“What a terrible thing to happen to anyone.” He pauses. “But El, this is not your fault. You can never control someone else’s actions. You weren’t the one who decided to attack her that night. Scarlette could have decided to leave whether or not that fight happened. What you feel comes from having sympathy for Scarlette. You are not guilty of any of this.”
“Is this why you ran out on her tonight, El?” Liam asks, “Because you felt gu ilty?”
I consider his ques tion.
“No. I’m not sure what happened to me when I was listening to her. When I was reliving it with her. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t think. I felt angry. I felt the panic of that night. All I could focus on was finding the person who was responsible for this. She doesn’t even know it was me who found her that night. I
couldn’t say a word. I didn’t want to believe it was really Scarlette it happened to, so I just left. I ran. Just the same as I did that night,” I say, rubbing my sore hand. “I never meant to walk out on her. I just didn’t know how to tell her I was the one who found her lying there. I don’t even know if she has any recollection of anyone carrying her out of the dark and bringing her to the hosp ital.”
“Scarlette is confused right now, Elvis,” Liam tells me. “She doesn’t understand why you left the way you did. She’s thinking the w orst.”.
“I don’t get it, El,” Phil says, staring dead in my eyes. “If you didn’t walk away from her that night, then why are you walking away from her now?”
“I’m impressed, Phil,” Liam j okes.
I am too , I think. Phil was right. I never left Scarlette when she needed me the most, I should have never walked away from her tonight when she was telling me something so personal. Paige was right too; that was a jerk move. I look up at the dark sky and notice it’s filled with stars, but Scarlette is all I see. I stand up, and Liam and Phil do the same.
“You have some damage control to do, Elvis,” Liam sugg ests.
With my head spinning in every direction, I take a breath in and nod in agreement. “I should go get cleaned up,” I say, looking down at my knuckles a gain.
“We are here for you, my friend,” Phil remind s me.
“Always, El. Clean yourself up and do the right thing,” Liam adv ises.
I watch as Liam’s royal -b lue beast drives away into the darkness, and then I make my way inside and straight up to my room to freshen up. Staring into the mirror in my bathroom, I remember the way my face looked that morning after I found her.
Scarlette’s face was unrecognizable that night. I can’t believe I have a name for the girl now, and that it’s the name of the girl I love! I place my hands under the faucet, letting the water run over them and gently rub the dried blood off. Then I lean down and wash my face—all I want to do is wash away the moments that led up to ton ight.
I walk back into my room, changing into a black long -s leeved shirt. I think about Scarlette’s hesitance to tell me her story.
Leaving her the moment she told me must have hurt her.
What did I just do? I love her! What was I thinking? That was Scarlette I carried out of the back alley. She’s the one!
I cover my face with both hands, and my heart fills with agony.
She’s the answer to every question I have. And she’s still here.
I did save Scarlette’s life that night. An overwhelming feeling rushes through my entire being, a sense of deep relief. I want to run out of my house as quick as I can to get back to her.
I should never have left.
Pushing myself up onto my feet, I kneel in front of my dresser and open the bottom drawer, shuffling through things until I find what I’m looking for. It shines like the moon did that night. I take it into the palm of my hand and shove it in my pocket.
Standing up, I see my father watching me from the doo rway.
“Not now, Dad. I have to go!” I say, running past him to the top of the st airs.
“Elvis!” He calls out my name in his booming voice, and it forces me to stop at the highest step with my hand gripping the railing.
My dad moves to stand behind me, but I keep my eyes looking straight a head.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says.
I wait without respon ding.
“The morning you told us about what had happened,” he says, “I drove to Burnaby hospital. I saw Scarlette that mor ning.”
Dad takes a deep breath, and I close my eyes and li sten.
“She was lying in her hospital bed, covered in extra blankets.
Her face was extremely swollen, and her eyes were sealed shut. My heart ached for that girl. I spoke with the nurse assigned to her, hoping to get some answers, but no one knew yet what her outcome would be. She had trauma to the head, some broken ribs, and was waiting on a blood transfusion after losing so much of it. I read her name and walked away. I never went back to check again,” he says with a regretful sigh.
“Why wouldn’t you have told me this before, Dad? Why are you telling me this years later?” I turn to ask him, tilting my head to the side questioningly without making eye con tact.
“At first, I just wanted to protect you. I saw how tormented you were about finding her in the state you did. That morning I thought if there was good news to tell you, I would share it with you. But she was in critical condition. I decided not to find out myself. I figured if there was bad news, I wouldn’t have been able to live with not telling you, and I certainly didn’t want you to live with horrible news ei ther.
“But then you started dating this girl. And when you told us her name, I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to meet her. After you brought her to the house, I thought, why tamper with fate? It’s
not common for lightning to strike twice in the same place. I wanted to see where you and Scarlette would take this.”
As much as I want to be angry with my father for not telling me this sooner, I hold back and try to wrap my head around his deci sion.
“Dad, I just wish I could take it all away. What if I’d never started the fight that night? Is that what made Scarlette leave to walk home a lone?”
“Only Scarlette knows why she left the banquet hall the way she did that night, E lvis.”
We’re quiet for a mo ment.
“You know, I used to be just like you, Elvis,” he says. “Your mother was this sweet, innocent girl. She was kind and giving, and we were both young. I’ve always loved her, and she’s always loved me back, even through all my craziness. Any little thing would make me rage back then, and nothing scared me enough that it could stop me from facing it head -o n . But then I wanted to be better for her, so I became better. If you want to love Scarlette right, then do better for her! Love like this doesn’t come often. When it’s natural, the way your mother and I love each other, it can last a life time.”
We both stay put for a minute, absorbing his w ords.
“I’m proud of you, son. You saved someone’s life that night.
She’s still here today because of you.”
For the first time in a long time, my father and I look directly into each other’s identical blue eyes and hold each other’s s tare.
“Go fix it with her,” he says, knowing that’s where I must be heading. “Be the right man for Scarlette. And be gentle with love, son, so it never breaks. The heart is very fra gile.”