When Sparks Fly

“They’re worried about her leg. It’s the same one that was injured before. It was pinned. They’re hopeful.” Harley’s eyes are haunted, her chin trembling. She was only twelve when her parents died in that car accident. Young enough to still need her mom and old enough to understand what she didn’t have anymore, and never would.

“Hopeful.” I sit in one of the chairs and run my hands through my hair, gripping it at the crown. My vision goes blurry. “She has to be okay. She has to be whole.” I can’t even begin to consider what it would be like for Avery to lose a limb. She’s forever seeking adventure. She’s the first to say yes to the riskiest things, like mountain climbing, or biking down the side of an actual mountain. The things we do for fun are things people would do maybe once in their lifetime. She’s fierce and effervescent and full of life.

Except right now, she’s in surgery and we don’t know what the extent of the damage is going to be.

“What about head injuries?” My voice is rough like a freshly paved gravel road.

“Other than bruising and swelling from the airbag deploying, they don’t think there’s any damage there.”

“Thank God.” I can handle Avery and physical injuries, but I need to know that her beautiful, amazing mind isn’t going to be altered after this.

While we wait, I text our college friends that we were supposed to meet up with for the game and give them an abbreviated version of what happened and tell them I’ll update them when I know more. I call Jerome and Mark to tell them what happened. I feel numb as I repeat the same information twice. And twice I get the question: Wasn’t I supposed to be with her? Because the guys didn’t want to go out, they left before I went to the bar. I messaged a friend from work and met him there, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to go for one drink. Which turned into several drinks and some very bad decision-making.

Twice I’m met with silence after I explain what happened. The heavy kind that’s filled with unanswered questions. And I realize that if something really bad does happen to Avery, I might stand to lose a lot more than her friendship. I might lose everything that’s important to me. Her being at the top of that list.

7

I NEED A VACATION FROM MY LIFE

AVERY

I hurt in ways that don’t make sense. It feels like I ran a marathon and then got into a boxing ring. And lost. Every part of me aches, and at the same time I feel heavy, like I’m pinned underwater, but still able to breathe.

I open my eyes, the smells and sounds unfamiliar. I blink a few times, adjusting to the dimly lit room that is most definitely not mine. I try to move, but it makes white and black spots appear in my vision. I suck in a gasping breath as pain radiates through my entire body, making it impossible to do anything but fight to breathe through it.

Once the agony settles back into a nearly unbearable ache, I slowly, carefully take a look around the room. One crucial thing becomes clear as I process the visual information accompanied by the repetitive, rhythmic beeping: I’m in the hospital and I’m very badly hurt.

Panic sets in, the kind I haven’t experienced in a decade. The same kind of panic I felt when I came downstairs after a fitful night’s sleep and found Gran sitting in the middle of the formal living room on the couch that only adults used when there was a big event of some kind. Her hands were folded in her lap, white fabric peeking out, my grandpa’s initials embroidered in one corner.

Despite the fact that he’d been gone for years, she’d kept his handkerchiefs. As I got older I recognized that she only brought them out on special days: her birthday, his, their anniversary, the anniversary of his death.

That morning the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I’d wanted desperately to turn around and run. I didn’t know where, but I did know that I wanted to disappear. To go anywhere else. To escape something I couldn’t see, but could feel.

She’d patted the spot beside her, and her expression told me that this gesture, this allowing me to sit on the sofa reserved for adults wasn’t something I wanted. But I sat beside her anyway.

She’d put her arm around me and hugged me. An apology fell from her lips, she murmured it like a mantra until she finally pulled away.

And told me my parents had been in an accident.

That they were gone.

I remembered the way I’d carelessly hugged them before they’d headed out for the night. I remembered the smell of my mom’s perfume, the scent of my dad’s cologne. His rough cheek against mine when he’d told me to watch Harley and make sure she didn’t eat an entire bag of cookies before dinner. I remembered his wink and his smile.