Survivor's Guilt

by Michelle Arnold

  “Okay, but don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t. Take your robe off, and lie on your back.” She had not made love to Abi with Abi on her back yet. If they had gotten together the night she had first tried to kiss Abi and she’d never gone on the trip, she thought in frustration, they would probably have tried every position known to woman by the time they’d been together two months. Oh well, there was no point in being upset about it. They just had to do what they could now.

  Abi obeyed, and Greta clambered onto the bed with some difficulty, removing the boot. She found that she could not kneel. Kneeling was not an option just yet. But she could slither on her stomach, which she did until she had all but faceplanted herself between Abi’s legs.

  “You doing okay there?” Abi asked with a mixture of concern and amusement.

  “Yes. I’m going for your G-spot.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Could you put a pillow under your pelvis?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Abi did, and Greta, not interested in wasting more time, promptly took her into her mouth. Soon her fingers joined in (from her left hand; the right was still too weak), easily finding that G-spot and working towards the desired response from Abi.

  Greta felt confident that Abi had never been given a better orgasm.

  ***

  When Greta had been in the hospital, the only thing that had seemed to matter was that Abi loved her. A broken body hardly seemed like a big deal when she had Abi at her side 24/7, telling her constantly how much she adored her. And, after all, the pain of broken bones and internal injuries was nothing compared to the pain of thinking Abi would never love her. Really, all things considered, she had been in less pain after the crash than she had been in the day before.

  She was still just as grateful for Abi’s love as she had been during those hazy days in the hospital. In fact, she was enjoying her even more now that she was regaining her mobility. Their sex life was greatly improving, and as Greta was able to do more for herself, they were beginning to feel more like equals and less like Abi was her caretaker.

  But her increasing abilities meant that Greta was now starting to look ahead, to think about what her life was going to be like when she returned to “normal,” and this was forcing her to accept a very unpleasant reality: the body she had known, the one she had inhabited for nearly four decades, the one men and women alike had lusted over, the body she was proud of and comfortable in, had been destroyed in the plane crash. It wasn’t coming back. She had a new body now, one that didn’t always do what she told it to do. This body was covered in scars and had bones held together with plates and pins and screws. This body hurt, all the time, and some of that discomfort was probably not going to go away. As she worked hard with her physical therapists, she began to realize that her therapy was as much about learning how to occupy this new body as it was about regaining her old abilities as much as was possible.

  She didn’t tell Abi how she was feeling. Abi seemed really proud of how far she had come, and it was obvious that she was still turned on by Greta’s body. Abi would often stay and watch Greta’s therapy, wanting to see her progress and hear the latest recommendations for how she should be managing at home. And Greta was progressing well. When she first started water therapy, she needed a chair lift to get her into the water, while her therapist got in with her and positioned her on noodles so she could float gently while working on her exercises. But as the weeks passed, she began to do exercises while standing in the water and holding onto a bar. Here in the water, she was able to move with a certain freedom she didn’t have on land, and it quickly became her favorite place to be (next to in bed with Abi). Out of the water, she was able to go from using a walker to using a quad cane, and she gained a lot of confidence on her feet as her balance improved. She still had difficulty with some basic tasks, like getting dressed, but she didn’t mind having Abi’s help with that, and at least she could use the bathroom on her own.

  But sometimes when she was alone, she still found tears welling up at the thought of all the things she would never do again. She would never dance across another stage. She would never stride confidently into a room in heels. She wasn’t sure she would ever stride confidently again, period; it was unlikely that her gait would ever return to the way it was before. She also wasn’t sure she would ever make it back to the advanced yoga class she had attended before the crash; for now, she had to join the senior class, because she was only as flexible as a 70-year-old with severe arthritis. She didn’t know when, if ever, she would be able to return to work. She wasn’t sure she could make a convincing ER nurse anymore. Her fine motor skills were currently such a wreck that she doubted she could even pretend to insert an IV needle or give an injection. Even buttoning her shirt took an inordinate amount of time and effort. The reality was that her brain had been damaged, and some of the damage might be permanent. What was she going to do if she couldn’t be Nurse Ava Lyons anymore?

  She knew it was normal to grieve what she had lost, but she also knew it was healthy to move on. She needed to focus on what she still had. She had Abi! She was finally living her dream of being with Abi! That meant everything to her. And she could find a fulfilling new career path if it came to that. She was really very fortunate, and she had a lot to be happy about. And indeed, she found herself savoring a lot of little things, things she hadn’t appreciated enough before. Just the feeling of fresh air on her face, the warm water from the therapy pool surrounding her body, or food in her mouth made her feel like the luckiest woman alive. Abi’s arms around her made her feel even more so.

  One afternoon, she woke from a post-therapy nap and realized she’d been dreaming about shoes. More specifically, she’d been dreaming about shoe shopping, with Abi. She had purchased pair after pair of heels, each taller than the last. At the end she had picked out a pair of stilettos and told Abi, “These remind me of the ones I was wearing the first time we went out together. You liked my stilettos.”

  “They made you look sexy,” Abi had agreed. “Buy these. I want to see you wear them.”

  Greta sat up in bed, trying to tell herself that Abi didn’t care that she couldn’t wear stilettos anymore. Pushing back the blankets, she picked up her boot from the side of the bed and strapped it on. It wasn’t very sexy, but at least she could stop wearing it in a few more weeks. It had been three weeks since she’d gotten it, and in three more weeks, if all went well, she could try walking without it.

  She grabbed her cane and slowly eased herself out of bed. This week, she had gone from using a quad cane to a single-point cane, which felt like a major accomplishment. Hopefully it meant she would be cane-free before much longer, though she was worried the day would come when she would hit a wall with her progress and that would be that.

  She hobbled to the doorway – she was always very stiff after waking up – and listened for Abi. She could hear the TV on down the hall, what sounded like Law & Order. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she heard Abi muttering. “Why would you confront him yourself? Are you that daft? Just call the police!”

  Her dream, she decided, was a sign that it was time to move forwards. She needed to get rid of all the shoes she couldn’t wear anymore. Perhaps physically letting go of her useless shoes would make it easier for her to emotionally let go of her old life. She limped into her shoe closet and began pulling shoes off the shelves, closing up the boxes and stacking them in the middle of the floor, where Abi could easily carry them down to the car and they could give them to charity.

  It was harder than she’d expected to say goodbye to her Giuseppe Zanottis, her Christian Louboutins, her Gucci pumps with the little crystals, the Roger Vivier satin pumps…oh, she remembered wearing those the night she took Abi out to dinner at Gramercy Tavern! Abi had loved it there: food that was expensive and easy to pronounce. And those Alexander McQueen shoes went so perfectly with the dress she’d bought with them…but she couldn’t wear them anymore, and the Salvatore Ferragamo boots wi
th heels were out of the question as well. And then there were the Dolce & Gabbana leopard-print stilettos with the little ceramic roses on the toes. She had never even worn those. She had been saving them for a special occasion; maybe a night out with Abi, or a special event at work.

  She sank to the floor, which was likely a mistake since she wasn’t sure she could get back up on her own, but she couldn’t help it. The tears were coming uncontrollably as the weight of all she had meant to do, and would now never do, crashed down on her. She leaned over her shoeboxes and just sobbed, letting herself have the release she so clearly needed.

  “Greta?”

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard Abi’s voice. She looked up, feeling silly, and wiped her tears away.

  “What’s going on?” Abi asked her. “Why do you have all these shoeboxes piled up?”

  “I can’t wear them anymore,” said Greta, her voice brittle, “so I might as well get rid of them.”

  Abi knelt and took Greta’s face in her hands. “You don’t have to get rid of them right now.”

  “It’s going to hurt no matter when I do it, and seeing them here just makes me sad. They need to go.”

  Abi nodded. “You could just let me do it when you’re not looking.”

  Greta laughed a little. “I guess I should have thought of that.”

  Abi picked up a leopard-print stiletto from the top of the stack. “I don’t remember seeing these before.”

  “I got them just before Christmas. I never got a chance to wear them,” Greta said, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to rear their ugly heads again.

  “I’m sorry, Greta,” said Abi sympathetically. “I know how much you love your shoes, and especially trying out new shoes.”

  Greta took the lid off another box, revealing a pair of white satin pumps with little crystal buckles on the toes. “When I bought these, I thought they would look nice with a wedding dress,” she admitted.

  Abi chuckled. “Even though you had no wedding plans at the time.”

  “No.” Greta looked down. “And I never would have imagined getting married with just one of them on.”

  Abi looked at her for a moment, her eyes misty. “Keep these ones,” she said decisively, putting the lid back on and returning them to the shelf. “You can get rid of all the others, but you have to keep your wedding shoes.”

  “But my wedding already happened,” said Greta with a little laugh.

  “Yeah, well. They’re still important keepsakes.”

  Greta smiled gratefully. “I know it’s silly to get so upset over shoes.”

  “Hey, no one on this planet loves their shoes more than you do!” said Abi. “And anyway, it’s not really just about the shoes, is it? You’ve had to readjust to a completely different lifestyle.”

  Greta nodded, grateful that Abi understood. “Sometimes I try to remember what it felt like not to be in any pain at all, to just feel normal, and I can’t. I can’t remember what that was like. It seems like it would have to be the most amazing feeling in the world, but I never thought that when I felt that way. I just thought it was normal. I wish I had appreciated it more.”

  “Oh, Greta.” Abi took her hand and squeezed it. “You won’t always feel the way you do right now. You’ll get better. The doctor said it could take a full year for your bones to be completely healed, and it’s only been a few months so far. I know it’s a long time, but you’ll get there, and then you’ll—”

  “Still have these plates and screws and pins, and I’ll end up with arthritis, and I’ll just never be quite the same as I was before.”

  Abi squeezed her hand again. “I wish I could fix it.”

  “It’s enough that you’re here,” Greta assured her. “And if I had to choose between being the way I used to be and being with you, I would pick you, every time. I love you so much, Abi. You make everything I’ve had to go through bearable.”

  “I’m just doing what I can for the woman I love.” Abi lifted Greta’s hand and kissed it.

  “You’ve been wonderful.” Greta looked at her wife for a moment, and then she made a decision. “But I think it would help if I talked to other people who are going through what I’m going through.”

  Abi looked startled. “What do you mean?”

  “The other survivors of the plane crash. Some of them must have sustained injuries similar to mine. I think it would make me feel better to talk to them, to see how they’re handling things. There must be a way to find them. I’m sure if I just Googled the flight number, I would find local articles about survivors of the crash—”

  “Greta…” Abi took a deep breath. “You won’t.”

  Greta was a little taken aback. “How do you know?”

  Abi closed her eyes for a moment. “Because there aren’t any others.”

  “Any others?”

  Abi bit her lip, pushing a stray braid out of her face. “There aren’t any other survivors, honey. You were the only one.”

  Greta stared. “I was the only one who lived? On the whole plane?”

  Abi nodded. “I’m so sorry, baby. I was afraid to tell you…I just…”

  “But that means…” Greta looked down at her hands. “Lauren.”

  “Yeah.”

  “There were kids. There was a baby. There were…there were so many people, nice people. They’re all gone? All of them?”

  Abi nodded again. “When they got to the plane…everyone was dead. They said on the news there were thought to be no survivors. But then they pulled one out, just one, and it was you.” Her voice broke.

  Greta met Abi’s eyes, trying to picture it. All those wonderful people on their way somewhere…and sweet Lauren, flying for the very first time. Greta had switched seats with her.

  “No-o!” Greta cried out, the word seeming to break in the air the same way her heart was breaking. “No.” She collapsed forwards onto Abi’s lap, and Abi gathered her into her arms, holding her tight. Greta closed her eyes, and sobs wracked her body as she hid her face in her hands.

  She wanted to never have to open her eyes again.

  18

  Setback

  Abi held Greta in her arms, feeling the warmth radiating from her body and listening to the air go in and out of her lungs. This was enough for Abi. Why wasn’t it enough for Greta?

  She hadn’t been the same since finding out her fellow Flight 528 passengers were dead. It was like the spark had just gone out of her. Abi kept catching her looking around on the internet, trying to find as much information as she could on the deceased passengers. Abi finally saw a picture of Lauren, the wholesome-faced teen who dreamed of singing on Broadway.

  She didn’t seem angry with Abi, or with anyone else, for keeping the truth from her for so long. Abi thought it would almost have been better if she had gotten angry. They could have a big fight; Greta could list all the reasons why she should have been clued in from the beginning; Abi could be stubborn and insist she’d done the right thing, then cave and apologize; then Greta could forgive her and they could move on with their lives. Instead, Greta seemed to quietly accept that anyone would want to keep a truth this horrible from someone they loved. She showed no anger; only deep despair.

  “You don’t need to feel bad about surviving, Greta,” Lola said one day over lunch. “You lived for a reason. I think God saved you for a special purpose.”

  Greta looked up, her face drawn. “What would that purpose be?”

  “Well to finally be with Abi, for one.”

  Greta reached for Abi’s hand, which Abi readily offered. “I’m glad I have the chance to be with Abi,” she said quietly. “But all those other people had loved ones who needed them to come home just as much as Abi needed me.” Her voice was raw with pain.

  “I bet there’s something important you’re meant to do,” said Lola. “You were chosen to survive out of all those people! That means you must have unfinished business.”

  Greta just looked at her. “I’m in pai
n all the time,” she pointed out. “My body doesn’t work like it used to. I’m learning how to live with this. I don’t have time to find some important mission to complete.”

  “Maybe not yet, but someday!”

  “Mum,” Abi said gently. “I know you want to help, but it’s an awful burden to place on someone who’s already going through so much. Just getting herself a glass of water is a big production right now, and you want her to become some savior of the world?”

  “I just don’t want her to feel bad about being here,” Lola said softly.

  “I don’t either, Mum. But it’s enough for me that she’s here. I don’t need her to do anything remarkable. I just need her to live.”

  ***

  “Your mother is wrong,” Greta said hours later, as she lay in Abi’s arms on the library couch. “I don’t even deserve to be alive.”

  “I don’t know anyone who deserves to be alive more than you.”

  Greta looked up at Abi. “I was crying over shoes, and nobody else even got away with their lives.”

  “Greta, you didn’t know. And you agreed that it wasn’t really about the shoes.”

  “It was partly about the shoes. Lauren’s dad lost his only child, and I was sad I couldn’t wear stilettos anymore.”

  “You’re allowed to have normal human emotions.”

  “It’s just not fair. Those other people deserved to live just as much as I did. I’m not special.”

  “You are to me,” Abi said, holding her tighter. “If I could have picked one person to survive on that plane, you know it would have been you. When I found out that just one survivor had been pulled from the wreckage, I prayed so hard that it would be you, and it was. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I found out.”

  “If I hadn’t switched seats with Lauren, she might have been the one survivor.”

  “And then she’d be trying to cope with survivor’s guilt at just fourteen.”

  “She had her whole life ahead of her.”

  “So what, you think you should have been mean and refused to let a kid who’d never flown before have the window seat?”