Seven Days (25 page)

“Thank you.” I felt safe with her as she took my vitals. It helped that she looked the age my mom would’ve been if she were still alive. Not that my mother had ever been a comforting presence, it had just been a long time since I’d felt cared for by someone in a nurturing role.

“The doctor will be back during rounds, and then we’ll have to take you for some tests. Try to get some rest. I know that seems absurd, since you just woke up, but it’s the only way to get you healed up properly. I’m sure there will be a stampede of visitors soon,” she advised.

“Okay, Trudy,” I tried to smile as she left the room. A quick scan told me that I was alone with Britton. My sister bounced on her heels before rushing to my side when the door closed, hugging me carefully. She didn’t look much different from the last time I’d seen her, she was still covered in bruises and her right arm was in a sling, a cast peeking out from the fabric and there were stitches knitting together the skin at her hairline.

“Oh, Carrie,” she sobbed. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.” She sniffled and cried, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in her emotional display. I didn’t know if it was still the pain medication causing it, but I was numb trying to process everything that had happened.

“It’s okay,” I soothed. “I’m here, Brit. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

Over her shoulder, I could see that I was in a private room, which was deeply perplexing, since we didn’t have this kind of money. I paid for emergency coverage, so I knew much of my care would be covered, but I didn’t think private rooms qualified. The room seemed to be filled to the rafters with flowers, balloons and stuffed animals. A giant card stood in the corner by a door to a closet or a bathroom. It was as if the gift shop exploded in there. And even though the fact that I was definitely loved and cared for was clear, there was something missing from the room that was glaringly absent, and my heart sped at what it could mean.

Ryan wasn’t here. Had he ever been or had he decided to walk away after all?

Ryan

It had been eleven days since I’d seen the sun. Eleven days. 264 hours. 15,840 minutes. 950,400 seconds. The more I broke it down, the more it felt like it had been an eternity since I’d last seen the sparkle in her bright green eyes. Every morning I woke up in that hospital chair was another day I had to face without her. I hated every second of it.

The only things I had to hold onto were my memories. I still savored the drugged way she looked at me as I slid inside her for the first time. I’d never forget the first time I watched her ruby red tongue swipe over her perfect pink little bow shaped lips before they wrapped around my cock so tightly that I thought I would pass out from the pleasure she brought to me.

I mean, first and foremost, I was a guy. So, of course, I was going to mention the dirty stuff to start with. At the end of the day, though, the thing I really missed was her. The antiseptic hospital environment had stolen the lavender scent from her skin. Her hair had lost its shine thanks to the tubes that had been feeding her. All of the rounded flesh I’d worked so hard to create in just a week through regular meals and desserts were once again sharp corners.

Her laughter echoed in my head as I replayed my favorite parts of our trip. To be honest, it was more like a constant feedback loop of every moment I’d ever spent with her. I relieved minute after minute, second after second of our week together. I wanted her to wake up so that we could make even better memories, ones that involved our collective future. After this, I didn’t think I’d ever let her walk away from me again.

Unfortunately, I had a contract to honor, so I reported to my new job the day after she was shot. I’d spent the night in an uncomfortable chair next to her bed in the ICU. She’d been hooked up to a ventilator because she wasn’t stable enough for a surgery she desperately needed. It took all of my strength to leave her there, still in limbo, to go to work. Talk about the worst first day of school ever. I’d had bloodshot eyes and wrinkled clothes, but after I told my principal what had happened, no one said anything. They left me alone, knowing I was doing the best I could under the circumstances.

I’d told the paramedics and doctors that Carrie was my wife so that I could get treatment updates and didn’t get kicked out of her room after visiting hours. It was, literally, the only thing that kept me sane in the days that followed. Knowing I could call the hospital at any time and get the truth about her condition. The lie rolled off my tongue so easily, so quickly, that I didn’t stop to think about why I wanted a chance to make it a reality in the future.

At the time, there was no one around to refute my statement. The relief I felt when Britton woke up and didn’t rat me out for my lie either was immense. She just smiled at me in a way that told me she was happy for her sister, and that I wanted to stick around. If I hadn’t gotten the idea that no one had been there for these girls for the better part of the last decade from Carrie over our time together, Britton’s reaction to my devotion to her sister would’ve been a neon sign advertising the neglect they’d suffered. I would always be grateful to Britton for letting me play house while Carrie was under as well as what she did the night of the shooting.

Every time I thought about how close I’d come to not answering that phone call through my hurt and anger, I had to fight back my emotions. I relived that night over and over again every day as I waited for her to wake up. I’d already punched a hole in my drywall thinking about what might’ve happened if I had sent Britton’s call to voicemail that night. Carrie didn’t need me to cause any permanent damage to myself to pay for something that hadn’t happened. The desolation inside my heart as she told me she had to go was nothing compared to what I felt less than an hour later, seeing her on the floor, struggling to survive.

Watching Carrie drive away from me without even a backward glance was like a fucking knife being plunged into my heart, then twisted. She loved me, I knew she did. I could see it every time she fucking looked at me. So why couldn’t she trust me, trust in us, in what we had? I’d tried so hard to show her she could.

Fine. Fuck this shit. If she couldn’t—

I couldn’t even complete that thought because it wasn’t true. I expected her to give up a chance to get away from her ghosts for me, because I was locked into this town. Would I have done the same for her if the roles were reversed? I wanted to say yes, unequivocally, but I couldn’t say for sure. I knew what I’d left behind. I had no clue the monsters that hid in her closet.

Hanging my head, I started back toward my truck, wondering how I was going to be able to wake up tomorrow in my brand new life that suddenly wouldn’t include her. Fuck that, how was I even going to get to sleep tonight without her warmth beside me?

My phone started to ring in my pocket as I pulled out my keys. Britton’s name flashed on the screen and I wondered if Carrie was already home and had changed her mind. My fingers hesitated over the red button for half a second before hitting the green one. As soon as the call connected, I knew my instinct could not have been more wrong.

“
Help,” I heard from the voice on the other end. The gurgled breathing spurred me to action. I’d been three long strides from my truck, but I was there and had the door wrenched open before the ‘p’ sounded over the line.

“
Britton, where are you?” I asked, jumping behind the wheel of my truck and taking off in the direction I’d seen Carrie drive less than ten minutes earlier. Britton rattled off a labored address and I plugged it into the GPS right before she seemed to lose consciousness. I yelled, begged, and pleaded for her to wake up, I got no answer. I tried to listen for anything happening in the background, but all I heard was the pounding of what might’ve been footsteps. No voices, no yelling, not even the sound of an air conditioner kicking on.

Although the drive felt like it took hours, only several minutes passed before my GPS announced my arrival. I couldn’t believe this is where they lived. The first thing I notice as I approached the wide open door of the dilapidated trailer was the acrid scent of rapidly decomposing flesh courtesy of the Arizona heat and the stagnant air of the house, mixed with the pungently sweet smell of regurgitation. And then I saw her. The only other time I’d ever seen her eyes so wide with fear was the morning she’d woken up crying, sobbing uncontrollably, in Jerome.

She had her arms around a man who looked to be a year or two older than me, offering him soothing words and platitudes, including those three little words she’d almost said to me earlier. I would’ve walked away right then, thinking I’d been played all week if her eyes hadn’t flared in recognition of my presence in the doorway. Leaning further into the man I wanted to disembowel with my bare hands for even breathing her air, she mouthed, “GET HELP!” with exaggeration and her eyes slid to her right, trying to look at something beyond her field of vision. Shifting my eyes, I saw the source of the smell. An older man was lying cold and still on a broken down couch. His eyes and mouth were open, but no light, no sounds, no breathing echoed from his long dead body.

Ducking from the doorway, I dialed nine-one-one and proceeded to wait the longest eight minutes of my life for the cops to arrive sans fanfare. Considering their slow speed and the absence of lights and sirens, I had a feeling they made frequent trips to this trailer park, which made my heart ache even more for my girl. After explaining Britton’s call and what I witnessed, they ordered me back and entered the trailer. Not long after the two men disappeared into the house, the sound of gunfire shattered the quiet night and I was sprinting toward the door before I could register my actions.

One of the officers was calling for emergency services and I dropped to my knees beside her unconscious form. All I could see was the blood, seeping into the hideous orange shag carpet under her and spreading like a river. My heart seized in my chest as I watched the life flowing from her. Black seeped into the corners of my eyes and my vision blurred. My head started to spin, and then I saw it, the rise and fall of her chest from where she lay on her back. She was fucking breathing and I almost let out a happy sob. I just prayed that she didn’t stop.

I’d spent every night since then holding vigil at her bedside, usually with Britton sleeping in the chair on the other side of her bed. I couldn’t bring myself to leave, except to fulfill my obligation at a job I was starting to resent. I watched her pale face as she slept, begging her to come back to me, to fight. I prayed, occasionally using the time the nurse needed moments to check her over privately to light a candle for her in the hospital chapel. I knew she wasn’t religious, but I needed to depend on my faith being enough for both of us. Britton usually came with me, asking me to explain my actions so she could participate. She said she was willing to try anything to see her sister awake and whole again.

When I was able to sleep, all I saw was
her
, smiling, laughing, and telling me all of the things she hadn’t gotten a chance to say yet. My mind played tricks with me, letting me see what our future could be, the house we’d grow old in, the children we’d have by the truckload. I wanted all of it, but more than that, I just wanted her.

The first time I saw Carrie, she literally stole my breath. She was so beautiful. The loss and pain radiated from her in a way I felt into my bones. I wanted to pull her into my arms and guard her from the horrors of the world, but something told me that she knew all about them and could take care of herself.

When I came back the next day, I’d hoped that I’d find that I’d imagined how perfect she was. However, when she came around the corner in her adorable little uniform and proceeded to take a slow perusal of me, I knew I had to take a chance. I needed to find a way to spend time with this girl, alone, for as long as I could. Even after everything that had happened, I was so fucking grateful that she’d agreed to come with me and that I’d gotten to be with her, even for just a little while.

Looking at the clock in my classroom, I tried to do mental countdown for how many more minutes I had to talk before lunch. I couldn’t wait to call Britton and get an update. The doctor had lowered the dosage on the medication that was keeping her in limbo, hoping to help her heal faster. She’d almost bled out on the table and they’d had trouble finding the bullet that hadn’t exited her body. God willing, she would wake up sometime in the next few hours.

It was only the second week of school, so I was still lecturing on the parts of the cell. It was, admittedly, one of the most rote parts of the class. What our bodies were capable of always astounded me, and all of that started at the cellular level. Once we got beyond the basics, we would move on to the extraordinary. I just hoped to have my girl back before that happened, so I could give it my all.

The students had already mentally checked out, probably also counting down the seconds until the lunch bell rang, as I spouted terminology. I hadn’t wanted to be one of those boring teachers, but I’d spent the last eleven days sleep walking, so it was hard to muster any further enthusiasm. Every morning I tried, because I knew Carrie would want me to give it my best. Every evening, I’d declared that I’d failed. Tomorrow would be better, I was absolutely sure of that.

Five minutes before the bell rang, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was incredibly unprofessional to have my cell phone so accessible, while I was teaching, but leaving it in my tiny little office at the back of the classroom just wasn’t an option. Neither was waiting the four minutes and thirty-five seconds left in class. I had to check it, in spite of the snickers and taunts that went up in my classroom full of only the most
mature
sophomores. Insert eye roll here.