Why Did She Have to Die?

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “Oh, I don’t know, Russ . . . ,” Kathy started.

  Elly stared straight ahead, wishing she could slip between the cracks in the seat. Up ahead, right in front of them, Elly saw a little girl wobbling unsteadily on a bicycle. Elly remembered her first experience on a bike without training wheels. She’d been determined to ride on two wheels, like Kathy. Her father had cheered her on despite her many spills.

  The little girl didn’t seem to see the car, and Russ was concentrating on Kathy. For a brief moment, Elly thought the girl would get out of the way before the car came any closer. But she wobbled even more. Time seemed to freeze. Everything around Elly seemed as if it were moving in slow motion. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  Someone in the car—was it her?—shouted, “Look out!” At the last second, Russ saw the little girl. Elly braced herself as he hit the brakes. He whipped the steering wheel to avoid the girl, and the car responded as if it had been shot from a sling.

  Elly saw a blur of motion as a lamppost loomed next to the passenger side. She heard a crunching, shattering sound, felt the impact of metal against metal, smelled the odor of burned rubber. She heard a scream, and the world flipped around her in a skidding circle. A wrenching twist of pain burned along her side. A numbing sensation shot down her leg. Finally, she fell forward into a pit of welcoming blackness.

  FIVE

  Elly floated in a gray fog. The sensation was not unpleasant. She felt buoyed on an ocean of air, cushioned and safe. She heard sounds—sirens, voices, grinding, and the shearing of metal. She drew back from the annoying sounds into the wonderful, quiet cloud of gray.

  As she swirled through the darkness, she felt a pinpoint of light flash deep inside her eye that made her wince. She smelled the sharp bite of alcohol. She felt hands lifting her. Something rubbery slid over her mouth and nose. Elly slipped deeper into the fog.

  Elly saw a darkened room split by a brilliant white spotlight. Inside the circle of light, Kathy danced. Elly watched, fascinated, as her sister, dressed in a gown of billowing white gauze, twirled and spun in slow, graceful spirals. Elly heard no music.

  She tried to move closer to Kathy, but every step she took made Kathy spin farther away across the stage. Elly struggled to call out Kathy’s name, but her voice wouldn’t work. She waved, but Kathy’s eyes were closed as she danced to the silent music. Elly reached out, fighting against the unknown force that pushed her away from her dancing sister. Wait! her mind cried. Kathy, please wait! The spotlight began to shrink and with it, so did Kathy, melting into the darkness.

  From far away, Elly heard someone calling her name. Over and over, the voice called to her. Pulled in two directions—one way by her sister’s disappearing shape and the other way by the pull of the voice—Elly hesitated. Then slowly, the voice began to draw her toward it.

  “Elly! Elly! It’s Mom and Dad, honey. Wake up, Elly.”

  Elly floated out of the fog. The stage disappeared, and she opened her eyes to see a hospital room. The first thing she saw was her parents’ anxious faces. The first thing she felt was pain. Elly moaned, longing to return to the quiet sea of gray.

  “Oh, honey. Honey, . . . look at us,” Mrs. Rowan begged.

  “Don’t go back to sleep, baby girl,” her father whispered.

  Baby girl. Her father hadn’t called her that since she’d been five years old and in the hospital with pneumonia.

  “My—my head hurts.” Her whispered words sounded like a croak.

  Her mother smoothed Elly’s forehead, which was covered in bandages. “I know it does. But you’re going to be all right. You’ve come back to us, and you’re going to be all right.”

  Elly heard heaviness in her mother’s voice. Back? she wondered. Back from where?

  “What happened?” Elly tried to move, but her arms felt heavy. For the first time, she noticed that her leg was covered in white plaster and was suspended from a system of pulleys. Tubes and needles ran into her right arm. An inverted bag of clear liquid hung from a metal stand next to her bed.

  “You were in a bad car accident. Do you remember it?”

  Elly reached through fuzzy layers of memory. She recalled green eyes, gray-colored auto upholstery, the lush cascade of Kathy’s hair. She remembered a little girl on a bike, the lamppost rushing toward her side, the sound of metal against metal. Elly squeezed her eyes closed to block out the pictures. “Yes. I remember.”

  “You have a concussion and a badly broken leg. The doctors operated on your leg and put special pins in it. But it will be okay.”

  Operated? Elly struggled to ask the questions that were tumbling in her mind. “How long . . . ?”

  “You’ve been unconscious for a week,” Mr. Rowan said. His voice cracked.

  A week? Elly didn’t believe it! “A whole week? But what about school?”

  Mr. Rowan caressed her cheek. His big hand caught in the strands of her hair. “It was a way for your mind and body to rest. To recover. The doctors said you’d wake up. Just like Sleeping Beauty.”

  She tried to smile at her father’s silly idea. She was no Sleeping Beauty. Kathy was the beauty. Elly’s strange dream came back to her. “How’s Kathy?”

  Mr. Rowan pulled away from Elly’s bedside, and Mrs. Rowan came closer. “Sh—she’s fine, honey.” Her mother’s voice sounded forced. Elly tried to focus on her mother’s face.

  “Can I see her?”

  “She’s in a different room.”

  “And Russ?”

  “He was treated and released.”

  “The girl on the bike?”

  “Just scared. The car missed her.”

  Elly sighed, relieved. “I—I’m sorry we went for a ride with him. It was wrong to go without your permission.”

  Mrs. Rowan shushed her and stroked her arm. “We’ll talk about it later, after you’ve had some sleep.”

  Grateful, Elly sighed. She was tired. She thought it was odd that she should be tired after sleeping for a whole week. “I would like to rest some more. Tell Kathy that I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll see her later.”

  Elly felt gentle waves of sleep come over her. She closed her eyes, but not before seeing her parents exchange a long look. They looked sad. It bothered her that she had made them unhappy.

  * * * *

  The next time Elly woke up, a nurse was taking her blood pressure. The tight band squeezed Elly’s upper arm. The nurse stared intently at the gauge. Noticing Elly’s eyes on her, the young woman brightened. “Good morning, Elly. How are you feeling today?”

  “Everything hurts. Where’re my mom and dad?”

  “They should be here soon. They’ve come every day to visit you since your accident.”

  Elly felt overwhelmed by the love she felt for her parents. Tears stung her eyes. “Will I really be all right?”

  The black-haired nurse patted her shoulder and unwrapped the blood pressure cuff. “Yes, you will. Now that you’re conscious, the doctor said we could remove the IVs and start feeding you real food. How does that sound?”

  Suddenly Elly was very hungry. “I’d like a hamburger and a vanilla milkshake.”

  The nurse laughed. “For breakfast?”

  “Well, . . . at least a milkshake.”

  “I’ll put in your order,” the nurse promised. She turned toward the door.

  “Wait,” Elly called. “Do you know my sister Kathy? Is she on this floor?”

  The nurse smiled, but she didn’t meet Elly’s eyes. “As soon as your parents get here, I’ll send them in. They’ll be glad you’re up to having a milkshake.”

  Elly watched her leave, puzzled by her strange response. Maybe Kathy was hurt worse than she was. Maybe she was still unconscious.

  Confused and afraid, Elly twisted toward the window. She was surprised to see the wide windowsill covered with vases of flowers and potted plants. Elly pulled herself up to read the cards and notes that were attached to them.

  “The nurse said you were awake.” Mrs. Rowan came int
o the room with a beaming smile.

  “Oh, Mom! Are all those for me?”

  “Every one of them. And your friends have flooded the phone lines with calls. This place will be glad to send you home. Then maybe things will get back to normal around here.”

  Home! For the first time, Elly thought about her house, her bedroom, her clothes. She eyed her cast. She doubted that any of her pants would fit over it. “How am I going to manage with this stupid thing?”

  “There’s a therapist on staff. She’ll be in today to teach you how to use crutches.”

  Elly wrinkled her nose. “How long do I have to wear it?”

  “Six weeks. Maybe eight.”

  “That’s forever!” Elly wailed. “I’ll have it on until school’s out.”

  The door opened again. Mr. Rowan entered. His flannel work shirt was tucked neatly into his jeans. “What’s all this complaining about?”

  Surprised to see him, Elly asked, “Daddy—how come you’re not at work?”

  “What? And not kiss my baby girl good morning? You’ve been asleep for a whole week, honey. I can work anytime.”

  Touched by her dad’s words, Elly blushed. Her dad wasn’t usually so sensitive, but he was acting pretty mushy toward Elly. She decided she must have really scared them by being unconscious for so long.

  Elly glanced from one parent to the other. They looked tense. Elly noticed that her mother kept twisting a tissue in her hands. Elly sensed that something was wrong. “I really am going to be all right?” she asked hesitantly.

  Mrs. Rowan patted Elly’s hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

  The emphasis on “you’re” made Elly’s heart begin to thud. “Mom. Dad. How’s Kathy?” Thoughts of her sister in a wheelchair sprang up in her mind.

  The Rowans exchanged nervous glances. Mrs. Rowan leaned closer. Mr. Rowan kept his gaze focused on a spot on Elly’s pillow.

  “How’s Kathy?” Elly asked again.

  “Honey. . .” Her mother’s voice sounded raspy. “We wanted to tell you together.”

  “She’s hurt really bad, isn’t she?” Elly blurted, fighting panic.

  “Elly, Kathy didn’t make it.”

  “Make it? Make what, Mom?”

  “Kathy died in the accident, honey. Kathy died.”

  SIX

  Time froze. Elly felt air come into her lungs. She saw sunlight slant through the blinds. It cast narrow shadows across the pots of pretty flowers. She stared at a crack in the corner of the wall. At last, she turned her attention back to her parents’ faces. Tears had pooled in her mother’s blue eyes. Her dad looked frightened and hurt.

  Elly said, “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true, Elly. I wish it weren’t, but it’s true.”

  “You’re lying!” Elly cried. “I saw her! I saw Kathy dancing.”

  “You were dreaming.”

  “No. I saw her.” Elly twisted her head on her pillow, trying to block out the horrible words her mother had spoken. She remembered Kathy’s strange and graceful dancing. “I tried to follow her—” A sob choked Elly’s trembling voice.

  “Take it easy, Elly. Your leg—” Mr. Rowan reached to stop the bobbing of the pulleys.

  “I don’t care about my leg!” A low cry ripped from Elly’s insides. Mrs. Rowan held Elly’s arms, making soothing sounds, patting her, and holding her. “It isn’t true. She’s my sister. The pretty one. The smart one.”

  “She was killed on impact,” her mother said. The words felt like hammer blows to Elly’s doubts, driving them out one by one. “We—we buried her four days ago.”

  “You put Kathy in a hole in the ground? You had her funeral without me?” Elly gasped. Her eyes widened. “How could you?!”

  Mr. Rowan grabbed Elly’s shoulders and shook her gently. “You were in a coma. They thought you might die, too. How could we lose both of you?”

  Tears streamed down Elly’s face. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Oh, Daddy. I’m so sorry.”

  He held Elly while she cried. Her tears soaked the front of his shirt. When her crying quieted, she smelled the clean fragrance of his clothing and felt his muscled arms around her. She remembered the photograph of her and Kathy swinging on his biceps. In her mind, she ripped the photo in half. All that remained was Elly. Silly, goofy Elly. Ordinary, slightly kooky, a-little-bit-sloppy Elly. Kathy’s kid sister. The only child of Mike and Helen Rowan.

  * * * *

  Elly went through the motions of the hospital routine. She met her doctor and listened while he explained about the pins in her leg and about the therapy that would help her walk “just fine” again. She ate the food the nurses brought and she met the therapist. She read her cards and get-well messages. Elly did all the things she was told to do. But from one small corner of her mind, she kept hearing: “Kathy’s dead. Your sister’s gone forever.”

  When her parents came that evening, they looked tired and strained. “We can take you home next week,” Mrs. Rowan told Elly.

  “I want to go home.”

  “You’ve got schoolwork waiting for you there. But in a few weeks, you can go back to classes. There aren’t too many weeks left in the year, but your teachers didn’t think this would set you back too far. You’re a good student.”

  “Yes. At school everybody can sign my cast.” Elly made small talk because she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t care if she ever went to school again.

  “Would you like a visit from Joy?”

  Elly picked at her blanket. “Yes. I think I would.”

  “She’s dying to see you.”

  Dying, Elly thought bitterly. What a funny choice of words.

  “I’ll tell her to come tomorrow evening,” her mother finished.

  The next day Elly tried to look forward to her friend’s visit, but deep down she dreaded it. All day, she fidgeted, wishing she didn’t have to see anybody. But at seven o’clock, Joy came. A bubble of dark curls framed her face and her eyes were wide, twice their normal size. “Hi, Elly.”

  “Hi, yourself.” The two girls stared at one another.

  “Gee, that’s some contraption on your leg.”

  “It looks worse than it is.”

  Joy glanced around the room. “Did you get my flowers?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Your mom says you can come home next week.”

  “Tell me about it, Joy.”

  A frown creased Joy’s face. “About what?”

  “My sister’s funeral.” Elly’s tone was flat. She hadn’t known she would ask Joy the question. Now that she had, she was determined to hear all about it.

  Joy stepped backward and stuttered. “Well, I—I d-don’t know.”

  “I know you went. Mom said the whole school went. You better tell me before I punch you.” Her threat seemed silly, with her leg suspended from pulleys, her body unable to move from the bed.

  Joy licked her lips nervously and glanced around the room. “I—I guess it would be okay.” She slid a chair next to the bed. “It was very sad.” Joy’s eyes filled with tears. Elly quietly handed her a tissue. “She had a pale blue casket with satin lining. And tons of flowers. I never saw so many flowers.”

  Elly felt detached, as if she were discussing a television show or a book, not her sister’s funeral. “Go on.”

  “She didn’t look real, you know. She looked like a wax doll. But she was still very beautiful. They put flowers in her hair.”

  “Like a garden in May,” Elly broke in. “The way she wanted to decorate for the dance. Kathy would have liked all the flowers.”

  Joy shrugged slowly. “They let us out of classes at school so we could all go to the service. The minister told us that Kathy was in a garden where the flowers always bloomed and never faded. It made us all feel better, knowing that she’d always have a garden to look at.”

  It made Elly feel better, too.

  “We all walked past her casket and put a daisy on top,” Joy whispered. “There must have been a hundred d
aisies. Later—at school—the student council voted to put a special plaque in Kathy’s memory in the trophy display case. Everybody liked Kathy. She was very popular.” Joy’s story stopped. The room hung heavy with silence.

  Elly put her arm over her eyes. “Thanks for coming by. And for telling me. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

  Joy rose. “I—I wish it hadn’t happened. Do you want me to give a message to any of the kids?”

  “No. I’ll be home soon. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.” Elly heard Joy shuffle out. She lay staring into space for a long time, without really thinking about anything. The fragrance of her bouquets filled the room. She wished someone would take the flowers away. The sweet, floral scents made her very sad.

  * * * *

  Elly worked with her physical therapist and learned to handle her crutches. She practiced until the muscles in her arms throbbed from supporting her weight. The nurses wrote their names in colorful letters on the cast, as did her family and Joy. When it was time to go home, Elly’s mother brought her a pair of jeans. The leg had been slit so that her cast would fit.

  “Very stylish,” her mother said.

  Elly hobbled to the side of the bed. She put on a blouse with pink flowers embroidered on it. “Can I go to school Monday?”

  “That’s only two days from now.”

  “I just don’t want to lie around the house. I’m sick of lying around.” Elly felt jittery. She wanted to go home, but she was dreading it, too. She pictured her house. What would it be like without Kathy there?

  “I’m fixing your favorite—spaghetti—tonight for dinner.”

  “Thanks.” Elly was packed and ready to leave. The nurse helped Elly into a wheelchair and rode with them down the elevator. Outside the sunlight was so bright that Elly shielded her eyes. It seemed impossible that she’d been cooped up inside for more than two weeks.

  She thought it would be hard to ride in a car again, but it wasn’t. Her mother drove carefully. She pulled into the driveway and helped Elly out, holding the crutches until Elly gained her balance. Elly noticed that the wooden porch needed painting and the screen door squeaked when it opened. Inside, the house looked the same. It smelled of tomato sauce and oregano.