For Always (18 page)

“Judgment day.”

“I guess. I know it’s stupid but I was twelve when I thought of it and you asked to hear it.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.”

A long time passed before Jordan spoke again. He stood, pulled his desk chair out and sat there, looking absently around the room.

“Do you believe in life after death?” He asked. “I mean really believe in your heart?”

“Absolutely.” I answered almost flippantly.

“You never question?”

I thought for a moment. “Of course I’ve questioned. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Then how are you so sure?”

“I guess I just found it’s easier to believe there is life after death, whether it be Heaven or reincarnation. That the spirit or soul somehow goes on.”

“That’s the cornerstone of your faith?” He challenged. “It’s easier to believe, therefore it must exist?”

“No.” I paused a moment searching for the right words, “Did you ever question something deep in your heart, something you really wanted, or needed answered?”

“Yeah.”

“So have I. And when I do, it’s like someone will be talking about that very subject and it’s directed at me, a teacher or someone on television. Somehow the very issue I am having a hard time with is everywhere. Like there is a higher power listening to what’s in my heart. And he’s sending me signs to follow. Signs that I’m not alone. That’s often how I’ve found comfort when I most needed it.”

Jordan sat silently looking pensive, “I wish I could be sure.”

“You’re alive aren’t you? I mean you survived.”

He nodded. “I thought I was going to die. I don’t remember much else. Loud screeching, crushing metal. I was knocked unconscious.”

I took his hand in mine and gave it a supportive squeeze. He embraced the gesture and held my hand in a tight anxious grip.

“I saw myself in the car. I was floating above my body, getting further from it. I saw the car with the truck on top of it, the truck driver, even. Then I saw Madison,” he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths after saying her name. “She was all bloody from the broken glass and I knew I was dying.”

“You weren’t dying, it was a dream. Your subconscious knew what happened and it created a scene in your mind.”

“No!” he said firmly. He dropped my hand and stood, raking his hair with his fingers, “At first I thought that too. But the truck driver came to see me the next day and I recognized him. He looked exactly as I remembered.”

“You must’ve caught a glimpse of him as it happened,” I suggested.

He shook his head. “I didn’t see the truck at all.” His whole body seemed to wilt as he spoke. “I was looking at Madison when we were hit.” His eyes glassed over, “If I kept my eyes on the damn road I could’ve avoided it, or at least lessened the impact.”

“You don’t know that for certain.” I searched for words to console him but came up empty. “Besides, even if it happened just the way you say, that doesn’t change anything.” I moved off the bed and approached him, cupping his cheek in my hand. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

He removed my hand from his face and looked at me earnestly, “I am alive, but Madison’s dead. Why? Everything happens for a reason, right? What’s the reason?” He paused. “Tell me why I’m here,” he pleaded with his eyes and voice full of emotion. “Because I don’t know.”

I understood guilt. I understood more than anyone could and he knew it. He drove, and through his own admission, he took his eyes off the road. The problem - I didn’t know how to convince him he didn’t need to be punished for it - when he already convinced himself he did.

“She’s dead, Steph, and I’m not. My God, I killed her.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I took a deep breath trying to recover, “I see why you feel responsible. But to say you should be dead is ridiculous.”

He looked agitated, “You’re supposed to understand. Nobody understands!”

I tried to bring a sense of calm back to the situation. “Maybe we just see things differently.”

He looked like a caged tiger prowling in his pen.

“Was it instant?” I asked.

He shook his head. “She was barely alive when I came to.”

“Did you talk to her?”

He nodded. “I held her hand. I told her I loved her. I promised her the world,” a few lone tears filled his eyes. “I begged her to hold on.”

“Do you think she heard you?”

He nodded, “She squeezed my hand. I think she tried to answer me. Her lips curled into a small smile. And then she was gone.” He began to sob openly. I put my arms around him.

“Maybe you were there to make sure she didn’t spend her last minutes alone. I’m sure she felt comforted by that.”

He closed his eyes and held me tight for a fleeting moment. “I don’t know what to do.” He pulled away and turned from me. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Never feel her touch or hear her voice.”

“I don’t know what you’re feeling. But I do know what it’s like to lose someone you love. It sucks. And it will never go away. Only time will make it feel less raw.”

He pulled away and looked in my direction, but wouldn’t let his eyes meet mine. “I know I told you . . . and you expect . . . but everything’s changed.”

I couldn’t help sniffle through my response. Not because I was disappointed, but because I was grateful. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re alive and in one piece. That’s all I care about.”

“Friends?” I was surprised he asked as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Of course we’re friends,” I agreed.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Good, because I need you like I’ve never needed anyone.”

“I’ll always be your friend. You don’t ever have to worry about that.

Twenty-Five

I didn’t allow myself to indulge in self-pity. I had too much to be grateful for. After hearing about the accident from Jordan and seeing pictures he had from the newspaper clippings, I began to get a sense of how awful it was. He needed time to mend, physically and emotionally, with no pressure from me.

It certainly helped that Mom and Maria weren’t barraging me with an “I told you so” attitude. Each respectively encouraged me to continue being supportive, which made the whole situation easier for me to deal with.

In the immediate future I had graduation to help me focus my energy. Since Maria and I were like members of each other’s family, our parents thought it would be nice for us to all go out for dinner after the ceremony. Over the weekend, Maria’s parents would throw her a big party at home, with her many relatives.

Every year our school held graduation at a large convention center in Manhattan. Mom and I hitched a ride with Maria and her parents. The trip was long and hot, even with the air conditioning blasting. Maria and I were decked out in fancy dresses, our hair high and stiff from hairspray. After half an hour, we both complained profusely about how long the ride was taking, and what we were going to look like if we didn’t arrive soon.

We walked three blocks in high heels after leaving the car in a hot, fume-filled parking garage. Now we had something else to complain about: aching feet.

Once we arrived at the convention center we made our way inside and into the comfort of air conditioning. But the damage had already been done. Our hair and makeup didn’t weather the heat as best we hoped. Neither of us said as much, instead, we pulled and pushed at each other’s hair in hopes of making it better.

We stood in the great hall amidst a huge crowd, trying to figure out where we were supposed to go. We looked around aimlessly until we spotted a couple of teachers sent out with the purpose of finding graduates and herding us backstage.

Maria and I joined a group of classmates clumped together, joking and laughing, waiting for our cue to line up for Pomp and Circumstance. We were giddy. One phase of our lives over, the next one ready to begin.

The seating order went according to last names. Luckily, Maria and I weren’t too far from each other and were placed on the same side of the stage, so we could stay together until the last few minutes. I watched Rob and Maria laughing, holding on to each other before we marched to our seats.

He kept his arm around her shoulder or waist, his fingers entwined with hers. No matter what she did, he didn’t lose the contact. Her eyes danced when she looked at him. I realized for the first time how much they really loved each other. And as much as I was part of her life, he was a part that I didn’t belong in.

It wasn’t jealousy that swept over me but a sense of the future. He’d soon consume more of her days. He already took up most of her nights. I understood as their relationship continued to thrive and grow, she’d have less room for me. Like soul mates, they shared their innermost selves with each other. I just didn’t belong. I felt alone.

More alone than ever.

I wished by some miracle Jordan were seated in the auditorium. It was no surprise he declined the invitation but still I was disappointed. He was the one I shared my innermost self with, without ever meaning to. It just happened.

I took a breath, closed my eyes and imagined him out there, waiting to see me receive my diploma. I pictured him standing when he heard my name, clapping, a look of pride on his face. I knew it was only in my head, but for a moment, everything was perfect.

We were called to attention as the countdown to the commencement began. Arms reached and grabbed for one last hug, as we knew this would be the last time many of us ever saw each other. People were calling out, making a last promise to keep in contact. All this was done with the same good intent of preceding classmates, knowing these vows would be broken.

All through the ceremony I tried to stay focused on the guest speaker’s words. “Take hold of the future, grasp with both hands. Believe in yourself, stay true to your heart.”

I did my best to stay in the moment, to relish the bright lights and cheering crowd. I hoped if I remembered every nuance, I might take from it more than a sad sense of nostalgia. No matter what, I wanted to hold the night in my heart forever.

I spoke to Jordan often over the next month. Usually at least once a day. Most conversations were short and lacked any substance.

“What did you do today?” he’d ask, more out of common courtesy than because he had any real desire to know.

“Not much,” my stock answer before getting into a recap of my day. “Went to work, spent the day at the beach, shopping with Maria. How about you?”

He’d either answer with “Nothing,” or “went for a walk,” sounding totally uninterested in anything.

I’d search for questions to ask, “Anywhere special?” I thought if I could get him to elaborate, maybe it would stimulate his brain and revitalize him a bit.

“Just around.” he’d answer, not wanting to play along.

Even though getting my teeth drilled for fillings was less painful, I looked forward to hearing his voice, a reassurance he was alive. But I couldn’t help the nagging voice in my head telling me to back off. I wouldn’t listen, he needed me. And it would have felt too much like giving up on him, and he never gave up on me.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow? Go to the movies maybe?” I’d ask every once in a while, wanting badly for him to say yes, for no other reason than to clear his mind.

“Nah, I have a meeting with my lawyer.”

He always claimed to be too busy. Stock excuses were physical therapy and meetings with his lawyer. He had more meetings with his lawyer than any other client in the history of the world.

A few weeks after graduation on a particularly beautiful night, I decided to walk home from work. It wasn’t the warm, dry breeze, or the clear sky illuminating an unusual amount of stars, even for the city, that made the night so perfect. It was the surprise of finding Jordan sitting on his front stoop listening to the radio.

“Hey!” He called out, “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone in the dark.”

My pulse quickened, and I bit my lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep from smiling, “Are you making me a better offer?”

He didn’t answer. Rather he got up and approached me. My heart ached seeing him up close. He looked as if he had just gotten out of bed, unshaven, eyes cloudy. I’d never seen him so disconnected from the world.

“Is that what you do all day, listen to music and hang out?” I asked trying to keep my tone light and friendly, so he wouldn’t retreat back into himself.

“Sometimes.”

“You look better,” I babbled through the awkward moment of silence between us. “I mean your arm isn’t in the sling. That’s got to be a good sign.” I made it a point to focus on the positive.

“It’s amazing what painkillers can do,” he cracked a smile. “C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

Even though he was somber and the conversation felt forced at times, especially in the beginning, it felt almost normal. Desperate to believe his internal bruises were healing, as well as the external ones, I gratefully accepted, almost normal.