by Sara Hubbard
“Sure. I’ll hang out if you don’t mind. We can talk when you get back.”
He kisses me lightly and leaves me alone with the silence of his cabin.
I wait for Sullivan in his room, but he doesn’t come back. My anxiety grows by the minute as the morning turns into afternoon and the afternoon turns into evening. When I check my phone, I realize that it's dead and I don’t have my charger with me. Shit. I could go home and charge it but I really want to be here when he comes back. So I stay put, chewing at my already chewed nails and tasting blood.
As the moon dips behind the mountains my anxiety peaks. I need my charger. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. No sooner do I get this heavy sinking feeling when Ames knocks on the door and opens it without waiting for me to respond. I glare at him, but when I see the look on his face, my irritation fades away.
“What is it?”
"I just got a call on my cell. There was an accident.”
Sixteen
I CAN’T EXPLAIN how I feel as Ames and I catch a cab to the airport. Yes. Airport. Because however serious Sullivan’s injuries are, it required him being airlifted to Queens. Ames pays for the charter and within hours, we’re in a small plane and I’m expecting the worst. With my mother, I never saw it coming. She was there one day and the next, she was gone. I went through a period where I didn’t quite get that she was gone. After school, I would come home and still fully expect her to be in the kitchen, cooking for me. Waiting for me. With Sullivan, I know there’s a possibility that I…could lose him. Preparing for what I’ll see only makes the knife in my chest twist harder and deeper.
As tears roll down my cheeks, Ames starts to speak but his words come out strangled. He clears his throat and continues. “I’m sorry, Abby. You were right. I was jealous. I’ve always been jealous of Sullivan and then when he was with you, I got even worse. We were always alone…always, and then he wasn’t anymore. I guess I didn’t want to be either.”
“This isn’t your fault, Ames.”
“The cops said he was on the road up on Garrows and a car swerved. He went over the cliff trying to avoid them.” Ames’ eyes grow glassy and I know he’s fighting tears. Seeing this human side of him makes me almost feel sorry for the guy.
“Why did the cops call you? Did they call his dad?”
Ames snorts and looks out at the clouds passing by. “His father was in a meeting. Guess the cops telling him that his son was in an accident wasn’t enough for him to reschedule.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow. My name was on his contacts, right after his dad. Guess that’s why they called me and not you.”
I touch his shoulder and squeeze. “Thank you for telling me. And thanks for letting me come on the plane.”
“It’s the least I can do for Sullivan, right?”
“Let me do the talking,” Ames says as we pull into the parking lot of the hospital.
We hurry inside, heading straight for the ER although by this point, I know he’s probably somewhere else, either in surgery or on a floor.
We stop at the reception and Ames forces a smile for the cute blonde nurse behind the counter. She looks not much older than me. “Can I help you?” she asks.
“We’re looking for my brother,” he says. “He was airlifted here from Banff. The police told me he was in an accident.”
She frowns and scans her computer. “Um…yeah…oh. One second.”
“What?” I say quickly. “No, not one second. Where is he? What’s going on?”
Ames’ grips my arms and tells me to calm down as the girl disappears behind an open door. A few minutes later, the doors to the back open up and a woman with glasses and a lab coat comes out—a doctor, hopefully Sullivan’s.
“You were asking about a patient who was airlifted here?”
“Yes. I’m his brother,” he lies.
She narrows her eyes at him and then tells us to follow her. When she shuts us into her office, I know something is desperately wrong.
“Are you Mr. Hope’s next of kin?” Her voice is quiet, but confident.
“No. That would be his father. I mean, my father. He hasn’t got the message yet.”
“I see. Well, it’s important that he come here immediately.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I lean forward in my seat and fight off tears. I feel myself shaking and have to clutch my hands together to try and stop them. I can’t lose Sullivan, not now. We haven’t had enough time together. I need more. I already lost my mother and I can’t bear to lose another person I love.
I won’t make it this time.
“Sullivan has sustained serious injuries, including a compound fracture to his arm that nicked an artery, and a perforated kidney. He’s lost a lot of blood. When we received him, he was in shock. He’s in surgery right now and we're hoping for the best, but it’s important for his family to be close to him."
“When will he be out of surgery?” I ask.
“It depends. But you can wait outside the OR. We’ll let you know.” She stands and smoothes her pants before shoving her hands in her lab coat pockets. “You’ll call your father?”
Ames nods as she shows us out the door and leads us to the OR waiting room.
My tears come first, following by quiet sniffles, but within minutes of waiting, I’m sobbing and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor, hugging myself and rocking gently.
I pull out my phone and call my father, needing, more than anything, to hear his voice. When he answers, I simply cry, feeling a little better that he’s on the other end.
“Abby, are you hurt?”
I am, Daddy. So much I can’t stand it. I know how you felt when you lost, mom, like your heart and soul were ripped from your chest and I’m only dealing with the possibility of losing Sullivan. I can’t imagine what you felt when you actually lost the woman you loved.
But I say none of that. I continue to cry.
“I love you,” he says over and over.
When my sobbing quiets, I say it back. “It hurts so much,” I tell him. "I almost lost him.”
A silence fills the phone line and it’s a while before my dad responds. “I know,” is all he says. “Love isn’t easy. It’s the best and worst thing that will ever happen to you.”
I choke out a sob and almost fall apart. “Make it go away.”
“I was a coward,” he says. “Whatever is going on, face it.”
“I’m not strong enough. I can’t.”
“You’re the strongest person I know. You helped me and you’ll help him. That’s what you do. Tell him you love him,” he says.
I swallow hard. “I…how do you know?”
He breathes into the phone making it sound like static. “Baby, I know love when I hear it.”
Twelve hours later, I’m numb.
“What’s taking them so long?” Ames says.
“Did you get a hold of his dad?” I ask.
Ames shakes his head and takes out his phone, but we both know there’s no message. “He won’t even pick up the phone. Asshole! What kind of father ignores his own kid like that? He could be—”
I snap my head over in his direction. Don’t say it, I beg with my eyes, and he doesn’t. He simply looks to his feet.
The doors open and a doctor in scrubs comes out, pulling off his bandana. “Sullivan Hope’s family?” he asks.
We stand as he approaches.
“Is he okay?” I ask. Over and over, I pray he's safe, and for a moment I forget to breathe.
“He’s stable and in the recovery room. You can see him for a minute if you like, but just one at a time. You’re both family?” His gaze flashes back and forth between us.
“Yes,” Ames says. “Of course.”
The doctor looks sceptical but he doesn’t question us any further. I want to see Sullivan but Ames got me here when I really couldn’t afford it, so I feel I should let him go first—even though my heart will shatter if I have to wait a single s
econd more.
“Go ahead,” Ames says. “He’ll want to see you.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I touch his arm and follow the doctor inside, glancing over my shoulder as the electronic doors close behind us. Ames and I share a smile; somehow, I know we’ll never be friends, but at the very least, we’ll never be enemies again. He loves Sullivan, too. More than I thought.
When I see Sullivan I stop dead in my tracks. After his party when he fell through the glass table, he was banged up, but now he’s a black and blue mess. A bandage is wrapped around his head. His face is swollen, particularly his left eye socket. I cover my mouth to stifle a strangled cry. He’s so broken right now. His appearance makes me think that for once in his life his outward appearance matches how he feels on the inside. Broken. Damaged. Vulnerable. It breaks my heart.
He isn’t wearing a shirt, and bandages are wrapped around his chest, all the way up to his nipples. His right arm is in traction.
“Oh my God, Sullivan,” I say, weeping. I reach for his good hand.
“Talk to him,” the nurse says. “Let him know you’re here.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Are you Abby?” she asks with her hand lightly touching my back.
“Yyyess. How did you know?”
“When they brought him in, he was still conscious. He kept saying your name over and over again. He must love you very much.”
“Oh, Sullivan.” My legs give way and I almost fall to the ground, but the nurse helps me to a chair.
“He’s going to okay,” she tells me.
I force a smile in thanks and calm my breathing as I take Sullivan’s hand in mine and slowly stroke his hand with my other one. “I love you,” I whisper. “I didn’t get a chance to say it yet, but I want you to know you have my heart. You always will.” I listen to the monitors that tell me he’s still alive. It’s the sweetest music I’ve ever heard.
I try to be fair and leave soon after so Ames can come in. He doesn’t stay long and when he comes out, I head straight back in. I’m with the stretcher, walking by his side as they take him up to the intermediate care unit. He’s still hasn’t woken up yet and I won’t sleep until he does. Ames sits in a chair in the corner of the room. He falls asleep a little after two in the morning. It’s three when his phone rings. He left it on the table and it doesn’t wake him right away, so I snatch it and leave the room, answering it with a simple hello. I don’t care if it’s someone he knows. I want to be the one to answer when Sullivan’s ass of a father calls. I want to tell him he’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve a son like Sullivan. He doesn’t deserve anyone at all.
“Who am I speaking with?” a man says in a cold voice.
“This is Abby Claire. I’m a friend of Sullivan’s. Is this Mr. Hope?”
“Yes. It is. What can I do for you?”
“What can you do for me?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. “Your son was in an accident. He could have died. He almost did!”
Mr. Hope sighs into the phone. “And his condition now?” he continues to sound indifferent. I hope I never meet this bastard. I can’t say what I would do to him if I did.
“He’s stable, but they removed a kidney and other than being badly banged up, his arm is in traction from a serious break.”
“I see. I trust you’ll keep me informed of his progress?”
“Excuse me? Your son almost died. Don’t you want to see him? See for yourself that he’s okay?”
He clears his throat and I hear the squeak of an office chair.
“You’ve just told me that he is. Tell him to call Eva if he needs anything. She’ll take care of it.”
I’m speechless. No wonder Sullivan is so turned off. If I was in an accident, you couldn’t force my family to stay away. They’d be on the next plane and at my bedside. They wouldn’t leave until I left. That’s what family does. Sullivan has no real concept of love and affection. His major role model is his father and in the two minutes I’ve talked to him, I feel ill.
“Yes, Mr. Hope. I’ll do just that.” I hang up the phone and clutch the phone to my chest just as Ames steps out of Sullivan’s room.
“Is that my phone?” he asks, pointing at it.
I nod and hand it to him. “Sullivan’s dad is an ass.”
“You’re surprised?”
“Yeah. Actually, I am. I didn’t think he’d be as bad as he was.” My heart breaks for Sullivan and it makes me love him even more, makes me want to tell him everyday how important he is to me and how much I love him. If only he’d just wake up.
I sit by Sullivan’s bedside, my arms wrapped protectively around his good arm and my head resting on the side of the bed. I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I wake, his arm is gone and a rough hand is gently caressing my hair. I lift my head up. My eyes are puffy and they burn from all the crying.
Sullivan tries to smile but with his swollen face, it’s kind of lopsided.
“Come here,” he says, attempting to pull me close.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“I don’t care.”
Carefully, I crawl on the bed and settle in beside him. He puts his arm around me and I settle my head against his shoulder.
“Your hair smells good,” he whispers.
I laugh, but it turns into a cry.
“Sshh,” he says, stroking my hair. “Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Look at you.”
“If you feel so bad for me, you could slide your hand under the covers. Thank God that’s not broken.”
“Not funny. I thought I lost you,” I say.
“So did I,” he begins. “When I went off the road and down the embankment, I thought I was done. That was it. And the only thing I thought of was you.”
“Oh, Sullivan,” I sob. “I was so scared when you didn’t come back, and when the cops called and Ames told me…I thought you might die.”
Ames steps in the room and says hello. Sullivan and I mumble one back.
“I’m going to get a coffee,” he says. “Interested?”
“Man, am I ever.”
“No, he’s not,” I snap. “You have to check with the nurse. He’s probably not allowed to eat yet.”
Ames mock salutes and smiles as he leaves the room.
“Ames chartered a plane and took me with him,” I tell Sullivan.
He squeezes me. “Where are we?”
“Queens.”
“Shit.” He clears his throat and I feel him tense. I assume it’s from the pain, and tears fall down my cheeks again. “Did anyone call my father?”
“Um, yeah. He…he wants updates. He’s worried.”
“You’re such a bad liar. If he gave a shit, he’d be here.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re here, and you were the only person I wanted to see when I opened my eyes.”
I sit up and turn carefully so my arm is bent and my head is resting in my palm. I study his face, every bruise, every cut, and every frown line. “I need to tell you something,” I whisper.
“I already know. You don’t have to say it.”
“I want to say it. I want to say it a million times a day in a million different ways.”
“Well, that might get a bit repetitive…” he teases.
“Sullivan…”
“Sorry.”
“I love you.”
“I know. I feel it, too.”
“I thought when the summer was over, I could walk away and be grateful for the time I had with you. But not now. All the time in the world wouldn’t be enough. You’re so important to me and—”
He pulls me toward him, catching my lower lip between his. His lips are swollen and it feels different, but also the same. I feel like I’m melting into him, like everything around us disappears, quiets.
“I love you,” I tell him again.
“I love you, too.”
Seventee
n
TWO WEEKS LATER…
I stay with Sullivan until he’s ready to leave. The hotel is very forgiving and allows me to resume my placement when I return to Banff, but I have to make it up at the end of the summer. Sullivan checks himself out of the hospital against medical advice, and though we fight about it I know there’s not much I can do to change his mind. In the weeks since his injury, his father hasn't called and I never called him. I asked Ames before we headed back to Banff if he called Mr. Hope to update him, but apparently not. I’m not sure I believe him, though I can’t think of a reason why he’d lie. Then again, I lied to Sullivan about what his father said when I talked to him. Maybe Ames is also trying to spare Sullivan’s feelings right now.
Another few weeks in Banff means another few weeks here with Sullivan. I can’t say I’m upset about that. More time with him is better than less.
When it’s time for everyone else to leave I’m a little sad. As crazy as Nicole is I adore her. In fact, I think I like her more because she’s crazy. I’m going to miss her—and Ella, too. The other girls say good-bye to me but there are no hugs or kisses involved. We were friends on a superficial level. We just didn’t really click. Other than Ella and Nicole I don’t intend on keeping in touch with any of them.
I pretty much move in with Sullivan after he leaves the hospital. I insist that I need to look after him and he doesn’t put up much of a fuss, mostly—I think—because he just wants me to stay.
Ames returns to LA and even hugs me before he goes. We have an understanding because I now know he wants Sullivan to be happy; the shit that happened between us is water under the bridge. Sort of. I haven’t forgotten the things he did, but I’ve forgiven him.
It’s late August, a few days before I’m supposed to leave, when Sullivan and I finally broach the subject of what will happen once I'm gone. Both of us have been avoiding the topic. I can’t be without him, but I also can’t ask him to leave everything he knows and come to Nova Scotia. Besides, I think he knows that as much as I love him, I would never be whole without Dad and my brothers.
