Rewriting History

by Missy Johnson

  My chest tightens. “When?” I ask. My voice comes out foreign.

  “He collapsed. We found him. I . . . I don’t know how long he was there, but it doesn’t look good. He’s in a coma and they say he won’t . . .” Her voice trails off as she breaks down.

  “I’m on my way,” I say. “Which hospital?”

  “Anchor Park. Eli . . . can you call Mom? I think she would want to know.”

  Would she? All the shit he put her through and she’s finally got her life back on track. I have no idea how she’s going to take this, and that scares me.

  “Sure,” I mutter, rubbing my head. “I’ll talk to her.”

  I hang up and head out to my car, calling Mom on the way.

  “Eli,” she says, sounding pleased to hear from me. She’s happy, and I hate that I have to be the one to tell her this.

  “Mom. It’s Dad.” I sigh and close my eyes. “He’s in the hospital, and they don’t think he’ll make it.”

  “Oh God, Eli. I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice deflated.

  I want to laugh. Why is she sorry for me? I’m the one who is sorry. Sorry that once again, he could be making her miserable.

  “Eli, I know how hard this thing between your dad and I has been on you, but I promise you, you’ll regret it if you don’t make peace with him.”

  I sigh and rub my head. I know she’s right.

  “Go. Call me later, okay? I love you.”

  I hate hospitals. I always have. The funny thing is, my fear is irrational. I haven’t spent any time in one and neither has anybody I know, but there’s something about them that instantly make me feel anxious. The strong stench of disinfectant, being surrounded by so many sick people…

  As I walk through the halls toward room 219, I run over and over in my head what I’m going to say. If I forgive him, would I really be forgiving him, or just telling him what he wants to hear? I can’t even figure out how him dying makes me feel. I don’t feel sad, or upset. I feel sorry for my sisters, and my niece and nephew who are losing a grandfather, but for myself I feel empty.

  I stop when I realize I’m standing outside his room. My hands are shaking. I’m nervous about seeing him so close to death and having that image of him in my head. Everything I’m thinking right now is completely selfish. I wish there was a part of me that actually felt something. Anything.

  The door opens and Jules stumbles out, crying. My heart begins to thump loudly in my chest as she falls into my arms. My hands rest on her back as it hits me: I’m too late. I never considered that he might die before I got there. For some strange reason, I figured he would hold on until I saw him.

  “He’s gone, Eli.”

  I glance past her and into the darkened room as I let her sob on my shoulder. I can make out the shadows of Mel and someone else, and Dad lying still on the bed. Jules breaks away from me. Her eyes are red and swollen as she struggles to compose herself.

  “I have to call Leisel. She was on her way back over here. I was hoping he would wait…” She trails off, her voice giving way to a fresh wave of tears. “Go in and see him, Eli.”

  I watch her as she stalks down the hall, the sound of her heels clicking on the polished floors echoing through me. I turn back to the room and step forward. I have no idea how I will feel when I see him and that scares me.

  “Eli?”

  Mel’s voice cuts through the darkness as I walk inside the room. My heart races as I walk around the bed to where she sits, resting my hands on her shoulders. Her hand covers mine as she sniffles. Neither of us say anything as the nurse removes his tubes.

  My eyes sting as the light flickers on. Looking up, I see Jules is back.

  “I had to leave a message,” she mumbles, falling into the seat closest to Dad. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as she reaches for his hand and strokes it.

  It’s much harder than I thought it would be, seeing him lying there. Knowing that I’ll never have the chance to fix our relationship. I’m actually angry at him for dying, as if it was somehow another way for him to fuck my life up. I laugh and shake my head.

  I’ve actually managed to make him dying all about me.

  “Are you okay?” Jules asks. She’s watching me as though she’s worried about me. I shrug and scratch my nose, not trusting myself to speak.

  Honestly? I don’t know if I’m okay. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything right now.

  “Do you want a moment alone with him?” asks Mel, her voice soft.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  The feeling comes on quickly. I take a few deep breaths but it does nothing. Why is this room so damn small? I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t fucking breathe. All I can think about is getting out of here. I breathe out sharply, pushing myself away from the back of the chair I’m leaning on.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I can’t be here right now. I have to go.” Mel and Jules stare at me, bewildered expressions on their faces as I spin and storm out the door.

  I have to get out of here.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jill

  The phone is vibrating with Eli’s name as I’m dozing off to sleep. Perking up, I answer the phone.

  “Hey.” I smile, my heart swelling at the thought of him. “I’ve missed you.”

  I’m greeted with silence and I immediately know something is wrong.

  “Eli?” I press, my heart pounding. “What’s wrong?”

  “Jill . . .” His voice breaks and I begin to panic. He’s upset, and I have no idea what is going on.

  “Speak to me, Eli. Where are you?”

  “At home. Dad’s . . . He’s gone.”

  Oh my God. My heart sinks in my stomach. Mr. A. Please, please no.

  “I’m on my way.”

  ***

  Thankfully Mom is home, which means her car is too. I throw on the first clothes I see in the closet, race to the kitchen, grab the car keys, scribble a note, and speed toward Eli’s apartment.

  Driving, my eyes are locked on the yellow line on the road and I’m not taking in my surroundings. My mind is racing with different scenarios, and it’s certainly not on the speedometer. A cop could be tailing me with his lights on and I wouldn’t know.

  I round the corner off the main road, where Eli’s street is only a block over. I don’t notice the leaking main when I feel the car start to move sideways. Panicking, I’m brought out of my daze. Slamming my foot on the brake, I feel the car slide out of control as the wheels fight with the pavement and water. My heart rate soars and I close my eyes when I notice I’m heading straight for a light pole.

  On impact, my body slams against the side of the car, but it’s my head and the skull cracking on the window that brings on the splitting headache.

  In my hazy state, I look around me. There’s shattered glass everywhere. I can feel blood trickling down the side of my face. Sirens wail in the distance. Lifting my head off the headrest, I press my hand against the side of my head. There are hundreds of stars floating in front of my eyes before my world goes black.

  “Ms. Wilson, can you hear me?” Muffled voices pound my head as I come to.

  “Eli,” I whisper. My throat is scratchy and it hurts to swallow.

  The bright lights blind my eyes. I’m being moved on a bed. The head-spin sends me back into the peaceful unconsciousness I came from.

  “Jilly baby, please wake up.”

  Dad. My daddy is home. Opening my lids, my eyes try and focus on his face in front of me, but he’s all blurry. Swallowing, I lean forward to hug him. I wince from the pain in both my throat and my side.

  “Try not to move, Jill. You broke a few ribs on impact,” Dad says softly.

  “Oh Daddy, you’re home,” I whisper as a tear rolls down my face. Everything is better when Dad is home.

  “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Dad whispers, patting my head, “Don’t worry about anything, okay?”

  I catch movement to my side and turn my head. Sitting there is Eli. I smi
le. I thought Dad was holding my hand, but it’s Eli. I should have known the large, warm, soft hand holding mine didn’t belong to a marine.

  I gasp. “Oh Eli . . . I’m so sorry. I tried to get to you.” I swallow my words as a tear falls down Eli’s stricken face. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn from holding my breath. I crack, and ugly tears burst down my cheeks.

  “Shh, let’s not talk about Dad today. Let’s concentrate on getting you out of this hospital,” he mumbles, squeezing my hand. I squeeze back and let myself drift off to sleep.

  ***

  The funeral for Mr. Anderson is today. Given that I’ve been bedridden for the last few days and Eli hasn’t been around due to my parents, I haven’t seen or spoken to him. I tried texting him with no response. I want to be there for him, to grieve with him, but I feel like he’s pushing me away.

  Sophia and I meet at my place to go to the church together. There will be thousands of students there, saying their final goodbyes to a teacher who was well-loved. It was going to be a hard day for all my classmates, but that paled in comparison to what Eli was going through.

  “Are you okay?” Sophia asks, grabbing my hand.

  “I’ll be better when I’m in Eli’s arms,” I respond, desolate.

  “It will all work out. I promise,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around me. I smile through my tears and squeeze her hand. I’m glad she can be here with me.

  We arrive at the church early and I immediately spot Eli. He is standing with a group of people at the front, and I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s wearing a black suit, and despite the somber mood of the occasion, he is smiling and laughing.

  Eli’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. It’s a simple gesture, but it tells me he’s okay. I watch as he turns back to the group, wishing I could go over there and console him. But I know I can’t. This isn’t about him and me, and as much as I want to be there for him, I know my presence will only create more drama. That’s the last thing he needs right now.

  Eli and his three sisters stand up the front of the chapel, his arms around all of them. He doesn’t speak—instead he stares straight ahead into the crowd of hundreds of mourners. The only hint of emotion is the pulsating vein in his neck.

  The tallest of the three girls clears her throat and steps forward to speak.

  “Dad’s passion in life was to break down the history of the world. Growing up, my sisters and I would sit around and be told stories, shown videos . . . anything that was significant in time.” She pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “I’ll read one of the quotes Dad would often say to me. ‘What is history? An echo of the past in the future, a reflex from the future on the past.’ Dad, your passion became my passion, and I am a better woman today because of it.”

  Her voice breaks and Eli’s arm tightens around her shoulder, his expression remaining stoic. I hate seeing him like this. I want to feel what he’s feeling, be the shoulder for him to cry on.

  He is refusing to let himself grieve and that scares me.

  After the service, we stand around making small talk as the family makes their way around the room. Only Eli avoids me. I know I’m being stupid—he has so many things on his mind that it’s silly I would even factor into his thoughts—but I hate not being able to help him.

  I pull out my phone and type out a text. I watch as he reads it, but shoves his phone back in his pocket without replying. His expression gives me nothing and it scares me because I have no idea what he’s thinking right now.

  “Are you ready to go, honey?” Mom asks. She frowns at me and I nod, shooting one last look back at Eli.

  The mood around the dinner table is morose. The room is deathly silent, except for silverware clanging on the plates as we cut our roast chicken and vegetables. My mind is racing with thoughts of Eli. I need to be with him. It’s driving me crazy not knowing whether he’s okay.

  “I’m going out,” I mumble, pushing aside my plate. Mom and Dad exchange a look.

  “Jill,” Dad says, placing his knife down on the table. “You need to stop seeing him. It’s not appropriate for you to be seeing a teacher, and I think you know that.”

  I freeze. Did I just hear him correctly? How the fuck do they know?

  “Don’t bother denying it,” Mom sighs. “We recognized him the moment we saw him. He didn’t leave your side while you were unconscious. It wasn’t that hard to figure out who he is, Jill.”

  “He needs me. I’m not letting him go through this alone. Besides,” I add quietly, “I’m eighteen. I’m an adult, so you need to start treating me like one.”

  “Jill.” Dad sighs.

  I shake my head. “This isn’t up for negotiation,” I say, my voice calm. “And I hardly think you are in the position to be giving me relationship advice.” It was a low blow, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re just worried about you,” Mom whispers.

  “And I appreciate that. I do. But have you ever known me to do anything reckless without thinking through the consequences? Eli and I, it’s not a fling. We love each other. Either you support it or you don’t, but I won’t stop seeing him.”

  My words echo through the room. The silence is deafening as I wait for them to respond. I sound so much calmer that I actually feel. Inside, I’m an absolute mess, and I’m praying they back down and let me see him.

  “Okay,” Dad finally speaks.

  Mom shoots him a bewildered look.

  “Go and see him, but this conversation isn’t finished.”

  The phone rings a good five times before Eli answers. It’s silent on the other end, and I wonder if I’ve been cut off.

  “Eli?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” His tone is flat.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. He doesn’t sound it. “I’m coming over.”

  “No, stay there.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I need some time alone, okay?”

  The line goes dead. He’s pushing me away and it hurts. I want to help him, but I have no idea what to do. Feeling deflated, I make my way out to the front porch and sit down on the wooden deck. Pulling out my phone, I send Eli a simple text. I don’t know what state of mind he’s in at the moment, but I want him to know I’m there for him.

  Me: I love you more than you’ll ever know x

  I hope he realizes that pushing me away isn’t going to change how I feel about him. Closing my eyes, I lay my head back and take a deep breath, my head resting on the rendered concrete exterior of the house. I sigh and stretch my legs, my body aching from the stress.

  “Jill.”

  My head shoots up and I see Jamie. How the hell did I not hear him walking across the front lawn? My body tenses. I’m not in the mood to deal with him.

  “What do you want, Jamie?” I mutter. “I can’t handle anything else today.”

  He flinches. Jamie actually flinches, and I want to laugh. This is the guy who has made my life hell for the last two months, and my words have hurt his feelings?

  “Do you mind if I sit with you? I want to talk.”

  I eye him, wondering what the hell he’s up to, because it’s always something.

  “I promise, I’m not here to upset you. In fact, I want to apologize.” Jamie walks up the front steps and sits next to me on the floor, leaving some distance between us.

  We both stare up into the dark sky, listening to the cars that drive past for a few minutes. My whole body is rigid as I wait to find out why he is here. I don’t believe for a second that he wants to say sorry.

  “I’m so sorry, Jill. For everything.” He stares down at his hands, as though he’s embarrassed to look at me. “It was totally uncool of me to take my anger out on you.”

  I’m shocked. I never thought I’d hear an apology from Jamie.

  “But why?” I ask, still not getting it. Is this all because of my mom? “What have I ever done to you to deserve that?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbles, bru
shing his hair out of his eyes.

  “Try me.”

  “My dad isn’t a very nice guy. He can be physically abusive at times.” He breathes out and stares up at the sky. “I walked in on him and your mom . . . He told me to keep my mouth shut or there would be consequences.”

  He laughs and shakes his head, kicking his legs out in front of him.

  “I was so angry because he’s always fucked around, but he was different with your mom. I could tell it wasn’t just a quick thing. And it sucked because my mom, who sits at home most of the day being a good little wife, was totally oblivious to what he was doing. He knew how close I was to telling her. The only thing that stopped me was I wasn’t sure if she could cope with hearing it.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry,” I mumble, not sure what else to say. “Does he . . . has he hit you?”

  He laughs and nods. “All the fucking time. I was so damn angry. I thought you knew what was going on. You were an easy target.” He gets to his feet and faces me. It’s awkward, standing there, listening to him rationalize his behavior. I’m not ready to forgive him, but knowing this, maybe one day we can move toward that.

  “Thanks for telling me this,” I say. “I know that must’ve been hard.”

  He shrugs. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. Oh, and you and Eli? I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  I nod, and watch him as he walks off. I wonder how much of this has to do with the girl Sophia told me about. Either way, I’m glad he’s backing off. If he actually does.

  As soon as he’s gone, I get to my feet and grab my bag. I refuse to let Eli go through this alone. Whether he wants me there or not, I’m going.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eli

  I hand Mel another glass of wine and then collapse onto the sofa. She eyes me sympathetically, as if this whole thing has been harder on me than everyone else. It hasn’t; I’m just a pussy with way too much regret—something that no amount of alcohol is going to distract me from. Not that it’s going to stop me from trying to drown my emotions. I lift the glass of scotch to my lips and take a sip.