But Nick had forgiven me. I needed to find a way to get past it.
“I was so tired,” I absently watched the lady on the bright computer screen say.
Rubbing my eyes in order to clear my mind, I stopped punishing myself and began to listen to Doc’s CD. The lady was still talking about her job:
I went to the children’s hospital early that morning, only to find out there was no record of me volunteering there. Of course, I knew there was a mistake, so I phoned my sister, Patty, who also told me the same thing—I’d never volunteered there, or at any hospital in the state of New Jersey.
A doctor came on next. “Sally was experiencing what we call a ‘reaction’…”
Reaction. That word again. Doc had mentioned it on my first visit. What had he said about it? Something about making up a false world. Bringing fake objects from reflection-dreams into the real world. Curiosity stole my fatigue, and I went back to the beginning of the lady’s interview.
Maybe because it was late that odd thoughts began to work in my head. If reactions were real, and according to Sally they were, reactions were linked to fatigue. But what kind of psychologically messed up person couldn’t tell the difference between reality and a dream? I mean, come on. Sally thought she worked at a place she’d never worked at in her life? When she walked into the hospital that morning, didn’t she realize that no one looked familiar? It seemed a bit unlikely, and a lot hokey.
I turned off the computer and lay in bed, philosophizing on how bizarre life was, and how it could change in an instant, and how much simpler mine would be without fantasizing about a certain someone.
*******
“I was thinking, we should have put some sort of tag on the necklaces with your contact info so people know where to find you if they want to buy more,” Liz said as her and Creed looked over my newest jewelry creations strewn out across my little kitchen table.
“Ooh, great idea!” I told her. “Why didn’t you think of that sooner?”
“Because I didn’t think of that sooner,” she mumbled, and Creed chuckled.
“This one’s cool. How did you make the hole in the silver flower?” Creed held a necklace in front of his face, more interested in the workmanship than the design.
“I used a little drill I bought from a hardware store.” And I pointed to the kitchen counter where the little yellow drill stood in its charger.
Creed said exactly how I felt, proud of myself. “I’m so proud of you, Heath.” These are amazing.” Anything to get my mind off Nick, I almost responded.
“Liz,” Creed spoke up, “why don’t you be Heather’s marketing agent? Heather can make the jewelry and you can be in charge of sales and drumming up more business. You guys could start your own company.”
“Actually, I was thinking the same thing last night,” I admitted. “I could use some help making the necklaces; I’m already behind on orders. And we’ve sold a few hundred dollars worth already. If we got serious, maybe we could make something out of this. At least we’d have fun trying.”
“And we’d become pro jewelry makers!” she exclaimed. “People would commission us to make jewelry for them, and we could do special events and parties and shower gifts…”
And dumb winter weddings.
“I’m in,” she said enthusiastically. “Let’s decide on a name and create a logo. And we can work after school every day. This will be so much fun!”
Fun. Well, if it weren’t for this new hobby and the sudden demand, I would probably be in jail for stalking by now. I should at least do community service for the unreasonable amount of time spent thinking about him. But I was good at putting on a happy face. It seemed to work for Creed and Liz. Honestly, it was working for me too. Nothing would change wanting to be with him every second of every minute, but the more I smiled, the better I felt. And life was good: I had two of the best bff’s ever, I was going to college, and I was reviving little has-been antiques. Creating brought me joy.
Creed was just as excited. “Then you can put tags on all the jewelry and really go at it!”
“It’s set, then.” I truly was thrilled, ready to put my heart and soul and mind into a worthwhile hobby.
“Speaking of going at it…” Liz walked to the couch and plopped onto it, lifting her legs across Creed’s lap. It was the first time I’d noticed how comfortable she’d become with him. “You never told me what happened when you went to Nick’s house the other day.”
“Nothing much.” Shrugging my shoulders, I began rearranging the necklaces a bit too eagerly.
“Did you get to talk?” Liz probed.
“We talked.”
Creed joined the conversation. “What did you talk about?”
“Nothing really. We mostly argued.”
The fading joy in the room ran completely out when Creed asked, “Why would he fight with you? What’s the dude’s problem?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. But I think I might have started it.”
“I doubt that.” Creed was still relaxed against the couch, his legs sprawled out and his arm resting against the couch back, with Liz’s legs across his middle. But I sensed he didn’t feel all that relaxed inside. He had always been protective of me; he still was. Maybe even more protective now that we’d kissed. There was something about sharing an intimacy that connected you not only in an emotional, territorial way, but in a purely physical, bodily way too. Now we had both. Although when I thought on it, Creed might have already felt that latter bond from taking care of me while I rested in my coma.
“Did you guys talk about you guys?” Liz urged.
“Mostly about the past.” Going over each necklace, I rearranged them for the second time. “We basically said our goodbyes.”
This must have relieved Creed because he readjusted himself, grabbed a throw pillow, and then put it behind his head for a nap.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not over till you’ve kissed,” announced Liz. “You haven’t, have you?” When I didn’t answer, she cried, “Oh my word, did you guys kiss?”
“If you could call it that.” I glanced over at Liz, noticing that Creed’s eyes were still shut.
“I’m going to kill you for not telling me. Did he, you know, kiss you, or did he kiss you? Short, or long and wet and sloppy? Details, details. Oh crap, or did you kiss him?”
“All right.” Creed gently lifted Liz’s feet off and stood. “Come get me when you guys are ready to eat. I’ll be upstairs.”
Quietly, we watched Creed leave. “He’s such a good guy,” Liz reflected. “But I’m glad he left because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I ran into Nick on campus yesterday.”
My hands stopped working; she had my full attention. Did he say something about Creed? Was he kissing his fiancé, long and wet and sloppy? How quickly the tides turn, I mused. Did Liz talk with him? What did he say?
As if reading my thoughts, she went on. “He said he was worried about you.”
“Really?”
“That’s not all. He said he just wanted me to know. I told him you’d been working on your jewelry a lot lately, and with that and school, you probably weren’t getting enough sleep. And then he asked me to keep an eye on you. He started to ask if you needed anything, and then he stopped himself. Interesting, right? I told you you’re on that boy’s mind.”
“Why is he still on campus? I thought after his final project, he was done.”
“I don’t know. Probably hasn’t finished all his grad-school classes yet. You know how that goes. But who cares. Did you just here what I said?”
My head shook; not the response she was hoping for. “Ugh, you know what I need? I need—”
“A brain, scarecrow. The guy is beside himself in love with you.”
What did that matter when he also had someone else to love? Someone who could kiss him whenever she wanted to, and wherever she wanted to, and however she wanted to—long and wet and sloppy. Man, I didn’t like that girl. “I think I’m more the tin man in this
scenario.”
“No, the cowardly lion,” she needled.
“Meany” I teased back. “I would have preferred the wicked witch.”
*******
I was resting on my little hillside. Winter was setting in, and the air was cool and fresh. My car, Penny seemed to prefer the milder seasons, which would be inconvenient soon. It had been a little over two months since leaving the hospital. The sleeping log Doc had given me to fill out hadn’t been touched since my appointment last week. I wasn’t much for busy work. And besides, he’d said not to worry about my low energy, considering what my brain and body had gone through. Brain injuries, especially followed by comas, especially reflective comas, were tricky, and he only wanted to be extra cautious that we weren’t overlooking any side effects.
The only side effect I knew of was the one on my heart. But there was nothing Doc could do about that. What I really needed was someone to talk to. I was searching for answers inside that I couldn’t find. I had a decision to make. It was the same decision I’d been faced with the first day I left the hospital. But for some reason the decision seemed more pressing now, and I wanted to get it over with. And there were so many voices in my head. Do I keep hoping, or let him go? Only one person could talk me through this.
Thank goodness Professor was in his office.
“Remember your Creative Writing class summer semester? That’s when I first got to know Nick. So many good memories. At the beginning of the semester, you assigned us all projects, remember? And Nick, he played the guitar. I’ll never forget that. I remember he told me he hadn’t played in years, but he wanted to play for me, and we hadn’t even known each other for very long. I wish I could go back to that time. It seemed so simple then. I bet he doesn’t play anymore.”
“He’s a talented young man,” Professor recalled.
An agreeing sigh. “It’s wrong to love him.”
“Love is never wrong.”
“Except in this case. You know, I keep thinking that maybe everyone would be better off if I’d never met him. Like maybe it’s better never to love at all. That way, you stay safe. No one gets hurt.”
“Maybe, if you could see love as something you give instead of something you get…”
“Crazy, he taught me what love is, and now it’s useless on him.”
“Not useless, now there’s more use than ever. It’s not love that’s tearing you apart, my dear. It’s the lack of it.”
“There is nothing lacking in my love for him, Professor.”
“Do you love him enough to let him go? To give him his happiness?”
It was as if his words knocked on the windows of the soul. To love someone enough to want their happiness more than your own? Was that it? Was that the answer? The thought was cringe-inducing, but becoming clearer.
“Why do I have to go through this, Professor?”
“The rain falls on all of us. But in every trial there’s a silver lining. You only need to discover it.”
Professor’s words were again teaching the heart.
“You are a rare gem, Heather. A true lady. You will do the right thing.”
With a voice frayed from emotion, “Yeah, I know.”
“Well then, it sounds like you don’t need me any longer.”
“Are you kidding?” came the emotional reply. “You’re the only person I can really talk to. What would I do without you, Professor?”
“You’d manage.”
“I doubt that.”
“Even when you are lonely, you are never alone. No one is ever alone.”
“I do believe that.”
“Of course you do. You’re so full of hope. That’s what makes you special, Heather. Just remember, some people are broken by their trials. Others are strengthened by them.”
“I think I fit into the broken category.”
His eyes twinkled, the wisdom running through them. “Well, then, thank goodness it’s the ones who are broken and weak who become humble, and therefore the strongest in the end.”
The end…Why does everything have to end….
I pondered on the things Teacher Jerry had told me, cast down by the heaviness of his words. The pang of loss would send me into a tailspin. But the fact was, the transition had come. I was now out of my shoes, and in Nick’s bigger ones. I began to hurt for him, not myself. His life hadn’t been any easier than mine. And how could I cause him any more grief than he’d already had in his life? How could I live with myself knowing that I was responsible for his adversity? It hurt to think of my selfishness, and how it might be affecting him. Well, no longer would I allow myself to be the source of his pain. No longer would I try to get in his way. My love had not only turned stronger, it had turned selfless.
As for me, I felt a strength of mind, however melancholy, I hadn’t felt in a long time.
*******
When Liz and I rounded a corner after health class, I noticed the group of them standing in the corner of the quad. Peter was down the walk talking with Paige, and Nick and Creed were off to the side, closer to where we were. I grabbed Liz’s bag and tugged her back against the building so they couldn’t see us.
I watched Creed move so that he was face to face with Nick. What were they doing? And why were Creed and Peter even on campus?
“What’s your problem, man?” I heard Creed ask. “Aren’t you supposed to be engaged? You think you can just tow her along without hurting her? I have no idea why she even likes you. What she even sees in you. She deserves so much better. You’ve brainwashed her or something.”
Nick’s head was down; he was listening but not giving Creed the satisfaction of his full attention, as if indirectly telling Creed that his opinion was not important.
“You make me sick.” Creed would have made it through the confrontation without any bruises, even after referring to him as a parasite, had he not flicked Nick’s chin while asking, “Are you listening to me.”
Faster than my eyes could follow, Nick grabbed Creeds shirt and threw him up against the brick wall. Luckily, Liz was grabbing my shirt just as violently or I would have looked like one of those paltry theatrical girls trying to break up a guy-fight.
Peter and Paige must’ve seen the commotion too, because they were moving toward them.
“What, are you going to hit me?” Creed’s words had more bite than his paled face. But to his credit, he went on, “Come on then, tough guy.”
Nick whispered something into his face, words I couldn’t hear, but I could feel them.
Though Creed was the one egging it on, Peter went straight to Nick, probably because he looked a thousand times more dangerous than Creed ever could.
“Hey dude, relax. You’re overreacting.”
I heard Nick for the first time. “Was I talking to you?” His low, even voice challenged Peter to respond, though his eyes stayed fastened on Creed. Peter answered his question by backing up. I don’t think he wanted to ruffle Nick’s feathers any more than they already were. For a second, I watched Peter shake his head, and then my eyes went back to the guy holding the other guy against the wall.
Even and controlled, but with a darkness in his eyes that made my skin crawl, Nick put his forearm across Creed’s chest. “That’s a warning, Creed.”
Nick let go of him just as Paige moved forward.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a “please-don’t-make-a-scene-at-our-country-club” sort of way.
They’re playing dress-ups, what does it look like? I itched to say.
“It’s okay.” Creed was still pulling his t-shirt down. “We were just having a little chat.”
I was nudged forward by someone much stronger than my little, petite friend behind me. But when I looked back it was only her. We stumbled toward the group.
“Hey everyone,” Liz said in a tone that was much too bright, even for someone who might not have seen what happened.
“Is everything all right here?” interrupted an accented voice that brought me back a few years. I
turned and saw a lady walking toward us wearing a grey blazer and black dress pants. At first I thought she was a faculty member, but when I studied her face, I realized it was an old classmate; Mayra, the Australian lady in Professor Jerry’s Creative Writing class. The class where Nick played the guitar for me.
“Hello, Nick. How are you doing?” I almost gagged at the way she looked at Nick, as if he were her very own, little boy toy, just as she used to stare at him a few years ago in class. I recalled I didn’t like her then, and I still didn’t warm to her. But I wouldn’t be affected by Nick’s business any longer. Let it go, I urged myself. She glanced over the group. “And Heather,” she said with surprise. “It’s great to see you again. I heard about your accident. I’m glad to see you’re doing so well.”
Probably because I wasn’t responding, Nick spoke up, “You remember Mayra Jones, our Creative Writing professor?”
My mind was elsewhere. It was more than not liking her because of her flirtations with Nick, though. She bothered me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. Like a little itch in the middle of my back that I couldn’t get to. When I got an elbow from Liz, I snapped out of it. “Oh, um, sorry. Yeah, hi. Good to see you again.”
“Is everything okay here,” Mayra asked. “I thought I heard someone say there was a fight going on. Nick?”
“No, Professor. Everything’s fine. We were just leaving.”
I didn’t hear Mayra’s response because I was wondering why Nick had called her professor. Was she a teacher now?
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “But are you a teacher here now?” She was definitely dressed like one. But how does someone go from annoying student to Professor in a couple of years? Something didn’t mesh.
Mayra looked at me like I had two heads. “Am I a teacher here now? I’ve always taught here—”
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