Survivor's Guilt

by Michelle Arnold

  Greta shook her head. “I experienced brain damage that has affected my balance and coordination, and while I may continue to see improvement, standing for long periods of time or even walking gracefully are likely things I will never be able to do again. And in addition to the brain injury, the metacarpals of my right hand are held together with pins. I have nerve damage affecting sensations in my hand. I don’t have the fine motor control I once had, and the lingering pain in my ankle, leg, and hip are another reason I won’t be able to do many of the things the scripts ask me to do.”

  The producer nodded. “What if we made accommodations? What if we limited your role on the series and had you sitting down more?”

  Greta shook her head. “I appreciate your trying to accommodate me, but I just don’t feel emotionally capable of being on a show that constantly deals with the subject of people experiencing severe physical trauma now that I’ve lived through it myself. I also can’t handle the storylines involving death the way I used to. And in addition to that, I’m still trying to adjust to my new physical limitations. I don’t want them scrutinized on national television. I just can’t sign a new contract.”

  Michael nodded. “How about this: we don’t put you under contract, but you come back at the beginning of next season and give your character a proper sendoff. We can work with the writers to come up with a storyline for her that isn’t too similar to what you went through. Perhaps she can experience a degenerative illness that makes it impossible for her to perform the duties of her job? It’ll just last a few episodes, give the fans some closure. We’ll keep you away from any scenes that involve patients with physical trauma.”

  Greta paused, and Abi looked at her with interest. “Yes,” she said finally. “I think I could handle that.”

  Abi broke into a proud smile, putting her hand on Greta’s back. “I would love to be able to work with you one last time.”

  Greta smiled back at her. “I suppose I would enjoy getting the chance to really say goodbye to everyone.”

  “Not that it’s goodbye for good,” Abi said. “You can always come to visit. I’ll get you in.”

  “And I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of future guest spots,” Michael agreed. “If you’re willing, that is.”

  Greta smiled. “I guess we’ll see how I feel in the future.”

  ***

  After their meeting with Michael, they went home to get dressed up for their date. Abi thought Greta looked fabulous with her new haircut, her new manicure, and her new dress and shoes, and she told her so. Never again was she going to silently think about how beautiful Greta was while assuming Greta didn’t want to hear it from her.

  “So, where are we going?” Greta asked excitedly as they got ready to leave.

  “Venice,” said Abi.

  “We are not!” Greta laughed.

  “Well, the closest we can get to Venice in New York. But we’re going on foot, so you’d better let me push you in the chair so you don’t end up all sore by the time we get there.” Greta was walking well with her cane now, but long distances were still extremely painful for her. “And I’m wearing flats tonight. You can see those new heels on my some other time.”

  Greta willingly got in her chair and let Abi push her down the street to Central Park, past Strawberry Fields (Greta’s favorite area of the park and one she’d taken Abi to for picnics before the crash), and all the way around to the other side of the lake, where their gondolier was waiting for them by the boathouse in his red-and-white striped shirt. Greta gasped. “You’re taking me on a gondola?”

  “Yep, sunset tour on the lake. We’ll have wine and cheese and chocolate, and we could have had our own personal violinist, but that seemed a little awkward to me.”

  Greta chuckled as they made their way towards the gondola Abi had reserved. “This is definitely not your kind of thing.”

  “Not really, but I did promise you we would do all kinds of romantic shit once you were better. Now you owe me box seats at Anfield.”

  Greta laughed. “I will go almost anywhere you want, as long as I can be with you.”

  “Likewise.” After locking the wheelchair to a bike rack, Abi took Greta’s hand and helped her into the gondola. The two of them settled down on comfy seats in the middle of the boat and dug into their basket of goodies as their gondolier pushed off from shore and began taking them around the lake.

  “I think I vaguely remember you making that comment, about us going to do romantic things when I was well,” Greta said, snuggling against Abi and letting the calmness of the water soothe her as she took in the lovely spring evening. “A lot of my time in the hospital is very hazy, though. I barely remember anything from Peoria. What I remember is falling asleep on the plane, knowing you would pick me up from the airport in New York and hoping I would be almost there by the time I woke up. Then I have all these jumbled memories of being in a strange hospital and not really understanding what was going on, except I knew you were there, and you kept saying you loved me, and I was so happy about that, I hardly cared about anything else.”

  Abi smiled sadly, slipping an arm around Greta’s waist and holding her close. “I remember every minute,” she said. “Every single minute that I spent sitting by your hospital bed, willing you to hang on, to stay alive, to open your eyes, to breathe on your own. They told me you would be disoriented when you came to, and I had to explain a lot of things over and over, so I decided if there was just one thing I needed to make you understand, it was that I loved you. I told you every chance I got, because I knew it was a mistake not to tell you before you left, and I couldn’t have you not knowing anymore.”

  “I’m so glad I know now.” Greta put her head on Abi’s shoulder. “I have very little memory of Dr. Khan and Sue, but I know they were important. That was why they came to the wedding.”

  “I think they were the ones who saved your life. You were barely alive when you got to the hospital, and for a while I was frustrated because I was just sitting in the waiting room with the staff telling me bugger all while they worked on you. I didn’t know if you were even still alive. When Sue first came to talk to me, I was angry because she was so calm when I was freaking out. But then her calmness ended up being kind of contagious, and then Dr. Khan calmed me down even more when she came out. It meant the world to know they were working so hard to save you. They were expecting a big influx of patients when the plane crashed, and when they only got one, I think it was devastating for them. So they were determined that you would live. You gave them hope, that it wasn’t a complete loss.”

  “I suppose I can see how it would,” Greta agreed. “But all the focus has been on me, and the truth is, you went through an extremely traumatic experience as well.”

  “I did, but I came out of it with a beautiful wife, so I’m not gonna complain,” said Abi, kissing Greta on the head.

  Greta looked up as they passed under the Bow Bridge. “I loved you for so long,” she said thoughtfully. “Even if it did take me a while to be honest with myself about it.”

  “I loved you for so long too. I wish I’d told you sooner.”

  “Then you could have known my body intimately when it was still in good condition.” Greta made a face. “But maybe it’s better you didn’t. Then my scars might bother you.”

  “They could never bother me. They mean you made it out alive.”

  Greta looked down at the scar on the side of her leg, tracing it with her finger. Due to the nerve damage, she had very limited sensation around her surgery scars, but it just reminded her to savor every sensation the rest of her body felt even more. “Yes. They do.”

  “So I will kiss those scars every time we make love and be grateful that your wounds healed. And I think you’re still the sexiest woman alive.”

  “Thank you,” Greta whispered. She tilted her head back, and Abi kissed her soft lips. Then she just held her close for the rest of the journey. They didn’t need words.

  Epilogue

  Ha
ppily Ever After

  January 2020

  The wind blew cold across a field in Illinois. Abi had been here once before, at night, while searching for Greta. The entire course of Greta's life had changed in this field, though she didn't remember it at all. Today she felt like she was seeing it for the first time.

  It was January 5, 2020; one year since flight 528 had crashed into this field, killing the entire flight crew and every passenger but one. The families of the dead were gathered here today, dedicating a memorial plaque with the names of all the victims.

  Greta clung to Abi's hand with her right hand. With her left hand, she held her cane. This was a fixture of her life now, at least when she left the house. She was steady enough now to make her way around the house without it, but it was a necessity in public. The risk of being knocked over in a crowd was too great otherwise. However, she’d gotten several canes customized in different colors, so at least she could always find one to match her outfit.

  Greta had learned to appreciate her new slowed-down life. She woke up in the morning feeling very stiff, so getting out of bed and moving around was a process. Once she’d done some stretches and loosened her joints up a bit, it wasn’t so bad, and she was getting used to this being the way things were. She had enjoyed learning some new hobbies, and she had really taken to writing lesbian romance, now that she had time for it. She had done one last story arc for her character on Mercy ER, and then she had left the show for good. Her agent still called her up now and then with a TV guest spot she could do that accommodated her new physical state, but acting was now a side gig, not her career. And she was okay with that. Now she was pursuing a career she had chosen all on her own, instead of one that had been picked out for her.

  Her brush with death had forced her to focus on what was most important in life. Mostly, that was her marriage with Abi, which was truly the greatest joy she had ever experienced, but she also wanted to strengthen her bond with her mother. For her part, Sylvia had learned to see Greta for who she was instead of for her star potential, and as a result, they were getting along better than they ever had. Meanwhile, she had set up a nice mother-in-law suite for Lola on the garden level of her house, which put her close to the kitchen, where she was now cooking up all sorts of traditional Nigerian dishes – and some English ones too. Greta had developed a taste for her fried fish, and Abi was happy that her mother was taken care of without having to live right on top of them.

  Greta’s first novel was set to be published in the spring, and she was nervously excited to see how it would perform. With her budding writing career, a stronger relationship with her mother, and the love of Abi, Greta was truly happy with her life – but she still carried a heavy grief.

  Today she was surrounded by people who shared that grief. The brother of a man killed in the crash called everyone to attention and gave a short speech before unveiling the monument. Greta leaned closer to Abi as the plaque was uncovered. From where she was standing, Greta could easily read the inscription at the top, which said: Dedicated to the seven airline workers and 193 passengers who lost their lives in this field on January 5, 2019, when Flight 528 went down. Under that, in smaller print, were the names of the dead, in alphabetical order. Although Greta had read the names before, she wasn’t sure she could bear to do so now, so close to where they had all taken their last breaths.

  But Abi urged her closer. “Look,” she said. “There’s something else at the bottom.”

  Greta looked. Underneath the names of the dead, the plaque read, Also dedicated to the lone survivor of the crash, Greta Lang, a beacon of hope to us all.

  Greta’s eyes brimmed with tears. “How can I be a beacon of hope?” she asked.

  The man who had been speaking turned to Greta. “When we were planning this memorial, we all agreed that your name should be mentioned. No one was more affected by this crash than you were, and no one has suffered more. But you brought us all hope, not just because of the concern you’ve shown for the families of the victims, but because your survival means that this crash, which has devastated so many families, wasn’t a total loss. It claimed the lives of almost everyone on board, but not quite everyone. It is a comfort to all of us to know that one person from that plane is still living her life, as you deserve to. They all deserved to.”

  “I wish they all could have,” Greta said quietly.

  “We all do,” agreed a woman, whose parents had been lost in the crash. “And we all appreciate how very much you’ve done to help us all memorialize our loved ones. We’ve all been touched by your generosity in one way or another, and we’ve talked about it, and the message I have to deliver to you is from all of us: please, from the bottom of our hearts, from this day forwards, live your life for yourself. We don’t want you to spend any more time on trying to atone for your own life. We want you to move forwards as you would have if you were one of many survivors, and we are certain that our loved ones would want that for you as well. We don’t need anything else from you.”

  Greta wanted to answer her, whether to argue or thank her she didn’t know, but she could do neither. Her throat had seemed to close up as tears ran down her face, and Abi pulled her into a tight hug.

  “I wanted to give you this,” said Dave, walking over to hand a small box to Greta.

  Greta took it with shaking fingers and opened it to reveal a necklace with a round, blue glass pendant on a silver chain. Inside the pendant were beautiful swirls, giving it something of a “Starry Night” look.

  “I had this made with Lauren’s ashes,” Dave explained. “Everyone in the family has something like it. You told me you’d seen the world. I want you to show the world to Lauren now, to have all the happiness she deserved. Because…” He paused and wiped a tear from his eye. “I believe she’s watching all of us right now, and I think a part of her is always going to be with you because you were the one with her when she died, and I know she would want you to live, without looking back, to have the carefree life she missed out on. So you travel and live and love and enjoy every minute of it, and let her enjoy it with you.”

  Greta nodded, feeling something come undone, ever so slightly, deep inside her heart. “I will,” she promised in a whisper.

  Greta took one last look at the desolate field, now free of the wreckage she had seen in pictures, and tried to imagine herself, hanging upside-down in her seat, comatose with a punctured lung, somehow forcing herself to keep drawing breath until help arrived. She felt a wave of sympathy for the Greta of one year ago, the woman who had just wanted to get home to her Abi and finally kiss her. She was glad that woman had made it through, had lived to become the Greta she was today.

  ***

  They flew home the same way they had flown down: in coach. Greta was done with the luxuries of first class. Abi preferred to sit in the safer seats, and Greta wasn’t going to argue.

  She could feel how tense Abi was on the plane, and at the airports. Coming down, they had travelled the same path Abi had on her desperate search for Greta, landing first in Detroit, then in Peoria. Greta touched her new pendant several times during the journey. The fact that she was still alive meant everything to Abi, and she thought she could let herself believe that it would mean something to Lauren as well. But what was most important now was that it meant something to her. She was hyperaware of every sensation: the floor under her feet; the cushion of the narrow seat against her back; Abi’s hand in hers; the sound of Abi’s rich voice as she rambled on about having the best surprise planned for their first wedding anniversary. Greta knew how lucky she was to experience any of this, and she would never take anything for granted again.

  As for their anniversary celebration, Greta had no idea what Abi had planned, but she knew it must be huge. Abi wouldn’t let her make any plans at all anywhere near the anniversary.

  She began to get a sense of just how big the party was going to be when her mother arrived in New York a few days in advance to help with the planning. Lola was also in on it
, but no one would tell Greta a single thing.

  “You’ve had enough unpleasant surprises in the past year,” Abi told her. “I just want you to have one big, exciting surprise for a change. You deserve it.”

  “But if I don’t know what you’re planning, how will I know what to wear?” Greta protested. “You at least need to give me an idea of whether it’s day or evening wear!”

  “No I don’t, because your mother and I have already planned what you’re going to wear,” Abi said. “That’s part of the surprise.”

  Greta was flummoxed. Why did they have to choose something for her?

  When their anniversary came, Abi had Greta change into a robe after lunch and then carefully made up her face, as if she were about to go down a red carpet. Then she left the house and didn’t come back. Sylvia was there, however, and soon Kim, Greta’s friend and former hairdresser, showed up to help her get ready.

  “I brought a blindfold,” Kim told Sylvia breathlessly.

  “Are you really sure that’s necessary, dear?” Sylvia asked her.

  “Abi wants her to be completely surprised. I don’t see how we can do that without a blindfold. Otherwise she’ll see what we’re doing to her.”

  “But how will you do her hair? And what if it ruins her eye makeup?”

  Kim thought that over. “We’ll leave the hair until we get to the venue, and then we’ll just have her close her eyes. You can touch up her eye makeup then.”

  Sylvia turned to Greta with a sigh. “Would you mind wearing a blindfold, darling?”