The Time Until

by Casey Ford

  I’m having a small panic attack.

  How pathetic. I’ve been bitching to everyone and anyone for the past week — almost — about wanting to see Sam and here I am having a panic attack inside her room. I haven’t even seen her yet.

  It’s sad and I know it.

  I try to move my arms in order to wheel myself out, but they won’t respond. No matter how hard I push, they won’t budge. My heart rate spikes. My breathing is erratic. I feel light headed. I start shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to calm down.

  If just being here does this to me, I can only imagine what will happen when I actually see her.

  I take a deep breath and my shaking slows. The pressure and tension start to melt away. Finally, my breathing returns to normal. I wheel my chair around the corner and stop dead.

  I was not expecting this when I entered the room. Though, honestly, I’m not sure I know what I was expecting. This is worse than I thought. I nearly broke down and cried without ever getting any closer to her.

  The Sam I used to know is dead and gone forever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  1 Year Ago (Age 19): May

  UCLA is a beautiful campus, if you actually have time to enjoy it. I don’t. I have to get to the library before it fills up so I can write my English paper. Then I have to hightail it over to my dorm room to study for the math test this afternoon. That’s not to mention the psych paper due next week that I have been avoiding.

  College life is great.

  I shouldn’t really complain, I wasn’t even sure I would graduate high school, let alone get into the same college as Sam. She never has to study and still gets perfect grades — mostly. I wish I had even an ounce of her brainpower. As it is, I have to work my ass off just to pass, but I’m fine with that — there’s nothing wrong with a little hard work.

  Now, if only I could figure out my major.

  “Watch out!” I instinctively duck when I hear that voice and command. Sam comes tripping toward me with way more boxes and rolls of paper than she can carry. Knowing her, she wanted to get the job done quickly and decided to do it all in one trip. I sigh inwardly as the out of control girl loses her grip and the contents in her arms spill across the grass.

  “Sam,” I sigh with more breath than I mean, “what are you doing?” I start helping her pick up the dropped objects.

  “Thanks, Al, you’re a lifesaver,” she tells me while organizing a pile of the fallen items.

  “What are you doing?” I ask again.

  “I told you yesterday, I’m helping my sorority with their party.” She unrolls one of the posters and holds it as she talks. It’s crudely made, but catches the eye. There’s nothing special, a couple of clipart images, monotone people dancing — used more often than needed. An elaborate photo of a grand hall represents the background and there’s magic sparkles floating all over the large piece of paper. Words advertising the party’s location and time are printed at the bottom with larger — much larger — words printed at the top telling the name of the party.

  It’s hideous, but gets the point across.

  “So, you’re putting up posters around campus?” I ask trying not to look at the poster. Sam, thankfully, starts to roll it up again as she nods.

  “What happened to helping the Music Club?” That’s what she told me yesterday she was going to be doing. She’s always doing something; we barely have time to hang out anymore.

  Though, she does make a huge effort to try.

  “That’s in the afternoon around four.”

  I gather up a few of her boxes and start to walk with her. I might as well help her since this looks like it’s going to be the only time I’ll get to see her today. Classwork can wait. Sam greets various people as we walk and I notice that they all know her name. It doesn’t really surprise me, Sam has always been able to make quick friends and she’s rarely shy around strangers.

  “Sam!” Ronny Waller jogs up to us as he gets Sam’s attention. Ronny’s the captain of the swim team and one of Sam’s many admirers.

  He’s also one of the people who take advantage of her kindness.

  “What’s up, Ronny?”

  “You’re still coming by to help the Swim Team, right?” Sam looks lost. She forgot all about helping them or they’re adding more to her already busy schedule without consulting her first. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of her willingness to help.

  She never gets mad at them for it.

  It always makes me mad.

  “I must have completely forgotten,” she apologizes, “when is it?” He smiles at her. I get a sudden flash of my fist knocking out his teeth, Looney Tunes style.

  “It’s all good. We’re meeting up at three at the pool.” Sam cringes at the time.

  “I can’t. I have to help the Music Club rearrange the stage for their concert tonight.” Ronny’s smile falters slightly. Sam rarely refuses to help and people usually understand when she does.

  Ronny, I can tell, is not going to be one of those people.

  “Do you really need to help them?”

  Sam nods her head.

  “But if you can start earlier, say two, I think I can manage to cut the Engineering Club short a bit.” Ronny smiles brighter in triumph, Sam has given in to his request.

  “That’s great! I’ll tell the guys of the time change.” He turns to leave and shouts over his shoulder.

  “Don’t forget your swim suit.” And he’s gone. That was a cheap trick, throwing that last line out there when he’s out of reach of my fist.

  Sam sighs loudly, playing with the charm bracelet I gave her over winter break.

  “Maybe helping the Swim Team today is a little much,” she says. I think I get whiplash from my double take. Sam never complains about helping people.

  Never.

  “I’ve been telling you all year that you’re trying too hard and doing too much.” We continue our walk.

  “I wish I had clones of me. You know, like that old movie with Michael Keaton, ‘Multiplicity’?” I laugh at that. I wish there were more of her as well.

  “That won’t work, the brain dead one was last, not first.” I laugh even more at my own joke. Sam hits me in the arm for my punishment.

  “Ha ha,” Sam sarcastically chuckles. “Ah hell, I’d be happy with some extra arms, two of them at least.”

  I laugh more and shake my head.

  “What? What’s with the shaking of the head thing?”

  “Only you would want to make a clone of yourself so you can get more work done.”

  “What, it’s a perfectly good use for a clone. It’s much better than an organ donor I would think.” I continue to laugh and she starts to smile.

  “That’s true, but most people would get a clone so they don’t have to do work, not so they can do more.” I’m can’t stop laughing and Sam starts giggling.

  “Then I’ll just take the limbs.” I laugh even harder at the mental image of her with four arms. Sam chuckles as well.

  Present Day

  This can’t really be Sam.

  It just can’t.

  Sam is a lively girl. Someone once asked me if she ever sat still, I had to reply with “the world would stop spinning if she were to stop.” She’s always laughing and carrying on with things.

  Seeing her like this is more than I can bear. She’s too still and peaceful.

  She looks like a corpse being forced to live on with machines.

  I realize I’m staring at her, but I can’t really help it. I’m enthralled by her sleeping figure and, though it’s hard, I can tell it’s Sam in that bed. The medical equipment — respirator and nasal tubes — cover most of her face, but I can tell it’s her.

  I can always tell when it’s her.

  The respirator rises and falls with her chest and I catch myself following the same rhythm. The heart monitor beeps loudly and I jump, panicking a little that it might mean something bad.

  Her right arm looks like scaffolding has
sprouted from it. It’s no longer black, but it is in a cast with metal poles and cords weaving in and out of it. Her arm must have been worse off than mine was. Of course it is – she got the full brunt of the impact. I can feel the fire start to ignite as I think about the accident. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I try to banish the thoughts. Getting mad is not a good idea right now. I’m here to visit Sam, not the past.

  I stop breathing when I reach the lower half of the bed.

  The blankets fall unnaturally around that area. Sam is short, but I guess about average for a girl her age. She comes to just below my chin. I think it’s the perfect height.

  Reality hits me.

  Sam will never again run and jump, climb trees, or play the sports she loves so much. She loves track and spends a lot of time on the track trying to shave that last second off her time. Sam used to play football as a kicker for the team; she is the first girl to do that. She even got in a couple of tackles.

  But that’s all over now.

  Sam’s legs are gone.

  Both of them.

  I wheel myself closer, taking care not to mess up all the wires and tubes attached to her body. I can see the catheter snaking its way from under the blankets to under the bed. There’s an IV in her arm. I decide to go to the side with the IV since it doesn’t have the cast in the way.

  I notice more things as I get closer to her. Gauze wraps her head and a skullcap covers it. Her eyes are closed, but unmoving and sunken somewhat into her head. She’s pale to the point of almost matching the sheets. She’s not moving — in fact, her chest going up and down is her only movement. Sam’s hair is gone. I can’t see any sticking out of the skullcap. She used to have long and pretty auburn hair.

  She looks peaceful, serene — dead.

  Seeing her here, like this, I can hardly believe it. The proof is looking me in the face, but I still can’t really acknowledge it. I reach up and slowly trace my finger along her cheek. Sam used to wiggle and squirm when I did that. She said it tickled. Now, she doesn’t so much as flinch at the contact and her skin is cold. I try not to panic at the coolness of her touch as I reassure myself by checking the monitors again. As I grasp her hand in both of mine, it seems to flinch slightly before I bring it to my forehead. I jump at the movement and think that maybe she’s reacting to me. I wait for a few moments to see if it happens again.

  It doesn’t.

  Something ruptures inside of me as reality sets in and I start bawling loudly.

  My heart aches in my chest. I can hardly breathe through the pain it’s causing. I squeeze her hand a little tighter and cry a little harder. I have never known pain this intense in my entire life.

  I doubt I will ever feel it again.

  Everything I unconsciously repressed comes rushing back to me. The horror I felt watching Sam’s head hit the window. Being unable to see her for days and the hopelessness that came with it. The pain of the accident and recovery. I relive every mournful and enraging emotion that I’ve had since waking up in this damn hospital. I wallow in how pathetic I feel being unable to move properly. The guilt from feeling like I should have done something to prevent this keeps eating at me. The feeling of loss for Sam’s legs and what it’s going to do to her emotionally wrecks me. The shock of seeing her in a coma like this. Every emotion I refused to feel. Everything I ignored now threatens to destroy me.

  My weeping is a sweet release and my sobs therapeutic.

  “I’m sorry, Sam, so very sorry,” I apologize. I don’t wipe my eyes; I just let the tears fall, griping Sam’s hand as if it’s the last piece of her I have left. This is the first time that Sam’s touch hasn’t calmed me down.

  Suddenly, a new emotion starts to form in my heart — fear. All of a sudden, I can’t think of anything other than what happens if she doesn’t wake up. My mind starts reeling.

  It’s a trip through my own personal hell and my subconscious is the tour guide.

  I stop breathing and then quickly start sucking in air. My rapid attempts at breathing cause the world to spin and I can see the familiar sight of black dots encroaching on my field of vision. I feel like my hands should be doing something other than holding Sam’s hand and I run one of them through my hair. The air in the room seems to grow thicker and it becomes increasingly harder to catch my breath. All the while, my mind is racing through hell with little regard to my body’s reaction.

  Images of the wake and funeral play out in my mind. My sister crying on my mother’s shoulders, Alex — Sam’s little brother — glaring at me as if he blames me for what happened. Nate is sitting stoic in his seat silently and tearlessly crying for his daughter, while Mary weeps next to him. Ethan, Quentin, and Arianna stand in the back, Quentin comforting Arianna as she dabs her eyes with a cloth. And then me, slowly walking up to the open casket. My heart rips in half as I set my eyes on her, lying in her casket the exact same way she’s lying in her coma.

  I clench my jaw shut to keep the scream from breaking loose, nearly shattering my teeth. My eyelids pinch closed and squeeze more moisture from the already sopping wet blues behind them. I wipe the tears before they can fall without letting go of Sam’s hand. I’m crying like the images in my head have already happened.

  My head collapses on the bed as I take deep, marathon breaths and large, angry, sad tears streak down my cheeks. I look up and stare at her unmoving hand for a few moments as I regain myself. Petting the back of it slowly with my fingers feels good despite her dead reaction to my touch. I choke on a lump of grief in my throat as I think more about everything. I can’t help my words as they spill out of my mouth.

  “I do love you, Sam. If you hear nothing else while in your dream world hear this: I love you.”

  I keep my head lying on her bed staring at her hand for a long while before the emotional exhaustion takes me from her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  5 Years Ago (Age 15): February

  I didn’t know getting ready for a date is this nerve wracking. I can’t figure out what to wear, even though I’m fairly certain jeans are acceptable. I’ve taken two showers since I apparently put on the wrong kind of cologne when I got out the first time — according to my nine-year-old sister. This meant I had to change my clothes since they also smelled of the aforementioned cologne. Finally, I get everything right — dating guru Jennifer Green approved – when a new problem arises: my parents aren’t home.

  So here I sit waiting for my parents to get home so one of them can bring me to the movie theater. I hate only having a permit and over six months until I can legally take the driving test. The time says it’s 15 to six and I’m seriously starting to freak out. I’m pretty sure being late to your first date — ever — is frowned upon. In fact, I think it ranks right up there with being late for your wedding or spoiling the ending of the movie while in the theater watching it.

  Finally, I hear the car pull in to the drive and I nearly pull my mom out of the car when I use too much strength to open the door she was already in the process of opening. I mumble an apology as I jump into the passenger seat she just vacated. My dad’s surprise is all over his face as he looks at me.

  “I told you I have a date, Dad,” I remind him. “I’m supposed to be there at six.” He chuckles at me as a response and starts the car again. My mother moves to the driver side and leans into the window, James comes to mine.

  “I’m just going to drop him off real fast and then I’ll be back.” My mom nods and gives him a quick kiss before looking at me.

  “Is it that hot chick from the club?” James asks me with a huge knowing smile. I roll my eyes at him.

  “I refuse to answer that lame question,” I answer and his smile grows bigger.

  “I knew it!” He triumphantly shouts in my ear and messes my hair up.

  “By the way, Alan, we got James’ pictures developed,” she relates to me, “thought you might like to look at them later.” She smiles knowingly. She giggles at my enthusiastic nod and, after one last kiss from my dad,
she goes into the house.

  The trip to the theater isn’t a long one, but it’s not a short jump either. Which means there is plenty of time for my dad to talk to me about things. He’s always trying to talk to me. I hate it. I guess I should be happy that I have a dad who actually cares about me enough to want to know how my life is or what’s going on in it, but really I just don’t want to talk about it.

  Especially with my dad.

  “So, I haven’t seen Sam in a while.” My dad tries to start a conversation. I’m only half listening, but answer just the same.

  “Some things happened and now she has a boyfriend.” He frowns at this.

  “That’s too bad,” he comments, “you guys used to be so close.” I nod my head.

  “Yeah, but there’s nothing I can do about it. She didn’t want me.” My mind stops for a half second and the smile on my dad’s face tells me he caught the mistake I made. Damn it, I had to tell him about my feelings for Sam. Though, knowing him, he probably already knew about them.

  “Don’t read any more into that statement then needs to be read,” I deflect. He nods his head, but that damn smile never leaves his face.

  “Of course, son, of course.” I give up and go back to reading. I can feel the blood fill my cheeks. There is nothing more embarrassing than telling your dad about your love life, especially unintentionally.

  Arriving at the theater, I slam the car door in my hasty escape. Running through The Marketplace isn’t a good idea on a Saturday night. This is the popular hangout place for all the teens in the area. It opened two years ago, so just about everything is new. Per the usual on a Saturday, the place is packed and I can barely walk around without hitting someone, let alone running. I curse my stupidity for not getting her cellphone number. It would have made life so much easier and less stressful if I was at least able to let her know I was on my way.

  Finally, seeing a break in the crowd, I hightail it to the hole and squeeze through as it closes behind me like a strange portal. I have a bit of a break and I’m now making great time. Katelyn sees me before I see her and she calls out to me.