Seven

by Susan Renee

  Stupid drivers.

  Within minutes I’m pulling into Savannah’s apartment complex but her car is nowhere to be found. There are no lights on in her apartment. She’s not here. I swing the car back onto the road and drive by both the bar and the salon but don’t see her car in either of those places. The only other place I could think of besides Rachel’s house would be her parents’. I trust that Rachel would text me if she showed up there but just to be sure I head in that direction. It’s on the way to where Savannah’s parents live anyway. Twenty minutes later I’ve come up empty handed once again. She’s not at Rachel’s nor did I see her car parked in her parents’ driveway. I suppose it’s possible that she parked in the garage but I can’t just walk up and knock on their door. I’m not even positive they know about me.

  “FUCK!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!” I scream as I punch the steering wheel with as much force as I can muster.

  I’m helpless.

  She’s gone. I did this. My own stupidity and selfishness drove here away and now I have no idea where she is. So help me God if something happens to her tonight I’ll never forgive myself. I don’t know what to do now. I’m not the kind of guy who usually panics but I know what today is, I know what I’ve done, and I know that Savannah is now God-knows-where, and is most likely alone.

  The rain is still coming down at a steady pace, though I haven’t seen much lightening in the last couple minutes. Hopefully the storm will be over soon. It would make things at least a little bit more convenient. Continuing to hope that she texts me back I keep staring at the screen on my phone, swiping it with my finger and punching in my password just in case I may have missed her text.

  Like that would happen.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m pressing Savannah’s name in my “Favorite contacts” list. I don’t even know what I’m going to say but I need to hear her voice. Four rings in a row I hear before her phone jumps to voicemail. She’s not answering. She doesn’t want to talk to me. Can I blame her?

  No.

  “Savannah, I’m sorry.” I start when I hear the beeping following her voicemail message. “Listen, Please just…I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you since the day I saw you. Please just…Savannah text me when you get to where you’re going. You don’t have to tell me where you are. I just need to know you’re safe. I love you. Savannah, I love you.” Ending my call, I grip my phone in one hand while holding my forehead in my other hand. Savannah was right. I tried to ignore her depressed state when I spoke to her this morning. I thought I was doing something fucking good for her today and now I’ve gone and fucked it all up.

  I don’t deserve her.

  Deciding to head back home in case she decides to stop back, I turn my truck around. The drive home is slow and depressing. I’ve failed her. I failed her then and I failed her now. Driving home without her feels like a piece of me is missing. At least with Ivy away for the next couple nights I can try to focus on what the hell I’m supposed to do to fix this. It’s not like I can take Ivy’s liver and give it back to Savannah. Nor do I think that’s what she would want. I have to imagine that what hurts the most is knowing that I knew this whole time and never said anything…because I’m a pussy who was too afraid of losing the one good thing to walk into my life to just be honest with her.

  *****

  The bourbon in my glass slides down my throat with ease. I revel in the burn, accept it as a punishment for all I’ve done. It’s been hours and I still haven’t heard from Savannah, or anyone else for that matter. I pour myself my third glass of bourbon and lift it to my lips when my phone rings.

  Thank Christ!

  “Hello?” I answer the phone breathlessly in haste to hear any news.

  “Bryant. It’s Rachel.”

  “Is she there? Is Savannah with you?”

  “No. I haven’t heard from her. And I hadn’t heard from you so I thought I would call and see what’s going on.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper more to myself than to her.

  “Bryant? Talk to me. What happened?”

  I’m silent for a moment as my third shot of bourbon slides down my throat. My glass clinks on the table beside me with a louder thud than I anticipated. “I screwed up Rache, and I don’t think I can fix it this time. She’s gone.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” she says. “Anything can be fixed with a little love and tenderness.” There’s silence from both ends of the line as I decide that I don’t even know what to say. “Wow…you must’ve hurt her feelings pretty badly…want to talk about it?”

  “It’s Ivy’s liver.”

  “What?” she asks, confused. “What’s wrong with Ivy? Is she okay? Oh God, what happened? Did she get hurt?”

  I’m shaking my head back and forth as the room spins. I know she can’t see me doing it but it happens nonetheless. “No. Ivy’s fine. She has Peyton’s liver.”

  The silence on the other end of the line is deafening. “Rache? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. I’m here…I just…what do you mean Ivy has Peyton’s liver? Savannah’s Peyton? I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, Savannah’s Peyton. The one and only,” I say a little louder as I sloppily pour myself a fourth shot of bourbon.

  “Expl…wait…” Rachel says. I’m not quick to answer her because my thoughts aren’t coming as quickly as they were a few hours ago…when I was sober. “Are you seriously telling me that Peyton’s organs were donated and that Ivy was the recipient of her liver?”

  I swallow the shot of bourbon sitting in front of me, grimacing at the burn that attacks my throat. “Yep.”

  “Oh my God,” I hear her say softly on the other line. “How do you know this for sure?”

  I sit for a moment trying to decide the best way to explain it all to Rachel without her hearing that I’m certifiably drunk right now.

  “She wrote a letter to the Give Life foundation after Peyton died. I’ve had one of those letters sittin’ in my dresser drawer for years.”

  I hear her gasp on the other end of the line. “And you never told anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  “No one? Not even your parents?”

  “Not even my parents.” I lay my head down on my arm still holding the phone with my other hand. My head is spinning but I lift it so I can reach for the bourbon anyway. Noticing that there isn’t much left, I don’t even bother with the glass, I tip it back and swig it right out of the bottle.

  “Oh Bryant. How did she find out? She didn’t hear it from you I assume.”

  “Nope. Found her letter in my drawer,” I explain sheepishly. “Complete accident but still…it’s on me Rache. This is all my fault. I’ve been tryin’ to find a time to tell her but there was never a good time. I love her, Rache. I’m in love with her and I want her back but she doesn’t want me.”

  “You don’t know that,” she assures me. “Maybe she just needs some space. Give her the night and see what happens tomorrow. A lot can change after a good sleep.”

  “Yeah…maybe.” Maybe she’s right. I can definitely feel the need for sleep pulling me under. Alcohol has stunted my brain for the night. I’m out of coherent thoughts except for one.

  I’m sleeping alone tonight.

  “Call me tomorrow if you don’t hear from her first thing, Bryant, okay? I’ll help you look for her anyway that I can.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. Night Rache.”

  “G’night Bry.” I hear her say before I disconnect the call. I stumble over to the couch since it’s a hell of a lot closer to me than my bedroom. I’ll just sack out here in case a miracle happens and Savannah comes back to me tonight. Grabbing the throw blanket behind me, I fall onto the couch and cover part of my body with the blanket. I’m out for the count in seconds.

  *****

  “BRYANT!” She’s knocking on the door. I’ve been looking for her for days, coming up empty each time.

  Where the hell
did she go?

  Why wouldn’t she at least text me?

  I open my eyes a smidge when I hear the knocking, but my splitting headache tells me I’m not ready to get up. Last night’s bourbon party was meant to erase my pain, stop the hurt, but this morning I’m one hundred percent sure I’ll be regretting it.

  BAM BAM BAM I hear on the door again. “BRYANT, It’s ME! Open the door!” I hear her shout. I try to get up, to get to her quickly, but my body betrays me. I flail around in my bed, frustrated that my feet and arms are getting tangled in my sheets. I don’t even remember going to bed. I’m pretty sure I sacked out on the couch so how the hell did I get here?

  “BRYANT! PLEASE! OPEN UP!” She’s screaming right now, banging on my door. I get my hands free and try my best to slide off the bed, anxious to get up and run to her. I’ve missed her so damn much. I just want my hands on her, to feel her, to kiss her, to hold her and tell her how damn sorry I am for hurting her the way I did.

  “I’m coming, Savannah! I’m coming. Hold on!” I reach my hand out, assuming if I do so, she’ll put her hand in mind and I’ll have her. Instead I’m holding onto a pillow as my body slips off my bed and I land on the floor with a hard thud.

  Immediately my eyes spring open. I’m awake, alert and laying…on the living room floor? I didn’t fall out of my bed. I fell off the couch.

  It was a dream?

  But it felt so real.

  I take a deep breath, trying to settle my anxiety over hearing Savannah’s voice again. The clock on the wall says it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Damn…the bourbon knocked me out way longer than I anticipated.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “BRYANT!!! If you don’t open this door right now I’m going to break a window!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I say to myself as I lift myself up off the floor. I guess I wasn’t dreaming about everything. “I’m coming. Hold on!” As soon as I reach the front door, I unlock it and turn the knob. Rachel pushes the door open quickly. It smacks me with force as it opens. “Ouch. Damn, Rachel.” I rub my head. “What the fuck do you want?”

  I don’t make eye contact but I hear the tremble in her voice. “Bryant?” She sighs. “You’ve been drinking?”

  “Last night…I…”

  “We don’t have time, Bryant.” She’s extra hurried and I’m still lethargic, so I don’t understand. Finally, my eyes look to her face and that’s when I see it. Her expression screams fear, pain, fear, anxiety, fear…

  “It’s Savannah,” she says quietly.

  Everything about her expression sobers me in an instant. “Where is she Rache? Where did she go? Is she ok?”

  Rachel leans forward and places her hands on my shoulders. She challenges me to focus on her eyes when she speaks next. “Bryant, Savannah was in an accident. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. I don’t know any of the particulars. Savannah didn’t show up for work this morning, and you hadn’t heard from her yet, and then…”

  “And then what? Jesus Christ, Rachel, what happened?” I whisper.

  Please don’t let her be dead.

  Please, God, don’t take her from me

  “And then I saw the paper this morning.” Rachel shows me the front page of today’s paper. The front headline reads, STORM and FOG CAUSES NEAR FATAL ACCIDENT.”

  Near fatal?

  Something doesn’t seem right as I glance through the article quickly. It doesn’t mention victims or anything like that, nor does it tell me what kind of vehicle was involved in the crash. All the picture shows is a semi-truck jack-knifed along the side of the road. “Rache, this says it happened near Elizabethtown. She would’ve had no reason to go there. This can’t be her. This kind of accident could’ve been anyone. What makes you think it was Sev…”

  Rachel interrupts me, “Because I had this feeling in my chest when I saw the paper this morning, and since nobody has seen or heard from her, I needed to make sure that it wasn’t her, so I called her mom and…and…” Tears begin to run down Rachel’s face, confirming what I don’t want to believe.

  Everything in my stomach rolls. I look at Rachel with a blank expression. In my mind, I’m trying to decide which is closer, the bathroom or the front flower bed. My body makes my mind up for me when I swing open the front door again and hoist myself over the porch railing where all of the pain I tried to hide in bourbon last night comes right back to me. I vomit three or four times-I lose count-before I end up dry heaving. I hear Rachel’s footsteps behind me and then see a towel hanging from her outreached hand.

  “Thanks,” I whisper.

  “You’re welcome. You okay?”

  “Yeah. Too much bourbon. I’m good.” I breathe. “I’m good.”

  Fuck.

  Seven…

  This is on me.

  “It’s all my fault Rache. I did this.”

  “You didn’t cause her to have an accident Bryant.”

  “She left here because of me. If that wouldn’t have happened, she would be lying naked in my bed right now.” I point in the direction of my bedroom down the main hall.

  “Let’s not talk about faults right now, okay? Grab whatever you need and let’s go.”

  “I don’t need anything. Let me just lock up. Where is she?”

  “Elizabethtown.”

  “What the hell is she doing there? That’s west of here! Why would she have gone west of here?”

  “I don’t know, Bryant. I just know that’s where she is. Go get yourself a bottle of water and some crackers or something and then come on, I’ll drive. You’re in no state.”

  She’s right. My head is still spinning. Drinking so much last night was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had...besides the obvious. I mentally slap myself for spending my night in a self-loathing drunken stupor while Savannah was God-knows-where getting involved in an accident.

  Please don’t leave me Sev.

  I’m on my way to you.

  I can only pray that she’ll want to have anything to do with me when we get there.

  Chapter 29

  Bryant

  We’re pulling into the parking garage of Hardin Memorial Hospital in just under thirty minutes. My heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. Thank God Rachel offered to drive so that I could take the time to sober up as much as possible. I down my entire bottle of water and shoved as many goldfish crackers as I could into my mouth, as well as a few Advil. It wasn’t my hangover remedy of choice, but Savannah is more important. Before we exit Rachel’s car, I run my tongue over my teeth.

  “Shit. You got any mints Rache? Or some gum? I didn’t even get a minute to brush my damn teeth and now I’m going to be meeting Savannah’s parents.”

  Although neither of us feel the urge to laugh, she smirks at me before diving into her purse. “Yeah I have Altoids in here somewhere.” She shuffles through until I hear the familiar jingle of mints in a tin. She hands it to me and I open it pulling out no less than six mints.

  “Those are curiously strong you know,” Rachel says, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Don’t care. Anything to help erase the bourbon breath. I don’t need her parents thinking I’m a drunk.”

  Rachel tilts her head and looks at me sympathetically. “Relax. They’re not going to think that. I’ll vouch for you if I have to. You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Together we walk into the main entrance where the smell of a hospital hits me right in the face. Immediately my mind flashes back to a few years ago when I’m sitting in a hospital, day after day, waiting on better news for Ivy’s recovery. We stop quickly at the front desk where an older man and woman both sit, wearing matching vests over their clothes. Volunteers.

  “Can I help you, dear?” the white-haired lady asks me as we approach. Her smile is gentle and warm and she seems eager to help.

  “Uh, yes. You can actually. I’m looking for Savannah Turner. Can you please tell me what room she’s in?

  “Yes. Absolutely.” She sees the urgency in my eye
s but it doesn’t make her move any faster. We stand waiting patiently, but I feel the anxiety rising the longer and longer I stand here. The older gentleman sitting at the desk types in Savannah’s name into his computer and looks back up to me.

  “Sir, she’s in the ICU. That’s on the second floor. Room seven.”

  “ICU? Are you sure?” Rachel said she was in an accident, but never in a million years did I think it would’ve been an accident landing her in the damn ICU. Immediately I’m sweating, my body threatening me to give me back the crackers and water I recently ingested.

  “Yes, sir,” the gentleman says.

  Fuck.

  It’s bad?

  “Room seven,” I repeat in a mumble. A quick look to Rachel and I’m rolling my eyes at the irony. “Of course. She hates the number seven...thank you, sir,” I say to him. “Come on Rache.”

  We run to the elevators and hastily press the button for the second floor. Once we arrive, Rachel leads us down a hallway to a nurse’s station where she asks about Savannah. The nurse types Savannah’s name into the electronic tablet she’s holding and looks back to us.

  “Are you family?”

  “Uh…” I hesitate. I’m almost ready to lie just so I can see her but Rachel speaks up before I decide to.

  “Not exactly, no. I’m a friend of Savannah’s.” She nods in my direction. “But this is…”

  “My name is Bryant Wood, ma’am. Savannah is my…”

  Shit, what do I say?

  “Fiancé!” Rachel blurts out. I look to her dumbfounded but she only raises her eyebrows slightly at me.

  Right…only relatives…

  “Please, can you tell me anything about what happened to her? How is she? Can I see her?”

  How many people do I have to ask to just see her?

  I fear for a moment that she’s going to tell me I’m not allowed to see Savannah. I’m preparing myself to either beg for admittance or simply push past her and find Savannah myself. Before I decide what I’m going to say, the nurse eyes me over quickly, throwing me her most empathetic smile.