Learning to Live

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

“Not at all,” she says. “I’ll go say hi to your mom and dad, Jess.”

  Brandon pulls me back toward him and I gladly fall into his arms again.

  “You know, you’re gonna run out of money soon if you keep flying my friends and family all over the country,” I say.

  He laughs and I get the feeling I’m missing something. “Jess, money is the least of my worries. I promise, that’s the last thing you need to worry about when it comes to me. Okay?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “So what should I worry about when it comes to you, then?”

  “Hm.” He makes a show of thinking for a long moment. “Well, I’m kind of a slob.”

  “Really?” I find this hard to believe.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m a neat freak. I just couldn’t think of anything real to say.”

  I swat him playfully on the chest. “So, what you’re trying to say is that you’re perfect.”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  I turn serious, though I’m still smiling up at him. “I know.”

  Then he pierces me with a look so intense, I can feel my insides turning to mush. He lowers his head and puts his lips to mine. It’s an innocent kiss, so gentle and chaste, yet it still makes me want to jump him right here and now.

  “I want you to know,” I say tentatively as he pulls away. “I’m getting closer—”

  He puts a finger to my lips. “Hush,” he says with a smile. “It’ll happen when it happens. I told you, I’m in no rush.”

  “I know, but…” I take a deep breath. “You might change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You might get tired of waiting.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You might decide I’m not worth the wait.”

  “Oh, I know you’re worth the wait.”

  “What if I’m not?”

  “You will be. Now hush, before I kiss you again.”

  “In that case, I’ll keep talking all night.”

  With that, he lowers his lips to mine again just as the song is coming to an end. I feel like Cinderella when the clock chimes midnight. Part of me is afraid this magical feeling will disappear once the lights come up and we have to start tearing down the centerpieces and lighting fixtures.

  Everyone claps as the band plays their last note, and then people start to grab their purses and head for the parking lot.

  “Ready to clean up?” I ask Brandon, ready to switch gears from princess to business woman again.

  “I am,” he says, “but you go home.”

  “Listen,” I say, “I know you’re a nice guy, but you can’t take on all my responsibilities.”

  He gives a little snort of laughter and kisses my forehead. “Go home, Jess. Have fun with Melissa, and get some sleep.”

  “When will I see you next?” I ask, giving up the argument.

  “Lunch on Monday when you get back from dropping Melissa off at the airport.”

  Every part of me is smiling—I can even feel it all the way in my toes. I like having plans with him. “Okay,” I nod. “See you Monday.”

  SIXTEEN

  My day with Melissa is perfect. It’s just what I needed. We sleep late, go for breakfast, take a walk through the park and then sunbathe on giant rocks in the Chattahoochee River. We talk and talk and talk. About her life in New York, about Kyle, about Brandon and Caroline and Kyle’s Kitchen. We reminisce on old times. And it feels like old times. I’m so sublimely happy, I’m worried that something’s going to go wrong. It has to, doesn’t it? According to Murphy’s Law, or something like that. But I shove those thoughts to the back of my mind. I don’t have room or time to go there, what with Kyle’s Kitchen and a blossoming romance.

  I smile to myself at that last thought.

  “What are you smiling about?” Melissa asks as the server at Cheesecake Factory puts our meals down in front of us.

  “Anything else I can get you ladies?” the waitress asks.

  We both assure her we have all we need, and then Melissa prods, “Go on.”

  I shrug, trying to keep the smile off my face. It’s not working. “Nothing.”

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  Damn her. We haven’t really known each other for that long, but she somehow knows me almost better than I know myself. Which is why we became best friends so soon after meeting each other at the restaurant where we worked together.

  I screw my lips up so she can’t tell I’m smiling. Of course, that doesn’t work either.

  “You do, don’t you?” She slams her hand down on the table. “I knew it. Oh, my god, I’m so happy for you, Jess. He’s a really nice guy. I couldn’t believe when he offered to fly me down. I mean…seriously! Who does that?”

  “Brandon does,” I say, pride nearly bursting out of me. “And, yes,” I admit for the first time. “I think I love him.”

  “It’s okay, Jess,” she says. “Kyle would want you to be happy, you know? He only ever wanted that for you.”

  “Stop!” I say, half teasing. “You’re gonna make me cry all over my pasta.”

  “Okay, okay,” she says. There’s a pause and then, “Can I say just one more thing, and then I’ll be done.”

  I eye her warily. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  “He loves you, too. A lot. It’s really obvious. God, the way he looks at you! It’s how every girl wants to be looked at. I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve gotten two men to look at you that way.”

  Crap. I feel a sob coming on.

  “If you feel guilty about Kyle, maybe you should look at it this way…” she says, softening her tone, “that maybe, just maybe, Kyle sent Brandon to you, because he knew he’d make you happy.”

  And there it is. I’m gasping for air and dripping into my pasta.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Great. The waitress is standing by our table, her brow furrowed with worry as she holds out a stack of beverage napkins. I take them and start dabbing at my eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I say, a giggle bubbling up over the absurdity of my Cheesecake Factory meltdown.

  “She’s in love!” Melissa shouts, and when the waitress’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and confusion, we both fall out laughing.

  “Really, I’m fine,” I finally manage.

  The waitress gives a little chuckle. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She walks away, and Melissa and I both sigh as we come down from our emotional highs.

  “Thanks,” I say once I’ve had a sip of water. “I really needed to hear that.”

  “Ya think?” Melissa replies, biting into her jumbo shrimp. “So, what’s next?”

  “Next?”

  “With Brandon.”

  “Oh.” I was hoping we were going to go back to talking about the business. “I don’t know. Second base, I guess?”

  “Poor, patient Brandon.”

  I nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside. He really has been a saint. “Don’t worry,” I assure my friend. “I’ll make it worth his while.”

  We laugh again, and dig into our meals. When we’re done, we split a slice of Oreo cheesecake that neither one of us has room for. Then we work it off at the movie theater, watching Milla Jovavich annihilate a bunch of zombies. It’s midnight by the time we get home, and Melissa has to be at the airport early, so we hit the sack. I’ve just started to doze off when the house phone rings, and a few moments later, Mom and Dad are knocking on my door.

  Melissa’s already asleep, so I hop out of bed and dash to the door. Mom is standing there, tears running down her cheeks.

  “Mom?”

  Dad puts a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “There’s been an accident.”

  The hospital isn’t too far away, so within a half hour of receiving the call, we’re standing in the hospital lobby. My heart is racing. I wish I knew what was going on. The fears, the memories, they’re all rushing back and threatening to overtake me. But I can
’t let them—I have to be strong. For Brandon.

  As soon as I think his name, he comes barreling out of the double doors that lead to the main hospital corridor. He looks pale and his eyes are sunken in and dark. I run to him and throw my arms around his neck. He squeezes me back as if his life depends on it. I can feel his shaky breaths every time he inhales. He’s trying so hard not to break down. That alone makes me want to break down myself.

  I pull away and put my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. “What happened?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know. All I know is that she was hit by a car.”

  “It was me.”

  We both whirl around to find a disheveled looking kid sitting in one of the chairs along the wall in the waiting area. He stands up and wobbles just a bit, and I immediately want to run my fist through his punk-ass face. But Brandon is already halfway across the room, his own hands balled into fists at his sides. Oh, God. He’s gonna punch that kid for real. And honestly, that kid is a lot bigger than Brandon.

  “Who the Hell are you?” Brandon shouts, getting up in the kid’s face.

  The kid stutters and then falls back into his seat. He looks a little terrified. “Owen,” he says.

  “And when you said it was me what exactly did you mean?”

  Owen runs his fingers through his already messy, dirty blond hair and ends with his knees on his elbows, face angled toward the ground. “I mean I was the one who hit her.”

  “Why?” Brandon growls.

  “It was an accident. I swear it!” Owen is looking up now, his eyes wild with fear.

  I come up behind Brandon and put my hands on his shoulders. He tenses at first, then relaxes his stance ever so slightly.

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” I urge Owen as I guide Brandon to a seat.

  “We were just having a good time,” Owen starts. “Too good of a time, I guess. When it came time to go home, Caro got in the car with me. But when she realized I was…” He swallows hard.

  “Drunk?” I provide.

  Owen nods. “She tried to convince me not to drive. Then she got out of the car and started for the driver’s side. I swear, I thought I had my foot on the break, but…Oh, my God. I can’t believe I killed her.” He buries his head in his arms as sobs start to wrack his body.

  “You what?” I ask, my stomach plummeting to the floor and every inch of my body going cold and numb.

  I look to Brandon. He deflates a little and takes a deep breath. “You didn’t kill her,” he says, stumbling a bit over the word kill. “Not yet, anyway.”

  My hand flies to my heart as relief floods by body and the blood starts to flow through my veins again. Owen’s head snaps up to look at Brandon, hope in his brown puppy-dog eyes.

  “I didn’t? You mean, she’s okay?”

  Brandon holds up a hand. “I didn’t say that. I just said…she’s still alive. For now. They’re doing all they can, but…Jesus.” Tears form in his eyes and I reach for his hand. I squeeze and then bring it to my lips, fighting back my own tears as I kiss his knuckles.

  Owen shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m going to juvie either way.”

  “Don’t say that, Owen,” I say. “She might be okay.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure this is gonna be the nail in my coffin.” Then realizing his poor taste in clichés, rushes to apologize. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

  It might have been funny if we weren’t all so worried about Caroline.

  When Mom and Dad arrive after parking the car, Brandon leads us down to the triage unit, where we can wait for word of Caroline.

  The hours drone on as we wait for her to come out of surgery, and it’s almost dawn when a doctor finally walks into the waiting room. His expression is completely passive, so it’s impossible to know what he’s about to say. Brandon is in front of him in the span of a heartbeat.

  “You must be her brother?” the doctor asks, pulling off his glove to shake Brandon’s hand.

  Brandon nods. “How is she?”

  The barest of grins spreads the doctor’s lips upward. “She’s stable, Mr. Todd.”

  The most wonderful words in the English language. We all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  “It doesn’t mean she’s completely out of the woods,” the doctor goes on, “but for now, she’s doing well, considering.”

  I glance over at Owen, who seems as if he’d like to kiss the doctor’s feet right now.

  “Can I see her yet?” Brandon asks.

  “She’s not awake yet, but I can let you in for a few minutes.”

  Brandon looks back at me, and I nod, encouraging him to go on. I wish I could go with him, but I’m pretty sure it’s only family at this point. I’ll be here when he gets back.

  My cell phone rings as soon as he walks out of the waiting room and I flip it open, knowing it must be Melissa, wondering where the Hell we’ve all gone to.

  “Hey, Mel,” I say down the line.

  “Hey,” she replies slowly. “Did the rapture happen in the middle of the night, or something?”

  “Even if it did, that wouldn’t explain my disappearance,” I say.

  “Touché. So, what happened?”

  I explain the accident quickly and then promise to be there to take her to the airport in an hour.

  “Are you sure? Doesn’t Brandon need you there?”

  “He does. And I will be. But I can’t let you miss your flight.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Brandon comes back in. He looks a bit shell-shocked, and it makes me wonder what Caroline looks like. He makes a beeline for me and throws his arms around my middle, holding me close to him. I stroke my fingers through the hair at the back of his nape. He’s scared. I’m scared. But I’m so grateful I can be here for him.

  After a while, I pull back. I really have to get back to the house to get Melissa. “Listen,” I say. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to get Melissa to the airport.”

  “Oh, God,” he says, seemingly taking a giant step back into the real world. “Of course. Go. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll come right back here, I swear.”

  “You’ve been here all night,” he says. “You should get some rest.”

  I caress his stubbly cheek with my hand and meet his sad, hazel eyes. “l’ll be right back,” I say, with a sense of finality.

  He nods, realizing he’s lost the argument. “Thank you.”

  And then I stretch up on my tiptoes and plant a kiss to his lips. I’m sure my parents are watching, wide-eyed, but I don’t care. I don’t want to downplay our relationship any longer. I’m not afraid anymore. Not of that, anyway. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing him before I get the chance to tell him what I really feel. I know better than most how fragile life is, how short it can be. I’m done pretending I can protect my heart from getting hurt. I’m ready to live again. To love again.

  SEVENTEEN

  Once I’ve dropped off Melissa and said a tearful goodbye, I head straight back to the hospital. Nothing much has changed. Brandon and my parents are still in the waiting room. So is Owen, but his parents have shown up now too. They don’t look like the kindest people, to be honest. The mother’s hair is slicked back into a tight bun, and she’s wearing an expensive pantsuit. The angles of her face—sharp and unforgiving—tell me all I need to know about her. And his father is one of those slightly overweight southern gentleman types. The kind who are easily disappointed. Poor Owen—I know I shouldn’t think of him this way after he ran over my boyfriend’s sister, but I can’t help it—his parents seem like real pieces of work. The kind of parents that make a kid want to rebel in every possible way.

  Brandon gets up to hug and kiss me when I walk in, then he promptly introduces me to the Ice Couple.

  “These are Owen’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sharp,” he says, and I extend my hand.

  “I’m Jessica,” I say.

  “We can’t begin to express our disappointment in
our son,” Mr. Sharp says.

  “Please,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to say anything. Your son has been apologetic enough on his own.”

  “Well, he’ll certainly pay for what he’s done,” Mrs. Sharp adds.

  I’m struck by an idea all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, would you give us a moment?” I say to the Sharps, and then I tug Brandon’s sleeve until we’re out in the corridor of the hospital.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask, before I launch into my idea.

  He gives me a half smile. “I’ve been better.”

  “Any more news on Caroline?”

  He shakes his head. “We should be able to see her soon, though. Depending on how bad her pain is, they might induce a coma, but I…I just want to talk to her. I just want to tell her I love her.” He blinks back tears and swallows over the lump in his throat.

  I grab his hands and squeeze tightly. “You will,” I assure him. I don’t know if it’s true, but we all need something to believe in right now. “Listen, this may not be the best time to talk about this, but I have an idea. For Owen.”

  “I have an idea for him too,” Brandon says dryly.

  “Yes, I know you do,” I reply. “But revenge is never as sweet as it seems.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I can dream, can’t I?”

  “Can I tell you my actual idea now? The legal one?”

  “Go for it.”

  “Well, I started thinking…Owen is exactly the kind of kid we’re opening Kyle’s Kitchen for, right? Troubled teens, one screw-up away from juvie?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “What if we put him to work?”

  Brandon’s hazel eyes go round and his eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to offer a job to the kid who nearly killed my sister?”

  “I know it sounds heinous, but it could count as his community service.”

  “What do you think my sister is going to say to this when she wakes up from her six-hour surgery that’s a result of him running her down in a drunken stupor?”

  I turn to the window and look at Owen, sitting there, so miserable. I want to offer him some hope. Some other option than juvenile hall. “I don’t know what she’s going to say,” I finally whisper. I feel bad. This probably wasn’t the time to bring it up, but I just thought that if Brandon was on board, we could tell Owen now. Alleviate at least some of his worry. “Listen, if you’re not cool with it, we can just drop it. Pretend I never said anything. Okay?”