Zach was now less than five yards away from me, his eyes were downcast and I knew he would roll by without seeing me. My tongue moved to call out to him but my brain refused to send it the signal.
Two yards away. I could now hear the words of the nurse. She was talking about some television show. A soap opera. Poor Zach.
One yard away and I knew I was going to let him roll by without a word. It was a chicken move. I was like the heroine in a movie who everyone hated. I had balls of steel when it came to fighting but I was like a scared kitten when I was confronted with my past.
The chair was now even with me. Maybe it was his nurse's greeting to me as she went to pass or maybe he just knew. At the last second he lifted his head. His hands reached out with a quickness that surprised both his nurse and me as he stopped the chair. His eyes clashed with mine and I saw he was plagued by demons also.
I'm not sure what I'd been expecting when I spied his downcast head. Maybe defeat. His eyes were not defeated though, they were oceans of torment. Zach's demons were much worse than my own.
"Zach, you need to warn me when you want to stop," his nurse chastised, picking up her water bottle that had fallen.
"Leave," Zach growled, not even looking at her.
"What?" she stammered. She looked at me, trying to figure out my importance to her patient.
"Go. I can make it home on my own." he stated, keeping his hands on the wheels.
"Your mother…" she stuttered.
"My mother knows how I feel about having a caregiver. I will deal with her," he clipped out, not sounding at all like the Zach I once knew.
She looked unsure so I gave her a nod to indicate I would make sure he got home.
Zach maneuvered his chair so he was on the grass under the tree where I stood. I watched as his arms strained to get the chair into place. I took a small step forward to help him but his glare stopped me in my tracks. It was clear he wanted to do this on his own. I stood idly by, feeling out of place. I should have left when I had a chance. Zach was a flashing reminder of the accident. He was the one who deserved all the blood money we'd gotten. There was a time I'd been angry at him. Furious at the part he'd played in the accident. I'd rationalized that Dan would still be alive if Zach wasn't driving, but that reasoning couldn't have been further from the truth. The accident wasn't Zach's fault. He used to be annoyingly safe. Insisting we all buckle up before he would even start his old Suburban. Blaming Zach wasn't the answer.
"What are you doing?" he finally asked when his chair was off the path.
"Is that a metaphorical question?" I countered.
"Why are you here at this park?" he emphasized the word.
"Painting," I said, stating the obvious.
"I heard you wanted nothing to do with us," he bit out, glaring at me.
I sucked in a breath. Mackenzie had told him about my visit. I was surprised, considering she was shacking up with another guy. His eyes widened with shock when I said as much. I didn't blame him. My words were cruel. Nothing like kicking a man when he was down.
He surprised me again by barking out a harsh laugh. "You know about Mackenzie's EMT?"
Knife to the heart. EMT. An EMT had pronounced Dan dead while I dangled upside down in my seat. An EMT had pulled me away before I could reach for Dan. That EMT ignored my pleas that eventually changed to screams of rage as I fought to get back to Dan. I needed to touch him at least one more time, but they'd whisked me away from him. They'd taken the decision out of my hands and had given me a shot that made the world disappear around me. By the time I woke it was too late. His parents opted for a closed casket because of the damage to his face. I pleaded with them to let me see him before they laid him to rest, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Everyone was convinced my grief was dictating my pleas.
"Man, I thought I was the one who was seriously fucked up, but I got nothing on you," Zach said, watching the play of emotions on my face. "Shouldn't you be over it all by now?"
It took me a minute to pull myself away from the memory and register his words were meant to hurt. He wanted me to bleed. He had no idea the buckets of blood I'd bled over the last two years. My organs had drowned in the blood. His words barely nicked a vein. "Please, you're way more fucked up than me," I said. My knees shook, betraying my words. They quaked like I'd just finished a ten-mile run. "You can't even go to a park without a babysitter." Take that knife. It was a duel of words. More deadly than actual swords.
He glared at me. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember you being such a selfish bitch."
Slice across the face.
I laughed without humor. "Selfish?" I sputtered. "Did you suffer brain damage also? It's called survival."
His shoulders slumped at my words. "Yeah, I get that. You still miss him?"
"Until the day I die," I said. "At times I wish I would have died too. I think I should have. I don't think our hearts are rightfully equipped to handle certain losses." It was the most candid I'd been since the accident.
"Yeah, I wished for death for a long time," Zach said, pounding a fist against his useless legs.
"At least you had Mackenzie," I said without thinking. Selfish bitch strikes again. I slapped a hand across my mouth, but the words were already out there. "I'm sorry. I forgot. She's a bitch for leaving you. Dan could have been a paraplegic and I wouldn't have left him."