Falling Under (27 page)

“That’s my choice, Ben!” Her voice is raised in a shout, and she pushes at him. The effort is too much, and she stumbles forward, hands on her knees, groaning, sucking in air.
 

“Fuck off, Ben. You’re upsetting her.” I step in front of him, blocking his access to her.

“Get out of my way,
Oz
. You don’t fucking deserve her, and you know it.” His voice is hard as iron, hard as steel, sharp as razors.

“Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I don’t.” I step closer. “I never have and I never will. But guess what? She chose
me,
pal. Not you. You had your chance. You blew it. And now you’re jealous. I get it. She’s incredible, and I’d be jealous, too. But don’t cause problems where there don’t need to be any.” I make sure he has nowhere to go but through me.

“Get out of my way, Oz.” He pushes toward her, tries to go around me, toward Kylie, who is holding a hand to her ribs, gasping for breath, eyes wet, fearful, and she’s trying to reach for us.

I stay between him and her. “No. Go home. She asked you to go home. So just fucking go. Leave us alone.” I step closer, so I’m nearly touching him.
 

“Get out of my face.”
 

“Oz…Ben…please…don’t—” Kylie gasps.

“I
said
…get
out
. Of. My. Face.” Ben bites each word, fists clenched, chest swelling, eyes going manic.

I shrug my arm out of the sling. Ignore the pain. “Walk away, Ben.” I swallow my pride and try it nicely. “Please. Just go.”

“Or what?” He smirks at me. “Gonna sucker-punch me again?”

I growl. “
You
started that, Ben. Just like you’re starting this.”

“And I’m finishing it.” He shoves me. “Fuck. Off. Get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

I stumble backward, and habit takes over. Instinct. Fight reflexes kick in. I rocket forward, swinging my good fist. I connect, hard. Ben’s head rocks back, and I hear Kylie screaming, pleading for us to stop. It’s too late, though. Ben is coming for me. I dodge out of the way, and his fist misses. I pivot, step away, and he follows, swinging again. His face is a rictus of rage, and his fist is huge, coming hard and fast, and it hits me square in the nose, knocks me backward. Pain explodes in my face, blood splatters, and he’s still coming, and Kylie is stumbling for me, crying, pleading. I see the terror in her eyes, and I step backward, hold up my hands.

“Ben, hold on—” I don’t want to fight him, don’t want this pain in her eyes.
 

But it’s too late. Too late. I see him coming, and I try to move, try to block, but I can’t. He’s too fast, and I’m off-balance. My foot hits the curb, and I stumble backward, out into the street. Headlights bathe me in yellow, a horn blares in my ear. I’m on one foot, on the ball of my foot, spinning, windmilling for balance, but I know this is happening. I see the grille, a Land Rover. I see the emblem, the green and silver, and then I feel my leg shatter, feel the hood sliding under my side and my back, and then my skull impacts the glass of the windshield, and I only have a split second to feel the all-consuming pain, and then darkness rises up within me like a flood. I hear screaming, voices. I’m almost under, fighting to stay above the black cold waters of silence, and I see Kylie, her face above me, tears streaming, her lips move.
 

Ben is behind her, and why is he crying? He’s not hurt, but he’s bawling, shaking his head, backing away. I blink, blink, but the darkness won’t clear from my eyes, and I focus again on Kylie.
 

I love you. I love you.
Am I saying it? I don’t even know. I’m trying. Are the words coming out? Does she know? Can she hear?
 

Darkness. Cold. Weightlessness. Is that a light coming for me? Is that what they mean when they talk about the light at the end of the tunnel? I don’t want it. Stay away from the light.

I cling to the image of Kylie’s face. Picture her pale skin lit silver by the moonlight, her eyes the blue of the Caribbean, her lips moving as she tells me she loves me, the impossible beauty of her face and the impossible beauty of the fact that she loves me.

I struggle to hold on to her, onto the warmth, onto reality, onto life.
 

“Don’t go…please, Oz…stay with me…stay with me…” Her voice is broken, so sweet, and I want to reassure her.

“…love…you…” I think that’s my voice, but is it really out loud? Is that tattered shred of sound my voice?
 

I can’t fight the blackness anymore. Cold implacable hands drag me under.

“No!” Kylie, pleading. “
NO
!”

I’m falling under.

Silence.

TWELVE: Fallout

Colt

Oh, fuck no. I watched it happen, and I watch his chest struggle up and down, and Kylie is screaming and Nell is pulling at her and I’m silent. I see Jason and Becca, our neighbors. The driver of the Land Rover, puking into the grass. Ben, sobbing like a baby,
I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean to, I’m sorry
tumbling from his mouth. Jason is holding him by the shoulders. Becca is on the phone with 911. They said not to move him, help is on the way.
 

I kneel beside Kylie, watching Oz as his breathing goes shallow and reedy, and I watch the blood seeping from beneath his skull.
 

Without warning, Kylie is lunging across the street, screaming viciously now, not in pain but in hate, in rage. I catch her just before she reaches Ben, catch her swinging arms, clenched trembling fists before they hit him.
 

“YOU KILLED HIM!” she’s shrieking, “You
fucking
killed him, you bastard! I hate you
IhateyouIhateyou
!”

Ben lurches to his feet, throwing his father off. “I didn’t mean to…” He stumbles toward her, eyes red, grief and guilt ravaging his features. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t
—
”

“I told you
months
ago I’d chosen him, but you couldn’t accept it!” She’s struggling in my arms, but I can’t let go, won’t let go. “I chose
him
! I love
him
! You were my best friend, Ben.” She’s abruptly limp. “You were my best friend. How could you do this to me? How could do it to me?” And now she’s limp.

I lift her in my arms. “He’s not dead, baby. He’s not dead. He’ll be okay. He’s just unconscious. Stay with me, sweetheart.” I’m murmuring in her ear. “Stay with me, baby. Look at Oz, okay? See his chest moving? He’s alive, okay? There’s the ambulance—they’ll fix him. They’ll fix him.”

She struggles out of my arms, to her feet, watching everything with sudden manic energy, pacing, as the EMS guys do their grisly work, blue-gloved hands turning red, their voices calm but urgent.
 

“Will he—will he live?” she asks, her voice cutting through the noise.
 

One of them looks at her. His eyes are reassuring, calm. “We got here in time, I think. He’s got a good chance.”

A good chance. It’s not much, but it’s something. Better than dead.

Kylie follows them as they lift him inside the ambulance, and no one dares stop her as she climbs in and sits to one side, trying to touch his hand while staying out of their way. The doors close and the sirens go on and the ambulance wails away. Nell has the truck running, and we’re following close behind.

The next several hours pass in a sludge-slow blur. He’s in surgery for nine hours, and Kylie eventually falls into a fitful sleep in the waiting room, stretched across two chairs with her head on Nell’s lap. We sit in silence, watching the news on mute, Brian Williams’ face moving without sound, images flashing, meaningless nonsense that doesn’t penetrate anyone’s awareness.

Kate Hyde is in the room as well, sitting across from us, eyes red-rimmed, a Kleenex clutched in her fist. She stares listlessly.

Sometime in the small hours of dawn, a green-gowned surgeon approaches, a face-mask tugged down past his chin, a green cap on his head, rubbing hand-sanitizer on his hands. He glances around the room, pale, pale blue eyes searching. He’s a middle-aged man, a little older than I am, I think, thick-shouldered and fit.
 

Kylie senses something, wakes up, sees the surgeon. Lurches to her feet. “Is he okay?”

“He’s a fighter,” the surgeon says. “He suffered an extreme trauma to his head, but he stayed with us.”

“Will he—will he be okay?” Kate asks. “When he wakes up?”

The surgeon bobbles his head from side to side. “There’s never any way to tell one hundred percent until he wakes up. I think he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery with no lasting side effects, but I can’t make any promises just yet. We’ve done everything we can do for now.” He sighs. “He’ll have a long road ahead of him when he wakes up. The head trauma was the biggest worry, but he has other equally significant injuries. He broke his femur in three places, and re-fractured his arm. Those will take time to heal, of course, but it’s the head injury that we have to keep the closest eye on right now.”

“When can we see him?” Kylie wants to know.

“He’s unconscious at the moment. It’s not a coma, though, just natural post-op sleep. You can probably see him in a few hours. Sometime later today, I’d say. Ya’ll have been here for a long time, so why don’t you head home and catch some sleep?”
 

Kylie shook her head. “No…no. I need to see him. Can’t I just—just
see
him?”

The surgeon shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I really feel it’s in his best interests to remain undisturbed for the time being.” His expression softens. “You won’t do him any good if you’re in a state of exhaustion. You need to rest. I can tell you from experience, the sleep you get in a waiting room in a hospital is no kind of rest at all. Go home. Sleep. Come back this evening, and you’ll be able to see him, hopefully speak to him.”
 

I wrap my arm around Kylie’s shoulders. “Come on, Ky. He’s right. We’re all exhausted. We know he’s okay now. He’ll be okay. Let’s get you home? Just for a few hours.”

Kylie nods, and then slips out of my hold, reaches for Kate. “He’s all right, Kate. He’ll be fine.” Kylie and Kate embrace, and I can see Kate visibly shuddering and trying to hold it together.

“He really loves you, you know. I wasn’t sure he’d ever find that.” Kate pulls away, holds Kylie by the shoulders. “I’m so glad he did. You’ve really brought him to life, Kylie, and I can’t ever thank you enough for that.”

“He’s amazing,” Kylie says.

“Yeah, he is. No thanks to me.” Kate squeezes her eyes shut and turns away.

“Hey, hey.” Kylie shakes Kate’s arm. “No. You’ve always been there for him. You gave him…so much. Everything. And he knows it. He’s told me as much.”

“He—he did?”

Kylie nods. “He loves you, Kate. For real. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Kate smiles. “Thanks, Kylie.” She shakes her head, wipes her eyes. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just so emotional. Go home, get some rest. We’ll all come back later and see him.” She gives Kylie one last hug, and then she’s gone.
 

As Kate shuffles down the hallway toward the elevators, Jason and Becca return from the cafeteria, Styrofoam cups of coffee in hand, Ben trailing behind them, looking subdued and miserable. Becca halts in the doorway, staring after Kate.
 

“Who—who was that?” Becca asks. It wasn’t quite a stutter, more of a stumble, but it spoke volumes about how unnerved Becca is. She turns to Kylie. “Who was that?”

“That?” Kylie is visibly confused. “That was Oz’s mom. Why?”

Becca doesn’t answer right away. “Nothing. She just…she looked familiar. Must have been my imagination.” She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. “I just thought for a second—oh, never mind. How is Oz?”

“Oz is out of surgery. He’s asleep now, but they said he should be fine.” Kylie hiccups, and her effort to sound strong crumbles. “He broke his leg and re-broke his arm. And his head—he…they say he
shouldn’t
have any—any lasting damage. But they won’t know till he wakes up.”

Becca gathers Kylie to her. “He’ll be okay, honey. You’ll see.”

Kylie nods, and pulls away. “Yeah, I know. He’s tough.”

We all head home, and Kylie is asleep on her feet by the time we get inside. I follow her upstairs, tuck her in to her bed the way I used to, when she was a little girl.

“Daddy?” Her voice is tiny, sleep-slow.

“Yeah, babe.”

 
“I’m so mad at Ben. I’m so mad it scares me.” She sniffles. “Don’t let him—if he comes here looking for me, don’t let him in. I can’t see him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

I sigh. “Oh, honey. It was an accident. A stupid accident that should never have happened. It wasn’t his fault, honey. He didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“He was picking a fight!” Kylie is furious, but too tired to really express it. “Oz had a broken arm, and he was trying to be rational about it. But Ben was just…just spoiling for a fight. I
told
him I was with Oz. I
told
him, Daddy. Months ago. But he couldn’t accept it.”

“He’s been your friend your whole life, Kylie. Try to see it from his point of view, just for a second. He’s been in love with you for a long, long time. Then, suddenly, you’re with someone else, and he’s frustrated.”

“He never told me. Never let on. How was I supposed to know?” She rolls to her back and lets her eyes close. “If he’d told me, before I met Oz…maybe there could’ve been something. But…he just got so crazy, so jealous. It’s so unlike him, too. He said such horrible things to Oz, Daddy. It wasn’t
my
Ben saying it. It was like…like he was somebody else. It was so scary.”

“I’m not excusing his behavior, Kylie. I’m not. I’m just saying…give him time.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m saying.” I pat her shoulder. “Sleep. We’ll go back there together later.”

She didn’t answer, because she was already asleep.

THIRTEEN: Revelations

Oz

Waking up fucking sucks. Especially that initial stage, where you’re just starting to become aware that you’re waking up, and you don’t want to. You want to sink back down. You want to stay under.