In Another Life (5 page)

The voice was familiar but not. I tried to think my way out of the cotton in my head.

“Come on back. You can do it,” he said.

I tried to figure out where I was and suddenly remembered where I’d been: the bathtub. I’d finally done it. After years of feeling like I’d never belong, like the small bits of happiness I’d found in life weren’t nearly enough to outweigh the pain, like nobody would miss me if I was gone, I’d claimed to have a bad headache, waited for my parents to leave for a Hanukkah dinner, and then taken a razor to my wrist.

It seemed I hadn’t succeeded in ending my life. I was trying to decide whether that was a good thing, when I finally managed to pry my eyes open. That’s when I saw him. He looked different from how I remembered. Younger. Plus, he smelled different, which was a weird thing to think, but I noticed it right away. And he was wearing blue pants and a matching blue shirt with a patch on the side embroidered with the letters EMT. It was clearly a uniform, and my memories of him were in scrubs or jeans or…. I’d seen the man naked.

“Travis?” I croaked, the sound barely audible.

“There you are,” he said gently. Then his brow wrinkled in confusion, and he said, “How do you know my name?”

At first, the question didn’t make sense because I had lots of memories of Travis bouncing in my head. But they were getting fuzzy—like a dream that fades not long after you wake up. And they didn’t match with my other memories, my clearer ones. How could I know what he looked like nude? The only men I’d seen without clothes had been stolen glances and erotic fantasies. Was that why I thought I knew him? Were the memories in my head nothing more than a vivid dream? I remembered his soft lips slanting over my mine, and my heart clenched—that didn’t feel like a dream.

Without waiting for the answer to his question, Travis said, “Let me get the nurse in here.”

It was a whirlwind day after that. Nurses, doctors, counselors, and my parents all piled in and out of the room. I was tired and confused, so in all the commotion, I didn’t notice Travis slipping away. When I was finally alone, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

My mind was awash with contradictory feelings. I remembered trying to be like everyone else, trying to be normal and failing. I remembered being terrified of what my parents and my brothers would think if they knew the truth about me, knew I felt
that way
about other guys. I remembered being so tired of being laughed at by my classmates, of not having any real friends, and of feeling so alone I ached and cried myself to sleep. And I remembered deciding everyone, myself included, would be better off if I wasn’t around anymore.

But then I thought of Travis, and I remembered his smile. I remembered the touch of his hand and the warmth of his lips. I remembered laughing with him and caressing him. I remembered loving him. It had to have been a dream; that was the only thing that made sense. But it felt as real as anything else.

“I’m going to be leaving for the night, Shiloh, but Marci will be here if you need anything, and I’ll be back in the morning.”

I turned my head toward the door and smiled at the nice nurse who had been helping me all day.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. I gulped and decided to be bold. “Can I ask you something?”

She walked over to my bed, her eyes warm. “Yes, of course. Is your arm feeling okay? Do you need more medicine?”

I looked down at my bandaged arm and blinked in surprise. I’d cut myself, so the evidence shouldn’t have taken me off guard, but that seemed like a distant memory and not something I’d done the previous evening.

“Uh, no. I mean yes. I mean—” I took a deep breath. “My arm is fine. I don’t need more medicine. What I want to know is—” I licked my lips. “There was a guy in here when I woke up this morning. He’s the one who got you. His name is Travis Kahn….” I paused when his full name left my lips. How did I know that? Didn’t matter; it was right. “He was wearing a blue EMT uniform.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Travis is the EMT who brought you in. He was very worried about you. He stuck around while the docs were working on you, and he didn’t leave your side until after you woke up.” She paused and furrowed her brow in consideration. “He’s usually more interested in shadowing the ED docs than he is in spending time with patients after he has them off his rig.”

I heard Travis’s voice in my head:
I’m a doctor. Emergency medicine. I work at Southeast Medical Center.

“He’s not a doctor?”

She shook her head.

“He will be,” I whispered. “He’s going to be an emergency doctor one day.”

“Do you know Travis?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered instinctively and then thought better of it. “I mean, no, not really, but he uh, looked familiar.”

“The human body is an amazing thing.” She nodded sagely. “You were unconscious when the ambulance got to your house last night, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have some awareness of what was going on around you. Maybe you heard the EMTs talking.”

I didn’t think that was why he was familiar. The glimpses I remembered couldn’t have been things he’d said while he’d been saving me, but I saw no point in arguing with her. Besides, how could I explain the dreams that felt more like memories without getting myself admitted to a psych hospital for yet another reason? As it was, I’d had to assure my parents and every doctor I’d seen that day that I no longer wanted to hurt myself.

“Yes, maybe,” I said with a shrug. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Be back?” she asked, sounding confused. “EMTs don’t work at the hospital. They just bring the patients in, and then they leave.”

My eyes filled at those words, but I wasn’t sure why, and I didn’t want her to know how affected I was by the thought of not having Travis by my side. “Okay,” I said. I turned over so my back was to her. “Thank you for your help. Have a good night.”

She was quiet for a few beats, and then she said, “You too, Shiloh. Things will look better in the morning. If not tomorrow, than the one after that or the one after that.” She paused. “But you need to make sure you’re here to see that for yourself.”

I nodded, but my throat felt too thick for words, so I didn’t say anything, and then I heard her walking away. I waited for the door to snap closed, rolled onto my back, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to get my confusing thoughts into a logical order.

“Good, you’re still awake.” Travis’s deep voice filled the room, causing me to snap my gaze toward the door.

“Travis,” I sighed in relief at the sight of him. I yanked my right arm—the uninjured one—out from underneath the covers and held it out to him. “Where did you go?”

His steps faltered, but he kept walking forward. “I had to go to work.” When he got within arm’s reach, he dropped his gaze to my outstretched hand and then raised it to my face. “My shift just ended, and I needed… wanted… came here to check on you.” He looked at my hand again. “How did you say you knew my name?”

“Well, uh, the nurse said the human body is amazing and maybe I heard your name when you saved me.” I paused. “Did you save me?”

His cheeks reddened a smidge. He raised his emerald gaze to meet mine. “Not on my own, but I was the first on the scene.” He finally took my hand. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you hurt yourself?”

I could have said a lot of things, but it all came down to one problem, or at least it had felt like a problem. I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“I’m gay,” I said, not quite able to meet his gaze.

He was still holding my hand, so I could feel him stiffen, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he plopped his broad, muscular body down on the chair next to my bed.

“That’s not a reason to take a razor to your wrist,” he said hoarsely.

“I know.” I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand and trembled. Whether it was from fear of how he’d react or joy over finally getting to touch a man in that way, I wasn’t sure.

He raised his gaze and looked into my eyes. “You know?”

I shrugged. “I do now.”

He looked at me appraisingly. “What changed between last night and tonight?”

“Nothing.” I paused. “Everything.” I dragged in a shaky breath. “I, uh, remembered things—” I looked into his eyes. “I dreamed things.” They were fantasies, my logical mind knew that, but they felt more like memories.

My whole extended family gets together for the last night, uncles, aunts, cousins, the whole bit.
The words swam through my head.

“What day is it? I only got here last night, right? So tonight’s the
twenty-fifth?”

He nodded.

“Why aren’t you with your family?” I asked.

“Hard as it might be to believe, with the music seeping in from the hallway and the overabundance of decorative sweaters, not everyone celebrates Christmas,” he said playfully. “I’m Jewish.”

I smiled in reaction to his grin, remembering how much I loved his happy nature. “I know. I am too. What I meant was, it’s the last night of Hanukkah. Shouldn’t you be at your—”
We used to celebrate at my grandparents’ house before they passed away and the last few years it’s been at my aunt’s house
“—your grandparents’ house?”

His jaw dropped. “How did you know that?”

I flipped my wrist so his palm was facing up, traced my fingers over it, and looked up at him from underneath my lashes. “I remember it.”

“Remember? I don’t—” He shook his head. “We didn’t meet until last night, or, really, this morning. I wouldn’t have forgotten something like that. How did you know about my family celebration?”

Not having the words to answer his question, I took a steadying breath and said, “I remember a lot of things.” I gulped. “Like, you’re going to be a doctor, right?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m starting medical school in the fall. How did you—”

“I had this dream.” I licked my lips. “After I—” I darted my gaze toward my arm as a reminder of what I’d done to myself in the bathtub. “I had this dream of the future, and you were in it.”

“You dreamed about me?” His voice was husky and low, his nostrils flared.

“I think so. But it didn’t feel like a dream, it felt like….”
I think the reason nobody else ever felt right for me was because I’ve been waiting for you.
“Do you ever feel like you’ve been waiting for something?” I flicked my gaze away and then back to him again. “Or someone?”

He leaned forward, his eyes wide, his expression captivated. “You’re starting to freak me out,” he said, but he didn’t back away from me.

“Do you believe in fate?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Fate?” he rasped.

“You’re going to State,” I said. “For medical school.”

“Yes.”

“That’s where I’m supposed to go in the fall.” I rubbed my lips together. “It’s perfect; we can date.”

He reared back. “Date? What makes you think I’m gay?

I looked down at our still joined hands.

He followed my gaze and then said, “Fine. But what makes you think I want to date you?”

I think when it’s right—I mean truly right—you know it from the start.

“You do,” I said, feeling more confident, both in what I thought Travis wanted and in myself. “Hey! Do you need a roommate?” I asked excitedly. “Because I’d rather not live in the dorms.”

“I have a one-bedroom,” he said dryly.

“Even better!”

That response got a big belly laugh out of him. “Are you always this aggressive?” he asked, looking at me fondly.

“No.”

“No?” His green eyes twinkled, and he gave me a wry grin. “So I’m just lucky, is that it?”

“I’m the lucky one,” I said softly as I looked at his thick blond hair and remembered running my fingers through it. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”

Chapter 5

Shiloh, Age 18

I
DIDN
’
T
remember falling asleep, but I must have because suddenly it was morning, and my mother was sitting in Travis’s chair. Well, it was the hospital’s chair, but he’d been the one sitting in it last night, holding my hand, telling me silly stories about his friends and his family and some people he saw on his calls through work. I had made a mental note never to combine alcohol consumption, a hard blow of my breath, and a lighter.

“Good morning, sweetie,” my mom said softly and brushed my hair off my forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I croaked and then cleared my throat and tried again. “Good.”

She opened her mouth, stared at me, closed it, and then opened it again. “Good?” she asked disbelievingly.

I nodded.

She did the “open mouth, close mouth” thing again and then closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, looking tired and frustrated. “You tried to kill yourself, Shiloh.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, like the words were too heavy to say. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me searchingly. “How is that good?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice sounding small.

“You’re sorry?” Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re sorry?”

“Mom, I—”

“No!” she snapped and then sat up straight. “I thought you were dead! I came home because I was worried about leaving you alone with that headache you said you had, and then I walked into the bathroom and you….” She whimpered and swiped angrily at the drops rolling down her cheeks. “You weren’t breathing. I couldn’t find a pulse. I thought you were dead!” She stood up and then flung herself over me and hugged me tightly. “You’re my baby, Shiloh. And I thought you were dead.”

Her shoulders shook as she clung to me, and I realized I’d been wrong about nobody missing me if I were gone.

“I won’t do it again, Mom.” I wrapped my arms around her and saw the white bandage from the corner of my eye. What had I looked like before they’d cleaned me up and hidden the marks I’d made? I flinched as I thought about my mother walking in on that. “I promise,” I said, trying to impart my conviction through my tone. “I’ll never do it again.”

She didn’t react to my words for a long time; she just hung onto me and cried. But eventually she sat back in the chair, reached for a tissue from the box next to my table, and wiped off her face.