Keep Me in Your Heart (23 page)

Panicky, she looked up and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She heard someone behind her shift in their chair. Suddenly, her shoulders started heaving and she began to cry uncontrollably. “I—I can’t do this!” she sobbed.

And while everyone watched, Trisha turned and hurried off the stage, past the red velvet curtain and out the side door, into the bitter cold of the February morning.

Eleven
 

T
risha navigated the empty hallways to a bathroom by the gym and locked herself into one of the stalls. She leaned against the cold, hard steel and cried. She cried for Christina. She cried for Cody. She cried for herself. She cried for the sheer embarrassment of breaking down in front of the entire senior class.

She was drying her eyes when she heard a tentative knock on the stall’s door. “Go away,” she said. “This one’s occupied.”

“Trisha? It’s Abby Harrison. Will you open the door?”

“Abby … please … leave me alone.”

“No can do. The principal sent me to find
you. I’m supposed to bring you to the office. Actually, I volunteered,” Abby added when Trisha didn’t answer.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I know what you’ve been going through.”

Trisha unlocked the door, threw it open, and glared at Abby. “People say that all the time. But it’s a lie! Nobody knows how I feel. How could you?”

Abby stepped aside as Trisha brushed past her and crossed to the row of sinks. She tagged after Trisha and stood beside her while Trisha washed her face with cool water. Abby said, “I know because when I was in middle school, my older brother, Carson, fell asleep at the wheel of his car, crashed into a telephone pole, and died.”

Trisha looked up, catching Abby’s brown-eyed gaze in the mirror.

Abby held her gaze. “It was the worst year of my life. Everything reminded me of him. At home his room was next to mine. I couldn’t pass the door without breaking down.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“And don’t forget the year of ‘firsts’ ahead of you—things you have to get through without her. First birthday—yours and hers. First
Christmas. First day of school. First anniversary of her death. Well, you get the picture.”

Trisha got it. “If you’re trying to make me feel worse—”

“No way. I just want you to know, you’re not the first person to have this happen. Friends and people we love die. It’s horrible. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I lost it in front of the whole class. I was supposed to say wonderful things about her, and when the time came, I lost it. I let her down. I let her memory down.”

“No one thinks any less of you. Everyone knew it was going to be hard for you to stand up there and say a bunch of stuff when you’re still so broken up. The principal knows it too, and if you’ll come to the office with me, he and Mrs. Dodge are going to apologize for putting you on the spot that way. They realize they made a mistake.”

Trisha blotted her face on paper towels. Her reflection in the mirror looked ghastly. Her lip was still puffy, and the bruising under her eye had turned an ugly yellowish blue. “I don’t need his apology. I just want to go home.”

“He feels guilty. If we ask real nice, I’m sure he’ll let me drive you home.”

“Do you think so?”

“Let’s ask.” Abby retrieved Trisha’s crutch and gave it to her.

Trisha got to the door, stopped, and turned.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked.

“I used be the one who went to find Christina when she was hiding and crying in the bathroom. It was one of my roles in her life.”

“Did she do it often?”

“More and more this year. And it was always about Tucker Hanson. They were supposed to be in love, but he made her pretty unhappy at times.”

Abby pulled open the door for Trisha. “Well, I promise not to chase you down whenever you want to hide in the bathroom and cry. Just come find me when you feel that way, and we’ll talk.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder. “I really do know how bad you hurt, Trisha. I really, really do.”

The principal was generous to Trisha and allowed Abby to take her home. Her mother met them at the door and, after thanking Abby, ushered Trisha into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me you were asked to speak at
the memorial service?” she asked. “I certainly would have advised you against it.”

Trisha shrugged listlessly. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I didn’t expect to get blindsided by my own emotions. I wanted to pay tribute to her, Mom. All I did was make a fool of myself.”

“I can’t imagine anyone at school thinking that. And if they do, then they’re made of stone.” Trisha’s mother fixed a cup of hot tea and set it in front of her. “Do you know what today is?” she asked.

Trisha shook her head.

“It’s Friday. You’re supposed to have your stitches removed today.”

“The accident happened a week ago,” Trisha said. She remembered Abby’s words: “a year of firsts.” This was the end of the first week since Christina had died.

“And you’ll never have to go through this week again. It’s behind you. You made it through.”

Yes, she had, but at the moment, it was cold comfort.

“Tell you what,” her mother said, picking up the phone. “I’m going to call and see if I
can’t move your appointment up, and if I can, afterward I’ll take you into Charlene’s for a total makeover. New haircut, manicure, the works. What do you say?”

Trisha didn’t think much of the idea, but her mother was trying so hard to cheer her up that she knew she couldn’t refuse her offer. “Fine,” she said with little enthusiasm.

Their family doctor checked Trisha over and removed the stitches in her head. “You look good,” he said. “The knee’s going to take some more pampering, but considering what your body’s been through, you’re doing amazingly well.”

Better than Cody
, she thought. “So when can I lose the crutch?”

“When you can put weight on the leg without your knee hurting, you can chuck it. Maybe in a week or so.” He peered at her over the tops of his glasses, his expression turning fatherly. “And the next time you get in a car with your friends, put your seat belt on.”

The hair salon, Charlene’s, made a fuss over Trisha when she arrived. The stylist set to work giving her a trendy cut to cover the shaved spot on her head. “I was letting it grow
long,” Trisha said while the stylist snipped and trimmed.

“By this summer, it’ll be long again. It’s hair. Hair grows.” The woman flashed a smile in the mirror where Trisha watched her transformation. She thought of all the times she and Christina had pored through magazines studying hairstyles, laughing and experimenting with gels, creams, and temporary color. She remembered the time Christina put a blond rinse in her hair, which turned it pink.
“I look like a troll,”
Christina had wailed. Trisha had come to her rescue by helping her recolor it brown, though it took many weeks to finally return to its natural shade of honey blond.

Trisha’s mother spared no expense, and by the time they left the salon, Trisha’s hair looked perfect, her nails were buffed and trimmed, and she had a new concealer that artfully hid the bruising under her eye and along her cheek. She felt better too.

Around five, they pulled into the driveway. Her mother had no sooner turned off the engine than Charlie came running out the front door. “Boy, am I glad you’re home!” he shouted. His cheeks were flushed and he looked ready to explode.

“Slow down. What’s wrong?” asked Trisha’s mother.

“Nothing’s wrong!” He grabbed Trisha’s arm. “Cody’s mother called. Cody woke up.”

Gwyn’s message had been on the answering machine when Charlie got home from school, he said. Trisha and her mother didn’t even stop to call the hospital, they just got in the car and headed into Chicago. If the car could have sprouted wings, it wouldn’t have gotten to the hospital fast enough to suit Trisha. Once there, she hurried to the elevator and, with her heart pounding, rode it to the tenth floor.

Just as she came down the hall, she saw Gwyn step out of Cody’s room. Heedless of the hospital’s rules about silence, she called, “Mrs. McGuire! How is he? Charlie said Cody’s awake.”

Gwyn looked tired, but she was smiling. “He opened his eyes around noon. I was sitting next to his bed and reading. He just said, ‘Hi,’ clear as you please.”

By now Trisha’s mother, who had parked the car after leaving Trisha at the entrance, had caught up with Trisha. “We’re so happy to hear
the good news about Cody,” she said with a beaming smile.

“Can I go in?” Trisha asked.

“You should know some things first,” Gwyn said, her expression growing serious. “He’s different—not quite himself yet.”

“That’s okay. He’s been through a lot. I won’t stay long.” Trisha recalled how hard it had been for her to concentrate during the past week. She understood that Cody might be having problems too.

She started inside the room. Gwyn caught her arm. “We should talk. His memory—”

“Please, can we talk later? All I want right now is to see him.” Trisha had grown increasingly impatient. She didn’t want to stand in the hall discussing Cody. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him how happy she was that he was awake. She wanted to tell him how much she’d missed him and how scared she’d been for his life.

Trisha eased out of Gwyn’s hold and went into the room. The top half of the mechanical bed had been raised and Cody was sitting up, eating a dish of ice cream. “Cody!” she cried. Moisture filled her eyes, and for the first time in days, she shed tears of joy.

He looked startled. She wished he didn’t have to see her with a crutch. “Hi,” she said, reaching out to touch him.

He drew back, his eyes wary, clouded, an expression of bewilderment on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost a monotone.

“Do I know you?”

Twelve
 

“C
ody, don’t kid around. It’s not funny,” Trisha said. She propped her crutch against the wall and opened her arms. “Don’t you know how worried I’ve been about you?” He looked past her. “Mom? Mother?” Gwyn was by his side instantly. “Cody, this is Trisha. She’s a friend from school.” Her voice sounded soft, soothing, as if she were explaining something complex to a frightened child. She warned Trisha with her gaze to play along.

“I—I don’t remember.” Cody looked more confused.

The implications of the situation hit Trisha hard and fast. The coma had affected his memory.

Cody looked back at Trisha shyly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to …” His sentence trailed off as if he’d lost interest in it. Once again his voice didn’t sound normal to her.

Trisha took a step backward. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have barged in on you.”

She got out of the room as fast as she could and leaned into the wall in the corridor for support, numb with shock. “What happened?” her mother asked.

“He didn’t know me.”

“What? How can that be?”

Gwyn appeared. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you went into the room. The coma’s left Cody with some amnesia. His doctor says memory loss happens sometimes. Usually it’s temporary. His brain’s had a terrible trauma, and it may take some time before he’s completely himself again.”

“Does he remember anything?” Trisha’s mother asked.

“He thinks he’s still in middle school.”

“But that was
years
ago,” Trisha said. No wonder he didn’t remember her. They’d only started dating in high school.

“But he
will
improve,” Trisha’s mother said hopefully.

“We hope so.” Gwyn wrung her hands. “But there’s also the possibility that he’ll experience some personality changes.”

“Meaning?” Trisha asked.

“We don’t know yet. We just have to take it one day at a time.”

“And his voice?”

“Yes. I know it sounds like a monotone. That’s also a side effect of the coma. However, his doctor says he’ll begin to sound more normal as he hears others talk. Just like a baby learns to imitate by hearing others.”

Trisha was reeling from what she was hearing. “So I guess you don’t have to worry about telling him about Christina. He doesn’t even know she existed.”