After

by Kristin Harmel

  Slowly, I made my way up the shallow hill until I could see my father’s headstone emerge from the darkness. A moment later, I stood in front of it, gazing down for the second time today at his name, the year of his birth, the year of his death. My knees suddenly felt weak, and I reached for the headstone to steady myself.

  “Hi,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. In fact, it took me several seconds to register that the voice was mine, that I had spoken the words aloud instead of just thinking them. I took a deep breath and repeated the words a little louder. “I’m sorry,” I began again, “for not always being a very good daughter. I’m sorry for all the fights we had. I’m sorry for the times you told me I was being a brat and you were right. I’m sorry for the times I yelled at you that I hated you. I never meant it. Not once. I wish I could take them all back.”

  My knees were growing weaker; my legs felt like jelly. My hand still on the headstone, I eased myself down on the dead grass. The rain had left the ground damp, and I could feel it seep through my sweatpants almost immediately. But I didn’t care.

  “I’m sorry for that morning,” I went on. “I’m sorry I took so long getting ready, just to bug Logan. I’m sorry I took my time coming downstairs. I’m sorry I thought that was funny. I’m sorry I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

  My heart was pounding quickly now, and that familiar icy feeling was back. But still no tears. “I’m sorry that I didn’t look up sooner. I’m sorry that I saw the SUV but didn’t say anything. I didn’t have time, but I should have. I should have thought more quickly. I’m sorry I blacked out. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold your hand. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

  I felt short of breath. The words were coming faster, piling out on top of each other. “I’m sorry it was you and not me.” I heard myself say the words, and they surprised me even as they came out of my mouth. I hadn’t known I’d felt that way until that very moment. I hadn’t let myself think about it. But if I’d been just a second faster, if I’d snapped my seat belt right away instead of giving Logan a hard time, if I’d spent one less stupid second in the bathroom making sure my lipstick was just right, then we would have been several inches farther along the road, and the car would have missed Dad and plowed into me in the backseat instead.

  Maybe that was the way it was supposed to happen. Maybe I had cheated fate.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t done better,” I went on. The more things I apologized for, the more miserable I felt. “I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job of taking care of everyone. I don’t know how, sometimes, Daddy. It’s really hard. But I know it’s what I have to do. I know I have to do that for you. And I’m sorry I haven’t done better. I promise to try harder.”

  I sat there, staring at his headstone. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. But there was only silence.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I leaned forward and felt the cold marble of the headstone on my forehead. The cold was cutting into me now, but I didn’t care. I fervently hoped that somewhere, my dad could hear me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  I repeated the words, again and again, until the pain in my chest was so great that I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t feel my dad’s presence. Not at all. I realized I was talking to myself.

  I stood up, cleared my throat, and touched the gravestone once more. I dusted what dirt I could off my sweats and, with one last, long glance, turned away.

  • • •

  I walked toward the parking lot and saw a vehicle parked in the far corner of the lot, in the shadows. Who would be here this late? My heart hammered and I reached for the phone in my pocket. I shouldn’t have come here. What if I had gotten myself into a dangerous situation?

  And then, as I tentatively walked closer, I suddenly recognized it. And the person leaning against it, watching me approach.

  Sam straightened up and began walking toward me at the exact instant I realized it was him.

  “Hi,” he said as we approached each other.

  “Hi,” I said, staring up at him as the distance between us closed. We were standing face to face, under a dim puddle of light from a flickering streetlight. “What are you doing here?”

  “I went to your house, and your mom said you’d gone for a run,” he said.

  “But how did you know I’d come here?”

  “I couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d go. Not today, anyhow.”

  “Oh” was all I could manage. There was something about realizing how well he knew me that made my stomach flip. We stared at each other for a moment. Then I asked, “Did you rake the leaves in my yard this morning?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Why?”

  He looked a little embarrassed. “It was important to you. It was a memory you had with your dad.”

  “You can’t bring him back, you know.” My voice sounded angry, and I wasn’t sure why I was directing any of that toward Sam. But my stomach was all tied up in knots. “Just by raking leaves. He’s gone.”

  “I know.”

  I looked away. “It’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair?”

  I swallowed hard. “Your dad loved you enough to stay. My dad … didn’t. And sometimes I hate him for it.”

  There. I had finally shown Sam the last of the cards I had kept so close to my chest, the cards I hadn’t even known were there. How could I hate my father, even a little bit? Surely it made me the worst person in the world. And now I’d shown Sam just what a despicable human being I really was.

  He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

  I was startled, but I finally let myself relax into the embrace. I tentatively wrapped my arms around him and returned the hug. He responded by holding me tighter, like he would never let go.

  “It’s going to be all right, you know,” he whispered, ruffling my hair with his breath.

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was wrong, but before I could even get a syllable out, he had put his hand gently over my mouth.

  “Stop, Lacey,” he said. “Stop always having to be so tough. Just have some faith.”

  “Sam,” I said after a minute, “I still haven’t seen a rainbow.” I paused and added, “I’ve looked.”

  Sam stroked my hair. “Maybe you haven’t really needed your dad yet,” he said. “You know, it’s okay to hate him a little. He did leave you, even if he never would have wanted to, Lacey. But it made life hard for you. Life is still hard for you. He’d understand.”

  “How can I feel like that and still love him so much?” I asked in a small voice.

  Sam was silent. “I think,” he said, “that’s exactly what love is.”

  Sam’s words, and the fact that he was finally absolving me of everything while he held me tight, made something inside me snap. I didn’t even know it had happened until I felt the first tear roll down my right cheek, followed soon after by a single tear from the other eye. And then, they were coming like a deluge, one after another, tears falling from eyes that had been dry for a year.

  “You’re crying,” Sam said, leaning back. He looked concerned. He reached in to gently wipe a tear away.

  “I know,” I said. I reached up and touched my cheek. “I know.” And for the first time that day, I smiled.

  We stood in the middle of the cemetery parking lot for a long time, under the glow of the flickering light, enveloped in a dark silence. But I’d never felt so safe in all my life. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go back to reality.

  And then, my cell phone rang, a sharp jangle that invited reality back in.

  The spell was broken. I looked at Sam as I pulled away. I looked at the caller ID. Mom’s Cell. I didn’t know why she’d be calling from her cell instead of the home phone, but I knew she was probably wondering where I was.

  I snapped my phone open. “Hello?”

  “Lacey?” Her voice sounded frantic. I felt immediately bad.

  “Mom, don’t worry; I’m fin
e,” I said quickly. “Sam’s here with me, and—”

  She cut me off. “It’s Logan. There’s been an accident. He’s at the hospital. I need you to come right away.”

  chapter 22

  We got to Plymouth Regional Hospital’s emergency room in record time. Sam dropped me off near the ambulance bay and promised to be inside as soon as he parked. I dashed inside and wildly scanned the waiting room for my family.

  I spotted them immediately. Mom was standing in the corner, looking disheveled, and Tanner was sitting in a chair, his head down, mumbling to himself. Sydney was standing several yards away, her face tear-streaked.

  “What happened? Is he okay?” I demanded, running up to them. All three of them looked up. “Please!” I snapped. “Is he okay? Tell me!”

  “I don’t know,” Mom said. She appeared exhausted. “He’s in surgery now. The doctors will be out to talk to us as soon as he’s done.”

  I stared at her. My whole body felt cold. Surgery. Doctors. An accident. It was all so familiar.

  “What happened?” Just then, Sam came through the doors of the waiting room and jogged over to me. I introduced him to my mom, who nodded vaguely. I glanced down at Tanner and realized that he had reverted to sucking his thumb, something I hadn’t seen him do since those dark weeks after Dad died. “What happened, Mom?”

  “Apparently, Logan was drinking,” she said in a tight voice. “With Sydney.” She glared at Sydney, who seemed to shrink under her gaze. “He took the keys to Sydney’s car,” Mom continued through gritted teeth, “and went out to drive around the neighborhood. To find the spot of your accident with Dad.”

  I felt tears in my eyes.

  “He didn’t come back for a while,” Sydney cut in, glancing nervously back and forth between me and my mom. “So finally, I got worried and took my dad’s car out to look for him. I found him on Old Port Road. You know, the one by the harbor that curves? I guess he took the turn too fast and hit a telephone pole.”

  Mom made a muffled sound and turned away. I sucked in a deep breath. Tanner curled up on the seat and closed his eyes, sucking his thumb more furiously now. Sam wrapped both of his arms tightly around me and squeezed.

  “The police were already there,” Sydney continued. “And the ambulances. They were just taking him away on a stretcher. That’s when I called your mom.”

  “Did you see him?” I demanded. “As they were taking him away?”

  I wanted to ask her if he had been conscious, if there had been blood, how he had looked. But she just shook her head. “They were already shutting the doors to the ambulance. I only knew it was him ’cause of the car. It’s totally ruined. My parents are going to kill me.”

  In this moment, with my brother lying somewhere behind closed doors and possibly dying, she was worrying about her car? I wanted to wring her perky little neck with my bare hands. But Sam held on to me and murmured in my ear, “It’s not worth it.”

  He was right. But I’d never hated someone quite as much as I hated Sydney right then.

  An hour passed without any word. My mom paced for a while, then sat down, chewing so hard on her lower lip that it started to bleed. She didn’t even seem to notice. Tanner’s eyes glazed over as he continued rocking back and forth, sucking his thumb. Sydney sat several seats away from us, alternately staring at the wall and texting on her phone. The whole time Sam sat next to me, rubbing my back gently and occasionally whispering things like, “It’s going to be okay, Lacey.”

  His words weren’t much comfort. But his being there was. At least a little bit.

  Finally, a doctor in pale blue scrubs came out of the swinging doors leading to the operating room. “Mrs. Mann?” he asked, scanning the waiting room.

  My mom jumped up immediately. “Yes, that’s me,” she said. “I’m here. How is he?”

  I was on my feet before I knew it, standing at Mom’s side. Sam appeared behind me a second later. Tanner stood up and grabbed my hand. Sydney just sat there, staring nervously.

  The doctor glanced around at our little group. “Logan’s a very lucky young man,” he said. “He’s going to be fine.”

  I didn’t think I’d ever felt so relieved in my entire life. My knees buckled a little, but Sam was there to catch me.

  “He is?” Mom demanded, almost as if she didn’t believe it. “Are you sure?”

  The doctor still looked concerned. “Yes,” he said slowly. “He suffered a concussion and several broken bones, but it appears his internal injuries are minimal, aside from the trauma to his liver. He should make a full recovery.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Mom breathed. I could see tears glistening in her eyes as she turned to me and smiled. I could feel the tears in my own eyes too.

  But the doctor didn’t look as happy as we did. “Mrs. Mann,” he said slowly. “It seems to me that we have a difficult situation here.”

  “What?” my mom asked, sniffling a little.

  He cleared his throat. “Your son’s blood alcohol level is quite high. I asked him some questions, as did the police, and it seems that this isn’t the first time he has gone overboard with drinking.”

  “What?” My mom looked at the doctor blankly.

  The doctor cleared his throat again. “I suspect he will have to deal with the legal ramifications of this incident. I need to strongly recommend that you get him into some sort of rehab program.”

  “Rehab?” my mother whispered.

  “He’s a minor, Mrs. Mann. This is extremely serious. He’s very lucky that no one besides himself was hurt.”

  She looked down. “Today’s the anniversary of his father’s death,” she said. “I don’t know if he told you that.”

  “Ah,” the doctor said. For the first time, he looked a bit sympathetic instead of judgmental. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Was it long ago?”

  “A year ago today,” my mother whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “But this is a wake-up call, Mrs. Mann. Your son needs help.”

  I could feel my face flaming. I’d known my brother drank. I hadn’t done anything to stop it. And he had almost gotten himself killed.

  As if reading my mind, Sam leaned down and whispered softly in my ear, “Don’t you dare go blaming yourself, Lacey Mann. You are not responsible for Logan. He did this on his own.”

  “But—” I started to whisper back.

  “Not your fault,” Sam said in a tone that left no room for argument.

  The doctor was saying something to my mom about how Logan was under anesthesia and was a little groggy but could talk to her if she wanted to go in. The rest of us would have to wait until visiting hours tomorrow.

  “After you see him,” the doctor said, “the police will want to interview you. And I’d like to recommend a few rehab centers to you before Logan is released.”

  “Okay,” she said in a small voice.

  When the doctor disappeared, my mother crumpled to the floor. It was as if all her bones suddenly turned to jelly. “My God, my God, my God,” she was murmuring to herself. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to stop him.”

  “My God, Lacey,” she said. “It’s not your responsibility. When did it start being your responsibility?”

  “But—”

  “Lacey, you’re sixteen,” she said. “You’re not in charge of your brother’s actions. It’s my fault. I should have known.”

  I tried to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. But the words fell on deaf ears. Tanner hopped up from his chair and joined me and Mom on the floor. He put his arms around both of us, and the three of us sat there in a messy, crying heap.

  “It’s not anyone’s fault,” he said. My mom and I both looked at him. Mom sniffled. “You can only do your best. And you can either get upset about the past, or just plan on doing things differently in the future. That’s what the Crocodile Hunter said, anyhow. In a show I used to watch.”


  “Thanks, Tanner,” my mom said.

  He shrugged and put his hands in his pocket. “Whatever.”

  • • •

  Sydney’s parents came to pick her up a little while later. To their credit, they didn’t say one word about the car. Mom decided to stay at the hospital overnight. Sam offered to drive me and Tanner home, and my mom gratefully accepted.

  Sam walked us to the door, and after I unlocked it and watched Tanner disappear into the house, Sam pulled me into a long embrace on the doorstep.

  “Lacey, I don’t know if this is the right time to say this,” he said, “but I’d really like it if maybe you’d come meet my dad sometime.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “I mean, he’s not himself,” Sam continued. “He can’t move one whole side of his body. And sometimes I feel like he doesn’t even remember me. But he’s still my dad.”

  I swallowed hard. I thought of all the things I’d said to Sam, all the selfish, warring emotions I’d felt over his father coming out of his coma. I thought about how I’d never see my dad again and about how lucky I was to not have lost my brother, too. I thought about what Tanner had said about how you couldn’t live in the past and how you had to do things differently in the future.

  Finally, I smiled. “I’d like that,” I said.

  “Good,” Sam said, smiling back at me. Then he kissed me goodnight.

  • • •

  My cell phone rang early the next morning, jolting me awake. I glanced at the clock as I dove for the phone: 6:55. My blood ran cold. Was it my mom, calling with bad news about Logan?

  “Hello?” I answered breathlessly.

  “Lacey?” It was Sam, and he sounded concerned.

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. “I was afraid it was my mom and something was wrong with Logan.”

  “Oh jeez, I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  I smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “Can you go to the window?”

  I sat up in bed. “What?”