him off in the morning, and Trisha drove him home after school. To make sure he was covered during school hours, Trisha enlisted Frank and Abby to help shadow Cody until they were all sure he could manage on his own. She never told him because she didn’t want to embarrass him, and by the end of April, her efforts had paid off. Cody had completely relearned the layout of the school and could sit in class for the full fifty minutes. He still struggled through tests, and his memory returned in snippets and fragments, never fully formed, but Trisha considered it progress. Cody needed even small successes to feel whole again.

  “We are going to prom together, aren’t we?” Cody asked Trisha one afternoon as they stood in the commons, checking out a poster announcing the upcoming dance.

  “Do you want to go? It really doesn’t mean that much to me.”

  “It’s prom. We should go. I’ve talked to Frank, who said we can double with him and Abby.”

  “If we go with anybody, they’d be my choice,” Trisha said. They both left unsaid what they were thinking: if the accident hadn’t happened, they would have automatically gone with Christina and Tucker.

  “Did I used to like wearing rented tuxedos?” he asked.

  “You said a tux made you feel like a penguin without an ice floe.”

  “Wasn’t I the funny guy. How do you feel about me in a tux?”

  “I like you in one,” she admitted. “Makes you look rich and famous.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’m wearing one just for you.” Cody wrapped his arm around her waist. “Sometimes not being able to remember everything about the past isn’t such a bad thing, is it? It means I can be retrained. Like a puppy.”

  She giggled. “That’s funny.”

  “You think so? Hey, I made a joke, didn’t I?” His face broke into a grin. “So does this mean we’re in ‘puppy love’?”

  She laughed again, pleased to see him so happy with himself. For the first time in months, she saw signs of the old Cody shining through. “Either that or puppy poo,” she answered.

  “You’re talking dirty, girl. Tell me more.”

  They poked fun at each other and laughed all the way to the parking lot.

  On Saturday, Trisha and Abby rode the train into Chicago to search for the perfect prom dresses. They walked in the bright spring sunshine up Michigan Avenue past the Chicago Tribune building, crossed over the river, and headed toward Marshall Field’s.

  “You ever shop Filene’s?” Abby asked. “It has great prices, and I haven’t got that much to spend. Maybe we should start there.”

  Trisha started to say, “But Field’s is Christina’s favorite, so we always go there first,” but she stopped herself. Things were different now. Abby was turning into a good friend, and Christina was no longer around for Trisha to follow. Trisha said, “Sounds like a good place to begin.”

  “I mean, if you’d rather go to Field’s—”

  “No. Filene’s is fine. I don’t have much money to spend either.” As she said it, Trisha felt as if a weight were l
ifting off her heart.

  The girls crossed the avenue and headed away from the river.

  Just before prom night, Trisha’s and Cody’s parents offered to pay for a limo and driver to usher the two couples around for the night. “Some kids rent limos, but it’s not for us,” Trisha told her father. “But thanks anyway.”

  “Hey, you’ll look like VIPs,” he said. “Or movie stars. These things come with refrigerators and food and sodas—sort of a living room on wheels. Come on—live a little.”

  And leave the driving to someone else, was what he was really saying, she realized.

  “We’ll be okay, Daddy. Frank’s a good driver and we’re not going to any all-night parties after the dance. Cody’s mom won’t let him.” Cody had been mad about that part, but Trisha had insisted she didn’t want to stay out all night anyway.

  He father looked self-conscious. “All right, you caught me. Your mom and I want you to have fun, but we also want you to be safe.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “I know, I know. Frank is great. We don’t care. Besides, it’s not only about safety. It’s also something we want to do for you kids because we love you. Don’t be insulted. And don’t give us a hard time. Just take the limo.”

  Trisha sighed. “Just don’t pick one that’s over-the-top,” she said.

  On prom night, Cody’s mother brought him to Trisha’s house, where a long, white, and embarrassingly garish limousine waited in the driveway. Everything on the car was white, inside and out. It even had white faux-fur pillows in the seat corners and fuzzy white floor mats. When it first pulled up, Trisha wailed, “Daddy! What were you thinking?”

  “It was all that was available. Everyone rented before we did,” her father said with a shrug. “Besides, you can’t miss it in a crowd.”

  But Cody pronounced it cool, and Charlie crawled around the backseats, inspecting doors, knobs, compartments, refrigerator contents, the console television set, and video selections. Trisha’s parents stood on the porch, camera in hand, while the driver opened the door for Trisha and Cody. “You both look beautiful,” her mother called.

  Charlie made a gagging sound and flopped against the porch rail.

  The driver picked up Abby and Frank at Abby’s house and, after another round of picture taking, drove the thirty-minute stretch to the country club where the dance was being held. Cars jammed the parking lot, a line of limos queued in the circular driveway. Light spilled onto a column of stone steps where a throng of seniors dressed in dark tuxes and shimmery gowns filed into the elegant lobby, heading toward the grand ballroom.

  As the limo waited in line, Trisha eased down the window and surveyed the field of chauffeured black automobiles. “Cody, we have the only hundred-foot white one here. This is so embarrassing.”

  Abby got the giggles.

  “What’s your point?” Frank asked.

  “Am I the only one embarrassed by this?” Trisha asked, trying to sound huffy but losing the battle. It had become very funny to her too.

  “I’m not embarrassed,” Cody said, flipping a furry pillow in the air. “Are you embarrassed, Frank?”

  “No way. I think of it as preparation for future stardom.” He batted the pillow away.

  Abby kept giggling. “My mascara’s running.”

  “Well, go catch it,” Cody told her.

  They all heaved with laughter. Even when the driver pulled in front of the steps and opened the door for them, they couldn’t exit the car right away because they were laughing so hard. Finally Trisha scooted out, took Cody’s hand, and started up the steps. At the top she turned and came face to face with Tucker Hanson. He was dressed in a tuxedo and standing by himself, completely and utterly alone. Trisha had heard that he hadn’t asked anyone to prom. She saw now that it was true.

  As his gaze bore into hers, it was as if a bolt of lightning shot through her. Her laughter died in her throat, and cold, ghostly fingers gripped her heart. Tucker’s eyes held a recriminating message: How can you be having a good time? How can you forget her?

  Oblivious to the drama happening between Trisha and Tucker, Cody said, “Hey, Tuck.”

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “You want to hang with us tonight?” Frank asked.

  “No,” he said, catching Trisha’s eye. “I won’t be staying long.”

  Abby leaned forward and said into Trisha’s ear, “Don’t let this sour the evening for you. He’s got no right to make you feel bad. You’re allowed to have a good time.”

  Trisha nodded, but she wanted to ask, How can I, with my best friend lying in her grave?

  But it wasn’t until after the dance, when they had returned to the car, that the past really caught up with Trisha. She had just settled into the seat with Cody beside her and was looking out the window when another car slid past her line of sight. As she watched the faces in the other car pass by her, the fragmented pictures from the night of the accident fell perfectly into place. Trisha sat bolt upright. Suddenly, she knew what had happened the night of the accident.

  She knew. She clearly remembered every detail.

  Nineteen

  Trisha took her time deciding what to do about the memory that had returned to her on prom night. She turned the details over and over, making sure she remembered everything correctly. She told no one else, not even Cody, what she now knew to be true. And days later, once she had everything locked in her mind, she went looking for Tucker Hanson.

  She found him sitting with a group of his friends in the cafeteria. With her heart thudding, she walked over and announced, “We need to talk.”

  He looked up. “Well, sure, Trisha. Do you need another picture of me for the yearbook?”

  His friends laughed at his joke, but she ignored them. “It’s about Christina.”

  His cocky smile vanished. “What about Christina?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. I get off from work at the nursing home at five. Come there to meet me.”

  As she walked off, she heard one of Tucker’s friends ask, “What was that all about?” Let them wonder, she thought. Let Tucker explain his way out of this one.

  At the home, Trisha fed Mr. Tappin early, making sure he ate all his supper, all the while thinking about her upcoming confrontation. It had been a long time coming, but now that she knew the truth, she was going to make certain it got out in the open. She nursed cold, hard anger but vowed that once this was over, she would let Christina rest in peace.

  Trisha signed out at five and found Tucker waiting for her in the parking lot, his black truck parked next to her car. He got out of his truck as she approached. “You ready to tell me what this is about?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were wary.

  “I remembered something about the night of the accident.”

  “What?”

  “Not here,” she said.

  “Then where?”

  “You know where,” she said, slamming the door.

  He didn’t say a word but got into the truck and put it into gear. He waited while she went to her car and got in. They both knew where they were going.

  As she approached the site of the accident, Trisha felt her mouth go dry and her hands grow cold. Tucker parked on the shoulder of the road at the same place where his car had slid and careened into the field and overturned. She pulled in behind his truck. May sunlight spilled over the landscape like warm honey. Trees sprouted green leaves, spring wildflowers bloomed along the roadside, and in the field, heavy black dirt that had been freshly turned waited to be planted with rows of corn.

  Trisha slid out of her car and stood gazing out over the field, an aching sadness pressing against her heart. No visible damage remained from the accident; the earth looked whole and new again.

  Tucker came around to stand beside her, his arms folded across his chest. “Can we talk now?”

  Without looking at him, she said, “You passed on the right side. You couldn’t get around the other car on the left because it kept speeding up, trappi
ng you behind it. So you put your car into a lower gear and tried to shoot around them to the right, on the shoulder of the road. That’s why you hit the ice. That’s why you lost control.”

  “Is that what you remember?”

  “When the police talked to me, I told them that the roads were clear that night, freshly salted. So in order for you to have hit ice and lost control, you had to be on the shoulder, where it hadn’t been salted.” She rested her back on the truck’s fender, which was still warm from the spinning of the tires. “What I didn’t remember before, but do now, is glancing out my window and seeing the boys’ faces in the other car as we passed them. They looked shocked because they hadn’t expected you to do that—to pass on the right. I wouldn’t have remembered seeing their faces if you’d passed on the left, the way you’re supposed to. It would have been impossible, because if you’d pulled around them on the left, their car would have been on Cody’s side of the car, not mine.”

  She turned and faced him. “Did you really think you could get away with it? Were you counting on me having a permanent mental block about it?”

  “No,” he said. “I figured either you or Cody would remember eventually.”

  “Well, Cody isn’t any threat, is he? I mean, the accident—your accident,” she added hotly, “wiped his mind clean. That must have been a real plus for you.”

  “Stop it,” Tucker said. “I never wanted that to happen to Cody. I never wanted any of it to happen.”

  “How could you have gone through the inquest and not told the truth?”

  “I told the truth,” he said, catching her off guard. “The police knew the truth because I told them. So did the guys in the other car. I wasn’t speeding, but yes, I did pass illegally.”

  She didn’t know whether or not to believe him. “And the judge still ruled that you weren’t to blame?”

  “Because Christina grabbed my arm,” he said, his voice shaking. “She snatched my hand off the steering wheel and … and … I lost control of the car.”

  “You’re blaming Christina?” Trisha was incredulous.

  “No,” he said quickly. “I’m blaming myself. I’ve always blamed myself. But she did grab my arm. It’s no excuse, because I was trying to get around the other car on the right and I shouldn’t have done that. The accident was my fault. My fault,” he repeated. “I killed Christina.”