Liv. I want Liv.
I concentrate hard on my mouth opening and after a long minute, it finally does. I force my tongue to the roof of my mouth and make a lul sound.
My mother squeezes my hand again. “Gabriel?”
“Liv,” I croak, and it feels like a thousand knives scraping my throat at once. I open my heavy eyelids, closing and opening them a few times, until I can tolerate the light. My mom is sitting in a chair beside the bed I’m lying in and my dad is hovering over her shoulder. They look terrible, like they haven’t slept in days.
“Mo-momma,” I mumble, feeling the knives again.
“Yes, bébé. I’m here. Daddy’s here too.” Tears run down her cheeks, but she wipes them away quickly.
A man in a white doctor’s coat is standing beside them. “Gabriel, I’m Dr. Franklin. Is it okay if I call you Gabriel?”
“Gabe,” I rasp.
The man smiles at my mother and father. “Okay, Gabe. Can you tell me who this is?” he asks, pointing to my father.
“Dad.”
“And this?” He points to my mother.
“Mom.”
He smiles again. “Very good. Do you know where you are, Gabe?”
I look around the room and see flowers and balloons that say Get Well Soon. There are monitors to the left and right of me and I’m hooked up to an IV bag that’s hanging from a silver stand beside the bed.
“Hospital.”
“That’s right. Do you know why you’re in the hospital, Gabe?”
I gaze at him, trying to remember what happened to me and why I’m in so much pain.
When I don’t answer, he drags a chair over to the bed and sits beside me. “You were in a very bad car accident, Gabe. You suffered a pretty serious brain injury and you have a broken leg.”
Car accident?
I swallow down the knives again. “My...throat...hurts.”
“You were in an induced coma for a few days. You were intubated. I know it hurts. That will go away.”
“Coma?”
“It was important to keep you sedated while the swelling in your brain went down.”
“We’ve been here the whole time, Gabriel,” my mother says, squeezing my hand.
My father winds his arm around her and puts his hand on top of hers. “You’re okay, son, you’re going to be okay,” he says, and tears fill the rims of his tired eyes.
I try to lift my hand under theirs, but it’s heavy. “Liv.”
“Do you remember anything about the accident, Gabe?” the doctor asks.
I close my eyes and try to think around the throbbing pain in my head, but it’s difficult to see past the dark patches that are clouding my thoughts. “My...car?”
“Yes, the crash happened in your car.”
I give my parents a worried look, but they just shake their heads and say, “It’s okay.”
“Do you remember what happened?” the doctor pushes.
I close my eyes again and try hard to see around the splotches of black. When I finally do, I see the road...and the deer.
“Deer.”
“That’s right, there was a deer.”
“Liv said you swerved so that you wouldn’t hit it,” my mom says. “It was just an accident, Gabriel. Just a terrible accident.” She begins to cry.
Liv? She was there? Liv was in the accident? I close my eyes and try to remember. “Liv?” My voice comes out a little stronger now.
“She was in the accident with you, Gabe. Do you remember that?” the doctor asks.
My heart thumps painfully against my ribs. I squeeze my eyes shut and try harder to see past the dark patches in my head. The memories start to come back to me in turns, each one passing in and out of view before my mind can bring them into focus.
We were at the beach. It was night time.
I see Liv smiling up at me.
Are you sure you’re ready to do this?
I’ve never been so sure about anything.
Oh, yes. I remember.
I hear the theme music from Jaws. I see Jeremy Black.
Gabe, that’s enough. Liv’s voice echoes through my aching head and it hits me like a cement wall, crushing me with the weight of a thousand cinderblocks.
Oh my God.
“Liv. Where’s...Liv?” I try to shout, but it comes out all slurred and slow like I’m drunk.
My mom cries harder and my heart slams against my aching ribs. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Where...is...she?”
“Liv is okay,” the doctor says. “She’s recovering on another floor.”
My heart slows, but warm tears rush to my eyes and leak onto my face, stinging my cheeks. I swallow against the knives in my throat. “How...bad?”
“She has a broken arm and a pretty deep cut on her cheek. She needed stitches and surgery to repair her arm, but she’s recovering well. She’ll be released today.”
I’m relieved that she’s not hurt worse, but it’s fleeting. The fact that she’s hurt at all is like being punched in the gut. A hundred thoughts race through my sluggish mind. Is she in pain? Is she scared? Is she mad? She told me not to race Jeremy. Why did I do it? I’m such a fucking idiot. Why didn’t I listen to her? Maggie and Duke must be so upset. And Brandon...he’s going to kill me.
Wait. “Brandon.”
Was he in the car too?
My mom lifts her tear-streaked face and wipes it with a tissue. She glances at the doctor and he stands up. Her eyes are filled with heartbreak when they return to mine. “Petit bébé”—she holds the balled-up tissue to her mouth—“Brandon”—she slowly shakes her head from side to side—“he didn’t make it.” She bursts into sobs and falls over me.
What? He didn’t make it? Brandon is... I can’t finish the thought because my chest feels like it’s collapsing on my lungs and the edges of my vision blur. Tears flood my eyes. “No”—I shake my throbbing head back and forth—“no.”
“I’m so sorry, Gabriel,” my mother cries.
I look at my father, disbelieving. “No. It’s not true.”
He looks at me with tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m so sorry. You know that”—he can barely get it out—“he was like my own boy.” He leans over me and cries hard.
Brandon’s...gone? He’s really gone? No...No! I choke out a painful moan and more tears burn down my cheeks.
My chest begins to heave uncontrollably, painfully, until I can’t breathe anymore. I gasp and try to inhale, but my lungs feel like they’re closing. I can’t breathe. I beat my hand against the rail on the side of the bed.
“Gabriel?” My mom lets go of me. “Gabe? He can’t breathe!” she shouts. “He can’t breathe!”
“Okay, it’s okay,” the doctor says calmly, stepping beside her. He picks up a syringe and pushes it into my IV. “You’re all right, Gabe. Just give this a few seconds to work.”
I feel my body relax almost instantly.
“I want you to take another breath now. Slow and steady.”
My lungs open and I suck in as much air as I can, ignoring the accompanying pain in my ribs.
“There you go. Slow and steady.”