Hopeless For You (6 page)

As for the rest of the guests, Gina and I had spent two full days putting together the event on Facebook and inviting everyone. We'd called it
Ash's Kick-Ass Engagement Party
. The turnout was fantastic, even a half hour into the party. Most of my girlfriends were here. I didn't see any of Devon's friends, though. I wasn't sure how many of them he'd invited—probably none, given the arguments we'd had about the party. Too bad for him.

Devon's family still hadn't arrived yet. When I called to check on him, we ended up squabbling, this time over a drink.

Gina and I had planned the party as best we could in the short time we had, but we'd forgotten one of the most important items: a bottle of White Gold. It was traditional for Devon and I to share a bottle of the stuff on every special occasion. It was our "couples" drink, and things like anniversaries and birthdays just weren't the same without it. Devon was usually the one who brought it. But when I called him, he told me he assumed Gina and I had already gotten a bottle so he hadn't grabbed one. Boy, did I chew him out.

He said it was too late to pick up a bottle now and we should just have the party without it.

I said no. I wanted everything to be perfect, remember?

Devon finally caved. He hadn't left home yet because he was going to hitch a ride with his folks, but his mom and dad still weren't ready and most of his household had the night off so he told me he'd just go out in his own vehicle and grab the bottle. That wasn't a problem because he'd just turned twenty-one and could buy drinks legally.

"I can't believe how he acted on the phone," I told Gina after I hung up. "He didn't even say good-bye. I mean, he was the one who was supposed to pick up the bottle in the first place. He always does. And now all of a sudden, you and I are in charge of picking it up just because we're planning the party?"

Gina smiled sympathetically. "Well, he does have a point. We
are
the party planners, after all. If I were him, I would've assumed we had it covered, too. It's just too bad we didn't think of it."

I refused to admit she was right. "I don't know... is it me or is Devon becoming a jerk now that he's asked me to marry him?"

"Ash, I hate to say this, but it's definitely you." Gina patted me on the shoulder. "What's been eating you lately? You're definitely not yourself."

I hadn't told her how I was feeling. How could I? I wanted to get married as fast as possible to avoid anything bad happening, which was ridiculous. Who does that?

When I didn't say anything, Gina sighed. "Must be engagement jitters. That or too much free time on your hands."

Gina was right about the latter. Having time off from class was definitely a bad thing because it gave me too much time to think about my situation. I'd just spent my first term at UT taking premed, something I didn't want to be doing at all.

Devon knew the story. Before the semester began, I'd told him I wanted to be a veterinarian, and that my folks where forcing me to become a doctor instead—my mom insisted that I follow in her footsteps because a veterinarian just didn't have the same prestige as a doctor. Devon had listened, but he said that premed and prevet were pretty much the same and I could just change it later. Somehow, I didn't think that would work out too well. I felt like I was leading my folks on, and changing later would only make things harder for me. If I waited too long, I knew I'd never do it.

God, I wished I was a stronger person, someone who could stand up to my folks. Someone like Gina. Because I felt like I was wearing one of those wool sweaters you weren't supposed to put in the washing machine, but somehow I'd done just that and cranked the heat up on high so that the sweater was growing tighter by the minute.

No surprise then that with all these pent-up emotions and feelings roiling around inside me, I was taking out my frustrations on Devon.

Still, I had my doubts about the whole thing. "I don't know, Gina. Do you think it's really just me?" I swallowed the knot that was rising in my throat. "I mean, we've been fighting ever since he proposed. Do you think he's regretting it? Maybe it would've been better if we'd never become engaged."

Gina looked at me kind of funny and then she gave me a hug. "You poor thing. I wouldn't worry about it. Couples have their ups and downs. You should know that by now better than anyone."

"Well, sure, but I'm nineteen. He's twenty-one. Maybe it's too early for the both of us."

Gina smiled. Patiently, I thought. "You're just a bit scared of the wedding Ash, that's all. Spending your whole life with someone is a scary prospect. Nineteen or twenty-one or thirty-five, marriage is always going to be a bit scary. Why do you think I'm still playing the field? But come on. This is silly. You love him. He loves you. You've been together three years.
Three years
."

She was right: I was scared. And he did love me as much as I loved him. I thought back to Christmas Eve and the vows we'd exchanged and the love we'd made that night. Our behavior since then was downright ridiculous. At least mine was. Like I said, it felt too good to be true, and I guess I was so certain things were going to go wrong that I'd started making them go wrong myself. A self-fulfilling prophecy sort of thing.

Gina put an arm around my shoulder. "Come on, Ash, let's go to the churro table."

I sighed in defeat. "I could use a couple of churros right about now. More than a couple." As Gina led me away, I promised her, "I'm going to stop these fights with Devon. I'm going to get my life straightened out. That's my New Year's resolution. I'm going to switch to the degree that
I
want to take, not the degree my folks want. And Devon's going to be there at my side through it all. Together we're going to take life by the horns."

Gina and I were hanging out at the churro table and I was in the process of eating my third churro of the evening when my phone rang.

It was Devon's mom.

I answered it, feeling happier than I'd felt all week. Things were finally going to work out. Things were finally going to get better, just like Devon had promised they would.

"Ash?" It sounded like Devon's mom had been crying.

My heart beat faster. I felt a rising sense of dread and I couldn't silence the voice that was whispering to me from deep inside.

I was right I was right I was right.

Something horrible has happened.

And it's all my fault.

"Yes?" I said, my voice trembling.

"Are you sitting down?"

My God. No. This wasn't happening.

It
couldn't
be happening.

In a daze, I walked across the room until I found a chair. I sat down. Fell down, really.

"It's Devon," she continued, almost choking up. "He's been in an accident. Drunk driver."

I couldn't process the words for a few seconds. I just stared into space, blinking.

"What?" My throat had constricted and I couldn't recognize my own voice, which came out in this high-pitched whine. I couldn't see, either. Not a thing. My eyes burned and my face felt wet. My hearing was strangely amplified, though, and I heard only one sound, the voice of Devon's mom. She'd become the only thing that existed in the world for me at this moment. All other sight and sound was extraneous. The people laughing and dancing around me. The happy singing of the Mariachi band.

"He was on the way to the store. It was a head-on collision. The airbag didn't deploy. Ash...."

Neither of us said anything for long moments.

"He's... he's okay, right?" I managed to say through the daze of shock. "He's going to be okay?"

There was a long pause. "He wanted me to tell you he's fine."

The tight clamp that had closed around my throat opened back up. I'd never felt more relieved in my life.

Devon was going to be okay.

If he'd left a message with his mom, that meant he was up and about and talking. He was fine.

"Thank God," I said.

"Ash, we're at UT Medical. Better... better get here soon."

I left the party without saying a word to anyone. I thought I heard Gina calling my name, but her voice sounded distant, dreamy. I ran, staggering, to my car.

Devon was fine. I was sure of it. His mom would have told me if anything were wrong. And I would have felt something if he were hurt, wouldn't I? We were soulmates. Our psyches were joined beyond the physical realm.

He was fine.

I could barely see the road for the haze that clouded my vision. My breath sounded loud in my ears. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. There was a red light. I drove through it. I almost hit a crossing pedestrian. I drove through a stop sign. Another car
slammed on the brakes.

He was fine.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and when I opened the car door, I tripped on my high heels and almost fell. I abandoned the heels and ran in my stockings.

He wasn't fine.

Devon had third-degree burns over eighty-percent of his body.

He should've been dead, but somehow he'd clung to life.

When they finally let me into his hospital room, I couldn't even see his face because he was wrapped in gauze from head to toe. Little holes had been poked in the fabric for his mouth, nose, and eyes. He was unconscious, and his breathing sounded strained, like every inhalation was a fight.

Only his left hand remained un-bandaged. The hand on which he wore the engagement ring I'd given him. Strangely, the fire hadn't touched it.

He'd crawled away from the burning car on his own before it exploded. The doctors said he should've died from his injuries in the car, but he'd
crawled away
. He was a fighter. They were convinced he was going to pull through this because someone who had found the inner fortitude to crawl away from a burning car just didn't die in the end. It went against nature. Not just the doctors were saying that.
Everyone
was.

They made me go home but I returned again the next day and sat at his bedside, holding his hand. It was New Year's Day. Devon hadn't regained consciousness. Probably for the best, at least for now, because if he did he'd only know a world of pain. An IV drip provided a steady stream of morphine and saline into his body.

We were alone. His folks and mine had gone to the cafeteria to give me some time with him. The nurses were a shout away.

"Devon," I said. My eyes and nostrils burned from all the crying I'd done yesterday and today, and my throat itched. I stared at his featureless face. At the gauze that wrapped most of his body. "I know you're still in there. I know you can hear me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to go out and pick up that bottle." Choking up, I shut my eyes for a second. The steady beep of his heart-rate monitor permeated the room. "There are so many things I have to tell you. So many things I've left unsaid. I swear, I'm going to be a better person. I swear I'm never going to fight with you again. I love you. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but I've loved you through the good times and the bad. That's why we're getting married, right?" I tried to smile through the tears. "Devon. We're going to spend our lives together. You can't go. Not now. Not when we're so close to tying the knot. Not when we're so close to starting our lives. This is our time. Our
start
." I couldn't help the tears now, and the waterworks just flowed. "When you're better, we'll run away, just the two of us. I don't care what you look like. I don't care if I have to push you around on a wheelchair all day. We'll go somewhere where there's no school, no peer pressure, no parents to tell us what to do. Maybe Europe. Or Canada. Or even Mexico." I entwined my hand in his. I felt our two rings touch. The
clink
sounded so sad to me—it was just a whimper without him there to push back. "Can you imagine the two of us in Mexico? On the beach? Sipping piña coladas by the pool? We could eat churros and tacos and drink margaritas all day." I squeezed his hand tightly. So tightly. "We'll get through this, Devon. Don't forget your promise to me. Don't you dare. You swore you'd never leave me." I let go of his hand and stood up. "You're too young to die. You're a fighter. Everyone's saying it. Well fight, damn you. Fight!"

But nothing could hold him here. Not all the money his folks had. Not his inner strength, not the promise he'd made to me, not even the love we had for each other.

They'd said he couldn't die.

Except he could.

And he did.

He never regained consciousness.

Two days after the New Year I buried Devon.

* * *

Present day...

I was wide awake when the first rays of the sun trickled through my window. Tapping my phone, I saw it wasn't even 5 a.m. yet. I cleared my 6 a.m. alarm and slipped out of bed. The birds were singing. It sounded like a sad song to me. Most songs did these days.

I took my towel to the communal bathroom and was glad to find the place completely empty. I locked the door and showered as fast as I could. I left my fiancé's ring hanging around my neck. I rarely took it off. A part of him lived on inside of me and always would.