Changing Fate (17 page)

Mom falls against the couch. “She probably fell asleep. She’ll come by in the morning.”

Ember puts a sleeping pill in my hand. “You need to get some rest.”

I rub my eyes. “I can’t. She should be here.”

Ember offers a cup of water. “You can call again in the morning. If you don’t take this, I might have to add something to your IV instead. And I really don’t want to do that.”

I take the pill but continue to fight sleep. Giana should be here. I don’t think she’d go to bed without calling. 

Right before I’m about to sleep, the door opens. I sit up and struggle to keep my eyes open.

“Lie down, Kate,” Dad says. His voice is soft and soothing.

I almost drift off, but not until I ask, “What are you doing here so late?” My words slur together and I’m not sure he even knows what I said.

“You need some rest.”

“Where’s Giana?”

No response. I battle the sleeping pill to stay awake long enough to hear his answer. He has to know. Why else would he be here? My heart
beats slower and my body is falling, collapsing with exhaustion. Why isn’t he saying anything?

“Giana’s been hit by a drunk driver.”

Drunk driver.

Drunk driver.

The words echo through my head like an empty cave and my brain shuts off.

Muffled sounds wake me. I try to open my eyes but they’re still heavy with sleep. I focus on the surrounding voices and they become clearer. But they’re only whispers. I can’t hear definite words. Why are they in my room?

Then I remember.

My eyes fly open and I sit up. My skull pounds, making me lie back down, but now Mom and Dad are beside my bed. Behind them stands a tall lady with dark hair sticking out of a blue isolation gown.

“Kate,” Mom says.

“Tell me what happened.” I swallow. “Tell me Giana’s still alive. I need to hear those words.”

Mom nods.

“Those aren’t words. Where is she?”

Dad takes my hand and I pull it back. I don’t need anything sugar-coated. They don’t need to
coddle me to deliver the bad news…It’ll still be bad. If it were good, they wouldn’t look so worried.

“I’ll tell you,” Dad says. “But I need you to stay calm. After everything that’s happen
ed, I’m afraid of what this might do to you.”

“Just tell me.”

Dad mutters something about me being just like Mom. “Okay,” he says. “Giana was hit by a drunk driver. She’s in a coma in the ICU.”

My head spins and my stomach churns.

“So far, she’s been diagnosed with a broken neck.”

Paralyzed
. He doesn’t even have to say it. I take another breath and trap it in my lungs. This
can’t
be happening. Not to Giana.

Dad continues. “She’s lost so much blood she’s in acute renal failure. Her kidneys are beginning to shut down. Other tests are being done right now but that’s the worst of it.”

Worst is right. No best. I clench my fists and hold back a scream.

“Breathe, honey,” Mom says.

I want to do anything but breathe—jab the walls, side-kick the window, tear down everything around me so someone knows what I’m feeling. Dad said it would be okay if Giana came to visit. She’s supposed to be
okay
. She’s supposed to be prom queen. I open my eyes and find the stranger behind Mom and Dad. Her pale face is streaked with mascara. “Who’s that?”

Mom moves to let the lady com
e forward. “This is Giana’s mom, Cindy.”

What’s she doing in my room? She can’t stand
to hear Giana talk about me, let alone see me. I don’t even know what to say to her.

I face Dad. “Do the docs know how long Giana’s going to be in a coma?”

Dad runs a hand down his face. “It could be a day, it could be a month. Really, it’s unpredictable.”

“What about her kidneys? Can they keep them functioning?”

Dad frowns. “Barely.”

Cindy
sniffles loudly as she leaves the room.

“Why was she here?” I ask.

Mom holds my hand and I let her. “She wanted to see you. I don’t know why exactly, but I’m thinking it has to do with remembering her daughter’s courage. Maybe to get a glimpse of her granddaughter’s future.”

I close my eyes. “That’s the last thing she needs right now.”

My mind bounces back to Giana and panic rises up my throat. My hands tremble and I can’t hold back the tears. What if Giana dies? I’ve always considered my death, but I’ve never thought about anyone else’s. Death has been staring me in the face my whole life, especially these last few days. Giana might not ever have the chance to say goodbye.

My soft cries turn into hard sobs and I can’t get
enough air. Mom’s trying to calm me down and Dad urges me to take longer breaths.

But I can’t—especially now that they’re yelling
. I’m not even crying anymore, just wheezing and choking and bent in half, coughing up stuff. It comes out red and mom holds my hand tighter as she screams at Dad to do
something
. My throat is on fire and a sharp pain stabs my chest. Dad’s racing around me, checking monitors and calling for a nurse. He gives Mom a task, but I lose track of his words. They’re just a mix of chaos.

Pain.

Burning.

Dying—

Blackness takes over so I close my eyes and see silver sparkles every time I cough. The pain in my chest shoots to my stomach and shoulders. It’s like someone’s decided to use me for dart practice. Sharp needles of fire pierce each part of my body and I try to scream through my coughing.

I have to give in. I don’t know how to fight anymore.

I pretend the pain is a sad song. Kyler’s voice fills my head, but it’s not a happy sound. It’s hollow, mournful, and it grates at my heart.

I give in to the strange melody and
lose myself to the darkness.

I’m awake. The walls aren’t tan anymore. They’re white, and they match the bright curtain to my right. At any moment it will open to show me the stairway to heaven. That’s where I must be. Why else would my pain be gone?

I
try to open my mouth and call out, but the words don’t leave my throat. They’re stuck on something. I lean my head back and there’s a tug from my nose to my stomach. I swallow and it doesn’t feel right. This can’t be heaven.

I turn my head
only to find that I’m still chained to the wall.

The curtain parts and Mom steps through. She comes to my side. “Oh, Kate,” she whispers. “My favorite girl.”

I blink once and wonder what happened. For the second time in my life, I thought I was dead, but this time waking up is worse. I can’t even talk. That’s not living, that’s being dragged face-down along a rocky road while others get to watch. Maybe if I can get ahold of a cell phone, I could text my words to Mom.

But my hands are bound by needles and tubes. I think this is what they call a living vegetable. Veggies are healthy
, though, so it doesn’t apply to me. I’m barely living and I’m far from healthy. Can’t they just pull the plug?

Mom scoots a chair beside me and sits with her hands in her lap. “You’re suffering from respiratory failure.”

Medical term for…I should be dead. If they know I’m suffering, why are they making me live this way?

“You’re on a mechanical ventilator and there’s a tube down your throat. That’s why you can’t talk.”

I try to open my mouth, to prove her wrong, but I can’t. I have to think of something else…what else did she just say? More terms I don’t know. I’m not sure I even want to figure out what they mean. Mechanical…not my own. She could’ve just told me I now have robotic organs that can only last so long.

Maybe then I’d actually die.

I close my eyes and try to slip away like I did before. This time, I can’t let go of the memories. The wooden carving, Kyler’s kiss. Oh, how I want to see him again. 

Another voice makes me open my eyes. Dad’s standing next to Mom now. His face looks like the one he’d use to deliver bad news to a patient. Maybe I should let him know it’s already been done.

“There’s still no match for your lungs,” he says. “But Dr. Farrow should be here soon.”

I want to tell him to stop talking about me, stop telling me things I already know. Isn’t there some way to communicate with him? I shake my head and he closes his mouth.

The sudden silence is awkward but it’s much better than discussing impossible options. What else would he talk about? Giana’s status? I hope she’s doing better, but I don’t trust my hopes anymore. 

“Kyler’s coming to visit you today,” Mom says. “He told me he’d come by after school
, so he should be here soon.”

School? I’ve been unconscious that long? Oh well. Who cares about time anymore? Now that I’m in the ICU, every hour will feel the same. Lights will be on, nurses will
talk, patients will make their dying noises. That’s why we’re all in here, because we’re not able to live on our own. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, but technically I’m not breathing for myself anymore. The machine cranks out noise and I see my chest rise and fall.

Someone rubs the top of my head before I hear Mom and Dad leave and the curtain pull closed.

It’s been a while since I’ve let my mind linger on Kyler. With everything going on, I feel like I haven’t seen him in weeks instead of days. I try to picture his face but I can’t remember it perfectly. So I focus on the things I do remember: his single freckle, the bouncy curls, the way my heart leaps when he talks. The moment his lips pressed against mine with a tenderness that set my spirit free. His voice fills my head and I’m walking down a pebbled path. The air is fresh and the architecture is curved, colorful, and unique. A soft violin plays in the distance as a nearby street artist dips his brush into a vibrant blue. The moment is almost perfect, peaceful. If only I could smell baked croissants and not medicines or antiseptics. 

Kyler shows up a while later
. His space suit
poofs
out the sides as he takes a seat next to me. “Hello, Kate.” The simple words send adrenaline through my body. My heart picks up speed and warmth spreads through the cold numbness.

Since I can’t talk, I nod once and try to smile.

Kyler reaches for my fingers and my chest bursts with a flurry of anticipation. But when he touches me, I don’t feel a thing. My happiness sinks and I curse the doctors. Why is my whole body numb?

“The fundraiser went well,” Kyler tells me. “Giana had me sing a few songs during the program while they played a slideshow of your life.”

I freeze and stare. I didn’t know that was going to happen. No one asked my permission for that.

Kyler must sense my unease. “They were good pictures, nothing that showed any of your treatments or anything.”

My shoulders relax a little.

“I think it helped people connect with you.” He
grins. “Trust me, seeing you really helps.”

How does it help? I want him to go on, explain what he means. Is it because I look like a little girl so they have more sympathy or is it because he likes the way I look? My face
grows hot and I glance at the white walls to help clear my mind.

“Kate.”

I turn back.

“I’m sorry about Giana.” His eyes are distant. “My mom died the same way. Drunk driver. Idiots. All of them…” His voi
ce trails off, his words weighing me down.

I want to scream, curse, do
something
to release the storm of anger.

Kyler blinks once and rubs his eyes. When his hand falls, the sorrow has melted. He
narrows his gaze on me and tilts his head. “When you get out of here, I have somewhere special to take you.”

I shake my head. Why do people keep talking about when I get out of here? Can’t they see that I’m lying on my death bed? It doesn’t get any better than this. There is no more
when
; it’s all about
now
.

“Listen,” he says.

I keep shaking my head. If he wants to talk about me getting out, he can talk about it with the mortician.

“I got a job,” he says.

I pause. I thought he was going to bring up karate lessons or French concerts.

“I’m working at a local French café where I serve food and sing to the customers. It’s nothing fantastic, but it keeps me busy.”

Busy enough to not think about me and my death. I nod. That’s good. It’s exactly what he needs.

He sighs and closes his eyes. “And it reminds me of you.”

No! No! That’s
not
what he needs. Once I’m gone, he can’t work at a place that reminds him of the two people who’ve died in his life. He needs to quit. If only I could move my hands, I’d rip this tube out of my throat and tell him to go away and never think of me again. Instead, the frustration builds inside me and bubbles to the surface. Tears well in my eyes and run over my temples into my ears.

“Hey,” Kyler says. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

I blink several times and try to stop the flow of tears.

Kyler’s eyes light up. “Did anyone tell you who’s on the other side of that curtain?”

The tears stop and I arch my eyebrows with curiosity. He must mean someone besides the cranky nurse that keeps checking on me every hour. Too bad Ember isn’t here today.

“Giana’s bed is only a few feet away.”

I turn my head and stare at the curtain like she might suddenly appear—long hair, healthy skin, happy smile. But that’s not what she’d look like now. She’s probably tied to a bed with medical devices I can’t even name. Just like me.

My gaze switches back to Kyler and he watches me with careful eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking. Hopefully he’ll quit his job. Once I’m gone, the memories will chase him away from there. Then he’ll be searching again for the right song to mend his torn heart—a song that can’t be sung to lovers in a restaurant, can’t be found in a different language, and probably doesn’t even have a name.

But if he doesn’t find it, it will find him. He recovered once before and he can do it again.

He hums softly and my meds pull me toward sleep. A content feeling courses through me
and my numb body sinks farther into the mattress, closer toward death. There are so many things I’m going to miss, but they can’t keep me here. I can’t hold onto them any longer. I release the tethered memories and watch them drift away.

No more France. I’ll never get to go there in person, and I’ll never set foot in a real palace. No more darts or karate. I’ve finally lost the fight, and there’s no more anger to release. No more Giana, no more Dad, and no more Mom.

The only thing left is Kyler. As long as he’s singing, I can’t let him go. But once he steps past my curtain, my memory of him will also be no more.

He hums for a while and when he stops, I’m sure this is the last time I’ll see his freckled face. I open my eyes and he’s looking past me. I turn my head and find my nurse holding a clipboard with pursed lips.

She pushes down on the top of her pen and it clicks. “Someone informed me that you know a patient here by the name of Giana.”

My heart stops. I’m sure of it. Even though the machine still whirs, I try to hold my breath. The nurse is going to tell me that Giana’s alive and recovering.

“What is it?” Kyler asks.

The nurse licks her lips. “Her mom wants to talk to you.”

My heart skips again and I sink into my pillow. No.
This
isn’t the ending I was supposed to have. Why does she want to see me again? I want to pull out the tubes and unplug every machine, but all I can do is shake my head. And I do, over and over. Close my eyes and shake my head like a wind-up toy. Someone cranked my lever and I’m living my last cycle.