Dare Me (32 page)

And here I am. I can accept what I’ve done to myself, it’s my penance. I can even understand what Jesse did, because he behaved as he usually does, just at a higher level, because of us. I can accept what may happen to my friends. We deserve this. It’s our punishment for thinking we were above the law, outside the system. No one is, even if we like to think so. This world has its hold on us, and those bonds cannot be broken.

But Alexia. I’m responsible for what happened. All of her pain is on me. The boys apologized for everything else. I need to handle this one.

I slide out of bed and almost fall to the floor. But after a moment of steadying myself, I grab my IV stand and use it as a crutch. My head throbs and the suction pads on my chest tether me in place. I unplug the monitors and pull the pads from my body. I’ll explain later. Or not.

I’m wearing those socks with the grip on the bottom and I squeak when I walk. My ass is hanging out the back of my gown, and my head’s wrapped in gauze. I’m a zombie Q-tip, but I don’t care, because down the hall, a door to a room is open and a flower shop full of arrangements and balloons is tucked inside. Alexia’s.

I knock on the door, and her mother looks up. Behind her, the privacy curtain is drawn and my insides curl on themselves.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Alexia’s mom says.

We’ve haven’t seen each other in years. Considering that, and how I look, it makes sense that she doesn’t recognize me. “I, uh, I wanted to see if she’s okay.”

Alexia’s mom frowns. “How do you know my daughter?”

How do I answer this?
I’m an old friend. We work together. I might love her.
I manage, “It’s me, Ben.”

Her face lifts and her eyes bulge. “Ben? Ben Candido? As in Ben from last night?”

I brace for her to swing something at me, but instead she rushes and pulls me into an embrace. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Thank you, Ben. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I let her squeeze and stay quiet. I don’t deserve her thanks.

She releases me from her hug, but holds me at a distance. “Look at you. What happened?” She points at her head.

I shake mine. “I’m going to have a little trouble seeing.” It’s all I can manage.

She squints at me, confused.

“My eye’s gone.”

She holds her hands to her mouth and looks like she’s going to break down. I don’t want, nor do I deserve, her sympathy.

“It was a long time coming,” I say and then have to sit.

We are quiet for a moment. While Alexia’s mom collects herself, my head steadies and I gather the courage to ask, “How is she? They haven’t told me anything.”

Her mother bites her lip. “She has a punctured lung and a lot of scrapes and bruises. Nothing worse. So we’re lucky.” She takes a deep breath. “But I’m worried about inside. I don’t know what that boy did to her.”

I want to kill Jesse all over again, and at the same time I hate myself all over again for letting this happen. I go to apologize but Alexia’s mom places her palm on my back. “Would you like to see her?”

“Please.”

She guides me to her bed and pulls back the curtain. She’s asleep, and looks peaceful.

My head spins and I, again, sit abruptly.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I say. “Don’t worry about me. Please.”

“If you insist.”

I examine Alexia. Her face is puffy from the drugs or the injuries or both. Her hands are stuck with IVs. Her chest is wrapped like my head. Still, she’s beautiful to me. I grab her fingers and remember the other night. They’re warm, and I take that as a good sign. I squeeze and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

I know I’ll have a shit load more of that to do for so many people, but right here, right now, is the most genuine time I’ll say it. Because I am sorry for what happened to everyone, all the problems I’ve caused, especially for her.

I thought we were going to be the shit. Then I thought we were going to be loaded. And all along I thought we were going to die. None of that happened.

Yet in a way, the last did. All of us, from my friends to Jesse and his crew, my parents, Chuck, and Alexia. We’re all changed from this. So maybe I was right. Maybe we did die. Not literally, but figuratively. There’s no way I’m ever going to be the same. I’m scarred and have caused scars. Maybe Ginny’s paper will tell me why? But I don’t really need it to. Deep down I know.

It was all about the dares. They pushed us to be more than we were. Possibly more than we should have been. Maybe we should have been satisfied. Or maybe it’s completely normal to want to change. Or, in my case, to see who I really was?

Regardless, I chose. We all chose. In some way we all wanted this. Not this end, but we set this course in action, stepped on the acceleration, and are now accepting the consequences. That’s life, plain and simple. Here and now.

Legacy doesn’t matter, and money is good, but certain things have to be earned. Like respect. Loyalty. Love.

I love Alexia. I think I always have. But I don’t deserve her.

And of all the outcomes, that is the most painful. The way I abused her trust and sought to be the white knight saving her, that was ridiculous. Alexia never needed me. Not in the way I believed. She has always been stronger, even if Jesse pulled her so far down. Some things take on a life of their own, in spite of who you are. I’ve certainly learned that. Alexia needed someone to help her, not take over. Why couldn’t I see that until now?

I sit back and watch Alexia, and do not care how long it takes for her to wake up. I will be here and I will tell her the truth, all of it, so that she can move forward. So that I can, too.

Daredevil or not, my life has meaning, value. I don’t know what that is or how much, but I’m done with that game anyway. It’s time to set forward on a path in which the consequences are ones I can live with.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story is about our culture, our desire to be seen, and what we are willing to risk for that visibility. It is not a glorification of the daredevil, but rather an examination of why.

Therefore, I thank my agent, Kate McKean, for understanding this premise, for offering insight as I shaped it, and for believing I could make this work. I am still amazed that I found someone who appreciates the craziness of my mind and of my stories.

Lisa Cheng also deserves much credit.
Dare Me
landed on her desk full of life, but a bit disorganized. She teased out what was worthwhile and what needed trimming. It was, at times, a laborious project, but one made infinitely better by her sensibility and intelligence.

My wife, Carrie. What can I say besides thank you for loving me? Without your acceptance of who I am and where my passion lies, my stories wouldn’t exist.

Grace and Kaygan, my daughters. So this one isn’t as rough as
Tap Out
, but don’t go breathing a sigh of relief. I’m still your dad, and I still have plenty of stories to tell. But know that you inspire me. Not only to write, but to appreciate life in the way only children can, with boundless enthusiasm.

To my family, who has always known that my life is a constant dare, and that the thrill of the ride, while jarring, is so worth it.

Mark Ayotte. I’ll keep writing if you keep reading, because you’re batting a thousand.

To my friends, who stood with me on those bridges and jumped. Thank you for your willingness to see just how far we could take it. I’ve yet to find my limit.

Copyright © 2013 by Eric Devine

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E-book ISBN 978-0-7624-5080-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013937586

Cover designed by Joshua McDonnell
Interior designed by Frances J. Soo Ping Chow
Edited by Lisa Cheng
Typography: Adobe Garamond, Agenda, Akzidenz Grotesk, Memphis, and Just Me Again Down Here

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