Oh My Goth

by Gena Showalter

  “I love you, too. And, Clarie? You had better.” Our breaths mingle, and as I inhale, infusing his essence in my every cell, a wave of darkness sweeps over me, and I know nothing more.

  Chapter 17

  Our reality should never be limited

  to the things we see and feel.

  There’s always more to the story.

  —Jade Leighton

  Beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep. Beeeeeep.

  My head! Oh, my throbbing head. It’s worse than ever before. And my body. Every inch of me aches. And dang it, there’s something stuck in my throat. I struggle to remove it, but no part of me wants to cooperate, and all I do is flail.

  Someone looms over me, but my vision is blurry, so I can’t make out his features. “Jade. Jade. My name is Dr. Weller. I’m one of the members of your recovery team. You were hit by a car.”

  That voice. I know it. The radio DJ.

  Wait. He’s a doctor. On my recovery team? I was hit by a car?

  “You’ve been in a coma,” he continues, “and you’re just now waking up. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re in pain, but I need you to be still, okay? There’s a tube in your throat. It’s been helping you breathe. I’m going to remove it, but you have to be still.”

  What? A coma? No, no. I was in my bedroom, talking to Clarik and my mom...

  My mom! She sent me back. I’ve returned to my real life.

  Beepbeepbeep. I need to see Mercedes. And Clarik. Does he remember our time together? I need to see my dad. And Fiona! Is she here? How’s Ruby? I want to see Linnie, Kimberly and Robb. Robb! He’s still alive. He must be!

  “Jade, honey. Please, settle down. I don’t want you to injure yourself further.”

  My dad’s voice penetrates my awareness, and I fight to turn my head. He’s blurry to me, but I can tell he’s standing beside my bed, being pushed away by a woman in scrubs and a lab coat. He’s here, but not Fiona? They’re still married, right?

  Panic sweeps me up, and I struggle against my bonds more stridently.

  “All right,” the doctor says. “We’ll try again in a bit.”

  One of my arms goes cold, as if someone just filled the veins with ice water. Black clouds instantly envelop me, and I drift away.

  * * *

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The steady sound drags me from sleep. I pry open tired, burning eyes. My vision is blurry, but the more I blink, the clearer my surroundings become. A small room filled with medical equipment.

  My head throbs more with every move I make, but I manage to turn to the left without wishing for death. A non-Goth version of my dad is sleeping in a chair next to my hospital bed; his upper body is slumped over, his dark hair disheveled. His white T-shirt is wrinkled, and his jeans have...coffee stains?

  How long has he been here, watching over me?

  Hospital. That’s right! Memories flood me. Hit by a car. Coma. Breathing tube.

  The beeping increases in speed as I reach up to pat my mouth. Oh, thank the good Lord. The tube has been removed. I’m breathing on my own—though every breath makes it feel as if needles are piercing my lungs.

  My dad jerks upright, his eyelids popping open. When he realizes I’m awake, he smiles—and then he bursts into tears.

  The sight brings tears to my eyes. I try to speak, but my throat is too raw, and the soft rasp that escapes is absolute agony.

  He grabs my hand, careful not to disrupt my IV. “Shh, shh. Don’t try to speak. Do you remember anything? Do you want me to tell you what happened?”

  A slight incline of my chin is all I can manage.

  “The night after you went out with Clarik, you came home, asked me about Nadine and shut yourself in your room, and I thought you went to bed, so I went to bed, too. You snuck out of the house—to go for a jog, I assume. I truly hope you weren’t running away. You came upon Mercedes along the way. A car was about to hit her, but you pushed her out of the way. The car ended up clipping her leg and ramming you. A boy named Bobby Bay was behind the wheel. He left the scene, but Mercedes was able to identify him and he was arrested just a few days later.”

  The car actually hit us? But...but... I remember diving out of the way and smacking into the flower bed.

  “Though her leg was injured, she managed to crawl to Clarik’s house. He called 911.” A sob. A sob he fights to control. “You had massive cranial swelling, a few broken bones and a ton of other stuff. I can’t remember all the details, I’m sorry. All I know is that you slipped into a coma, and I’ve never been more scared in my life.” He lifts my hand, kisses the center. “You’ve been here about three weeks.”

  In my foggy, drugged state, I struggle to make sense of things. My mom visited me before the accident. Unless, of course, coma-brain rearranged the timeline. Which is entirely possible, and far more probable than a ghost going all A Christmas Carol meets Matrix on me.

  Which means my mother never actually visited me. Mercedes never became my ally, and Clarik and I never dated. We had our nondate date and nothing more.

  The other reality was never created to teach me the error of my ways. Instead, it was a construct of my own making—of my imagination. And yet...

  Deep down in my heart I believe the things I learned about my mom are true. My subconscious must have unveiled the details little by little, helping me cope.

  “Grandma Beers drove up from Tulsa,” my dad says. “She’s staying at our house. Your friends have visited every day. Linnie, Kimberly and Robb. They’ve been so worried.”

  Robb! He is alive. I’m so... I can’t wait... He must be...

  Hot tears pour down my cheeks. My temples throb, fragmenting my thoughts, even as relief floods me. Relief and happiness. A thousand things might be wrong, but this...this is right.

  “Even Mercedes came to see you,” Dad adds. “She would read to you and hold your hand. And Clarik. I think he’s visited you more than anyone. Yesterday he brought a keyboard and, for the first time, you responded to stimuli. The doctors prepared us for the worst, but finally, we had hope.” He pauses as another sob overtakes him. When he calms, he gives me a smile that is big, wide and toothy, and melts my heart.

  So much to process! Here I am, back in the real world. Mercedes and Clarik came to see me, even though they know nothing about the past we share inside my head. Mercedes, my enemy. Clarik, my crush. Clarik even played a song for me. Probably the one I heard in the other reality, my mind weaving a story to explain what I heard in real life.

  My tears fall faster. Release the pain, embrace the joy.

  “Nadine has been part of your team, acting as your primary physician,” Dad says now. “She and Fiona were like hissing cats at first, but then your condition changed and suddenly they were like long-lost best friends.”

  Fiona. Sweet, gentle Fiona. I let the darkness of my past cast a shadow over her, never really giving her a chance, always pushing her away. I might not have lashed out at her, but cruelty comes in many forms. My coldness must have been a constant dagger in her heart.

  She deserves so much better than what I gave her.

  “We think Ruby sensed something was wrong with her big sister.” Dad smooths a damp strand of hair from my face. “She wasn’t moving around as much, but, oh, baby, did she start kicking up a storm when you woke up yesterday.”

  A sob shakes my entire body, and almost chokes me, then another and another. A tidal wave of anguish spills from my heart, crashing through me, and I offer no resistance.

  Dad rubs my back and mutters encouragement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let it out, let it all out...everything is going to be okay... I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you... I love you so much.”

  Had I opted to stay in coma-world, where things were easy—well, easier—I would have chosen death. I see that now. See so clearly. But I decided to live. This is my second chan
ce, and I will not waste it.

  I take my dad’s hand and squeeze, using what little strength I have. Never again will I give this man cause to doubt my love for him or think I’m running away from him.

  I feel a thousand pounds lighter when I calm, but there’s no time to enjoy it. A nurse comes in, shoos him out and takes my vitals while asking me a thousand questions about pain and mobility; she has me blink once for yes and twice for no.

  For the first time, I realize a cast binds my non-IV hand, and a brace hugs one of my ankles.

  When the nurse leaves, my dad returns. He’s on the phone with Fiona, giving her an update. He is glowing. “Fiona’s on her way,” he tells me when they hang up. “She’s so excited to see you. You’re not going to believe how big she’s gotten so quickly.”

  I desperately want to see her and find a way to tell her I’m sorry for the past, and that I love and appreciate her, that I look forward to a future together. But my eyelids seem to weigh ten thousand pounds now. Fatigue is racing me toward a finish line I can’t see.

  Finally, my eyes close, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just don’t have the strength.

  “Sleep, honey.” Dad pats my hand. “We’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

  * * *

  In the ensuing days, I’m given so many tests—both mental and physical—I don’t have time for visitors. Only my dad and Fiona are allowed in the room between those tests, and we talk about my mother.

  I was right. My subconscious unveiled the truth.

  I expect confirmation to fill me with anger or hurt, but I realize another startling truth. I’ve already forgiven her.

  “I know you’re eager to go home,” Nadine says when she enters the room, “and today we make it happen.”

  Home...the one I’ve missed, with colorful walls, lace doilies and country chic furnishings. I’m eager to see my friends, and a little nervous to speak with Clarik, if he even comes to see me. What am I going to say to him?

  I give Nadine a thumbs-up. She isn’t the she-beast I portrayed her to be in the other reality. Or what I’m calling CPR: Coma Provided Reality. CPR versus IRL. In real life.

  Anyway. Nadine is actually courteous, professional and kind. Yesterday she told me that my near-death helped her appreciate her daughter as never before and value the time they have together. She thanked me for saving Mercedes, and apologized for the things she said all those years ago.

  Nadine—who is wearing a pink top and brown slacks—types into the computer beside the bed and smiles at me. “You’re looking great, kiddo.”

  “Thank you.” Every day, speaking is easier. The first time I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I was pleasantly surprised. I expected a swollen and bruised face, but time has been kind to me.

  A nurse comes in with my dad, and together they help me get settled in a wheelchair. Putting any weight on my injured ankle isn’t fun—yet.

  Fiona is waiting for us outside, sitting in the driver side of her sedan, parked in the roundabout just beyond the emergency entrance doors. She smiles when she spots us, and I smile back.

  I know what life is like without her, and I never want to experience such a loss again.

  My dad opens the passenger door, helps me stand and hobble to the car and watches as I buckle my belt, ready to swoop in and take over if I weaken.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say, and I do not use the term lightly. Fiona has been a wonderful mother to me, loving me when I was unlovable, supporting me even when I resisted and refusing to ever give up on me.

  Tears of happiness well in her eyes. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Waves of affection warm my heart. “How’s our girl?”

  Beaming now, she rubs her stomach. “Still kicking up a storm.”

  My dad shakes the nurse’s hand before settling in the front passenger seat. He flicks me glance after glance over his shoulder as we motor down the road.

  “Dad, I’m fine. Promise.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” And still he glances over his shoulder.

  I chuckle as I peer out the window, enjoying the early-December scenery. Gray sky, red leaves. Signs advertising pumpkin everything. Yeah, this is real life.

  I haven’t told anyone about my CPR, and I’m not sure I will. Robb won’t be happy that I killed him off in my dreams, and Linnie and Kimberly will want to barf about their wardrobe choices. Mercedes... I don’t know what she’ll say. I know only that I miss the friendship we built, and the strong, brave girl she became. Clarik might think I’m a creepy stalker chick.

  Plus, everyone will laugh about an experience that has changed me on a fundamental level, laugh at memories that are as real and precious to me as any others. No, thanks.

  These memories...they are precious to me. I’ll guard them like the treasure they are.

  “Home at last.” My dad helps me out of the car and prepares to act as my crutch.

  “I promise not to run, or try to jump any hurdles,” I say, and kiss his cheek. “I’d love a chance to walk on my own.” Gotta start sometime.

  He holds up his hands, palms out. Though my gait is slow, every step measured, I manage to limp to my bedroom on my own. Of course, Dad and Fiona remain nearby, just in case.

  While Dad gathers everything he thinks I’ll need—junk food, a bottle of water, an iPad, iPhone, black marker and TV remote—Fiona tucks me into bed.

  Before she can leave, I clasp her hand. “I’m sorry for all the times I ignored you. I’m sorry for all the times I acted as if you didn’t matter.” My voice wobbles. “You matter to me.”

  “You matter to me, too.” She presses my hand against her heart. “Always have, always will.”

  My dad comes up beside her and drapes an arm around her waist, gazing at me as if I’m a cross between fungus and a check for one million dollars. “Pod person! Who are you and what have you done with my little girl?”

  Fiona playfully slaps his shoulder. “She survived a major trauma. Of course she’s changed.” She smiles at me. “Feel free to ignore the garbage your dad just placed on the nightstand. While you were in the hospital, I cooked and froze a thousand different meals so that you’d have plenty of food to choose from when you got home. Food that is nutritious and delicious. No mushrooms, you have my word.”

  “I would love one of your casseroles,” I say, grateful for her thoughtfulness. “Yes, please, and thank you.”

  “I’ll go heat something up.” Still smiling, she waddles off.

  My dad leans down to kiss my forehead. “You’ve made her year.”

  “Well, she’s a wonderful person. You couldn’t have picked a better partner.” And that’s the truth.

  He bops my nose before striding from the room. Giggles jumps onto the bed and stretches out on the pillow beside mine, then looks at me with pleading eyes, practically begging me to pet him.

  I reach out—and he claws my hand, drawing blood. A laugh bubbles from me. Some things never change. “I’m glad to see you, too, devil-cat.”

  Grandma Beers visits later that day, and I love that she’s back to her normal self. Her hair is completely gray and styled into a perfect beehive shape. She’s wearing an orange muumuu with yellow flowers and green socks. We talk about my mom, about her depression, and mourn together for what could have been.

  Throughout the day, I receive other visitors. Every time Dad or Fiona escorts someone to my bedroom, I’m reminded to stay put, and my friends are warned not to jostle me.

  Linnie is the first, Goth once again, and my heart nearly bursts with love as she sits in the chair that’s been placed at the side of my bed. I beckon her closer and closer until I’m able to hug her. She hugs me back, careful not to squeeze me too tightly. Giggles hisses at her, but doesn’t try to maim her. I guess his attacks are saved for me and me alone.

  “What was that for?” she a
sks, her eyes watering.

  “I love you, that’s all.”

  Her mouth hangs open as she studies me more intently. “Be honest. Did an alien take over your body?”

  I toss a potato chip at her—which she catches and pops into her mouth.

  I ask her about her day. Actually, her weeks. I want to know every detail about her life. At first, she offers scant details, because I’ve never really shown such an interest before. But it isn’t long before she’s gabbing about everything and nothing.

  Before long, Kimberly and Robb arrive and join us. They, too, are back to normal, and it makes me smile so wide the muscles in my jaw begin to ache. I give them both hugs, and they’re as surprised as Linnie.

  “I love you guys, and I missed you,” I tell them. They’ll never know how much, but I will delight in proving it. “And, Robb,” I add, taking his hand. I peer deep into his eyes so he’ll know how serious I am. “I don’t know if you’ve been planning to maybe say goodbye to us...forever.”

  He looks ready to cry. Heck, at this rate I’m going to make everyone who comes into contact with me sob.

  Yes. He had. And the realization hurts. “You are one of the best people I know. Whatever trials you’re facing, they can’t, they won’t, last forever. This is a storm, and storms pass. Flowers bloom.” I think of the time I ridiculed the philosophy and want to shake Old Jade. “I know those words won’t fix the pain inside you, but they are true nonetheless. And you are loved. You are valued. You are a treasure, and there’s not another one like you.”

  “Thank you,” he croaks, then he clears his throat. “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done with our Jade, but I like you and I’ve decided I’m keeping you.”

  Everyone snickers. Including me! As we talk and laugh, happy to be together, my dad brings us each a bowl of the homemade chicken noodle soup Fiona heated up. I eat until I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams, loving each bite more than the last.

  But with food in my belly, fatigue threatens to overtake me and I know I’m running out of time. There’s so much more to say. “You guys have always been kind to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. I took you for granted, and that stops now.”