Stolen Breaths (18 page)

The week flew by and we were waiting for Dr. Connelly to call us into her office. I was fidgeting with my hands in my lap and Cooper reached over and grabbed them with his beautiful masculine ones and brought them up to his mouth, kissing each finger one at a time. “Relax, baby. Everything will be okay.”

“Lily, Cooper, I’m ready now,” Dr. Connelly called out to us. We stood and she led us inside her office. She held out her hand to Cooper. “I’m Dr. Connelly. It’s nice to meet you.”

Cooper shook her hand. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Cooper and I both sat on the sofa, and Dr. Connelly sat on the chair directly across from us. Notebook in hand, she flipped it open and reviewed her notes from our last meeting. Looking up, she directed her attention to Cooper.

“So, Lily tells me that you witnessed what happened to her five years ago and by an odd twist of fate you two met again. How did that make you feel, seeing Lily again after everything?”

Cooper cleared his throat. “Well, at first I was stunned silent. I couldn’t believe she was standing right in front of me.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Then when I found out that she was back because her father died I was sad for her all over again.”

Dr. Connelly nodded in understanding. “As you know, Lily is here because she wants help putting the pieces of her life back together. The parts she doesn’t fully remember. She’s allowed herself to move through these last five years without fully accepting what happened, and it’s caused her anxiety and recently, panic attacks and nightmares. You’re a big piece to this puzzle, Cooper, and your willingness to participate will be part of Lily’s healing.”

“Yes ma’am,” Cooper said, swallowing hard. “I’ll do whatever I need to for Lily.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. If you don’t mind, I would like to start with you. Take us back to that day, Cooper. Start at the beginning.”

Cooper took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, wrestling with how to begin. Then, he opened his eyes and began his story.

March 17, 2008

“I’m going for a run, Grams.”

I need to get out of the house for a while. I’m so tired of the crap back home I need a break from it all, and running helps clear my head. I came to visit my grandparents because I need my family around me sometimes. I get lonely in South Carolina and work is killing me right now. I put on my running shoes and head out the door. I get halfway down the street when I realize that I left my iPod in my room. I was so strung out that I didn’t even remember to bring my music. Screw it. I’m not turning around now.

I wish my dad was still around. I could use some of his sage advice. He never minced words. He believed in saying what you gotta say and let the chips fall where they may. I mentally try to channel my dad’s tenacity while I run, noticing the sun is setting and it’s getting cooler now, which is good because after two miles I’m drenched in sweat. Thinking about turning around I hear what sounds like a scream. I stop dead in my tracks and listen. There it is. I hear it again. It sounds frantic. Where is it coming from? I visually search all around, looking in between houses, and my heart races. Damn it! Where is she? It’s a female’s scream. I can definitely tell that much. The screams are killing me. I run toward a clearing between neighborhoods and I see her. I hear her scream again and she is silenced with a fist to her face. Son of a bitch! She’s being shaken like a rag doll. My feet are running toward her and my eyes stay locked on her. She falls to the ground and he kicks her in the head four or five times. Then he kicks her limp body I don’t know how many more times. I’m yelling at the man before it even registers with my brain that the yells to STOP are coming from me. He just keeps kicking and stomping on her body. Oh my god, he’s killed her! After she hit the ground I never saw her move again.

My adrenaline is pumping and I can’t get to her fast enough. STOP! STOP! It’s all I can say. Good God just stop beating her! The son of a bitch finally looks up and sees me and he takes off running. I could catch him. Do I run after him? No. I have to get her help.

I fall to the ground at her lifeless body. I’m scared to move her. I’m scared to touch her. What if I make her injuries worse by picking her up? What if her neck is broken? Damn it! Shit! What do I do?

She’s bleeding everywhere, it seems like. Her clothes are nearly ripped off and her hair is matted to her head by the oozing blood. I quickly remove my shirt and wrap it around her head to help stop the bleeding. I put my hands under her knees and my arm behind her head to lift her off the ground and I notice that my t-shirt is quickly becoming saturated. Her wrist is dangling unnaturally and she’s making gurgling sounds. I grit my teeth and pray to God I’m not hurting her worse. Her ribs are probably broken and who knows what internal injuries she has. Before I even know what I’ve done I’ve got her in my arms, carrying her down the street yelling for someone to help us. That’s when I saw a man step off his front porch and race toward us. His eyes are wide and a look of horror is evident on his face.

“Please, I need to get her to the hospital! Can you get us there?”

“My car. Put her in my car.” His voice is frantic. He fishes his keys out of his front pockets, hands visibly shaking. Heavy, ragged sobs rip from the deepest part of his core. “That’s my daughter. That’s my Lily.” He drops his keys and bends down to pick them back up.

“Please, sir. We have to go. NOW!”

I’m already in the back seat of his car still holding on to his daughter. I don’t mean to shout at him but I’m scared that she’s going to die in my arms. I keep my face on hers, watching her breathe. I need to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing. Don’t stop breathing, Lily. Don’t stop breathing. I’ve got you. Don’t die on me. I quickly survey her torn flesh up and down her body. She’s losing a lot of blood. I gently hold one of her hands hoping that it’ll bring her a sliver of comfort. And then I notice that two of her fingernails have been ripped off. Jesus Christ! I stare at her face. Just staring at her face because I don’t want to see anymore and I don’t want to not see her face. I just want to see her face and will her to live. Just live. You have to live.

Cooper broke into big weeping sobs, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching the back of his head. “I can’t. No more,” he wailed.

I was completely shattered all over again.

“I can’t either,” I whispered, looking at Dr. Connelly pleadingly. “Please. No more today.”

Cooper stood up and reached for my hand after making an attempt to dry his eyes. I’d never seen him cry and watching him now was ripping my heart out. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. A quiet sob escaped from somewhere deep and I instinctually held him tighter because something told me he needed it. He needed to hold me and I needed for him to hold me. He needed to cry and I needed to let him. He pulled me closer and his sobs got louder. His entire body shook with the force of the pain that spilled from him. Tears were flowing freely from my eyes like a river, but these tears were for Cooper, not for me. These tears I cried now were for the hurt and agony that
he
felt. His deep, penetrating wounds were more painful than my own. His agony was my agony. His sorrow was my sorrow. His hurt was my hurt.

Dr. Connelly finally spoke after a long moment of silence. She closed the notebook that rested on her lap and sat up on the edge of her chair.

“Cooper,” she said soothing, “it’s good to finally let that out. It’s been a long time coming hasn’t it?”

He didn’t answer her, just continued to let it out in low, from the gut, convulsive weeps. I remained still, my legs trembling. I still my thoughts, still the urge to run. I wanted to run fast and far, but I remained still. I remained still because I chose to hold the man who owned my heart, who was hanging on to me as if I was his only lifeline. He certainly was mine. I managed to still everything in me except for the breaths I took. Painful breaths. Because Cooper was my air and my air was consumed by grief. So, yes, breathing was almost unbearable. It was like trying to breathe in fire. It burned from the inside out. I fight another urge to run – to escape the depths of grief I had yet to experience until now.

“It’s okay, you know,” Dr. Connelly said. She stood to hand me the tissue box that sat on the edge of her desk. “Feeling is healing, and you two have a lot of healing to do. These emotions are good in that it lets you heal from the emotional sores that you’ve both been carrying around for so long. Known or unknown, they’ve been there. And now that we are addressing these sores we can start work on healing them. Baby steps. Like a sore on your skin doesn’t heal overnight, neither do these kind. It’s a process and we’ll get there. We can’t change what happened to us or what happened to someone we care deeply for, but we can change the way we deal with it. And we are dealing with it now. This is good.”

Before leaving, Dr. Connelly gave us both her cell number. “In case you need to talk,” she said. “I’ll see you both next week. But if you need me before then just call.”

The elevator doors opened and we walked in together hand in hand. When the door closed Cooper moved in to me and embraced me with both arms, strong and protective. He began to sing Enrique Iglesias’ song, ‘Hero,’ in a low timbre.
Let me be your hero…
It caught my breath. I was lost in his words; lost in his warm breath in my ear; lost to the slow dance our bodies decided on their own to do. I was lost completely – in him.

The elevator door opened and two people got on. Cooper pretended not to notice because he kept singing and we kept time to the song by swaying together. We danced in the elevator like two people slow dancing. It didn’t matter where we were in that moment, because where we were was where we need to be – with each other. Not too long ago, I would have been too embarrassed to do something like this in public with people watching. But I didn’t care anymore; not right now. We needed a moment, and we were taking it. The chorus again…
I can be your hero, baby. I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away.

The elevator stopped between floors again and the doors opened. No one got on and the two people stayed inside with us. The motion of the stopping and starting between floors gave me a slight woozy feeling, but then again, that woozy feeling could be the fact that the keeper of my heart was serenading me after he cried in my arms.

Cooper sang to me while we held each other. I’m not sure how many times the elevator stopped, but when the elevator dinged and the doors opened once more someone cleared their throat.

“This is the first floor. Is this where you two need to get off?”

Cooper took my hand and we both turned to answer the voice that spoke. A lady and a small child were the two people who were riding the elevator with us. I looked down and the woman was holding the child’s small hand in hers. Both had been quiet from the moment they got on. I almost felt like I should apologize now, but instead I offered a smile. “Yes, thank you.”

We stepped out and the lady said, “I think that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” She turned to look at the young boy standing beside her. “That’s what love looks like,” she said to him, pointing at us. A smile stretched across the boy’s face, and Cooper reached out and tousled the boy’s hair. I didn’t really know what to say so I offered a gracious smile to both of them.

“You’re a really good singer,” the boy said, looking up at Cooper with a look of fascination.

“Thank you, little man. Is this your mom?”

“Yeah,” the boy said, looking up at her.

Cooper smiled at them both. “You take care of your mom. She’s the only one you’ll ever have.” He ruffled the little boy’s hair again and we turned to leave.

We could hear the little boy say, “I will. I promise,” as his little voice disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.

Cooper didn’t turn back around but I saw the corners of his mouth turn up when he opened the door for me. “After you, precious.”