Authors: Amanda Dick
She hung her head, her hair falling forward to shield her expression as she swiped a tear off her cheek with a quick flick of her finger.
“I always meant to come home,” he said. “I just never thought it’d be for Dad’s funeral.”
Her heart seized at his reference to Tom and the hole in her heart magnified. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him running a hand down his face.
“The longer I stayed away, the more I thought you’d hate me. And after a while, I didn’t think that coming home would do any good.”
The silence mounted around them. She stared at her drink, not having the strength to lift the glass and take another sip.
“It took me a long time to realise you weren’t coming back,” she said, her hair falling away from her face as she looked up.
The air around them crackled with words they couldn’t bring themselves to say, or hear. Sometime over the past few minutes, her anger had dissipated. The disappointment and betrayal, the heartache – all of it had gone, withered inside of her. What was left in its wake was an intense sadness, a longing for the lost years and the road not travelled. She wasn’t the only one who had suffered. He had suffered too, she could see that now.
Jack reached over to lay a trembling hand on hers. Her skin tingled, memories flooding back, stealing her strength and adding to the overall sense of emptiness.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “Please Ally. I’m so sorry.”
Jack sat at the table and stared at the space across from him that Ally had vacated. The sun had gone down an hour ago, plunging the house into darkness, yet he didn’t move. He could still feel her hand beneath his and he flexed his fingers, longing to touch her again.
His heart had soared when he had seen her standing outside the church, but from what he had seen since, it was clear that all was not as it seemed. He had been so close to throwing his bag into the back of the car and taking off again. And then he saw a car pull up in front of the house. He felt like a voyeur, watching as she got out of the car, walked up the front path and up the steps. His heart beat so loud in his chest that he thought it might break a rib. Yes, she was walking, but obviously it wasn’t as simple as that. She seemed to have limited control over her body and he desperately wanted to ask her about that, but he wasn’t sure he had the right to – and he was terrified at what she might tell him.
His self-respect plummeted to an all-time low. He had lied to her by omission. That wasn’t part of his plan. He had planned to tell her the truth, he was going to lay it at her feet and let her decide then if she would forgive him or not. He had not planned to give her half-truths and echoes.
What have I done?
After everything that had happened over the past few days, all his noble intentions, his promises to his father, the bargains he made with himself, why lie now? Why not tell her the truth – all of it? The answer seemed simple enough: what if, when she knew the truth, she turned him away? It was as if he had returned to the same crossroads of four years earlier. Stay or go?
She didn’t want to talk about the accident at all – she barely mentioned it, she said she didn’t remember it. Was that a blessing or a curse? She wasn’t angry about it either, she was angry that he had left the way he did, without saying goodbye. He groaned, berating himself once again. If only he had stayed and talked to her then. Maybe she would have forgiven him. Maybe she would have hated him even more. Maybe she still would, when he told her the truth now.
He had to make her understand, but the idea was a lot simpler than the reality. He wished his father were here. He longed for his phone to ring, to hear his father’s voice one more time. He needed help to get through this.
A knock on the door startled him. If Ally had come back, he needed to tell her now, before he lost his nerve. He pushed the chair back and headed for the front door, flicking on the porch light on the way. Readying himself mentally, he opened the door.
“I thought I made myself clear earlier,” Callum said, his voice laced with anger.
Jack’s heart sank.
“I told you to stay the hell away from her, didn’t I?”
“I don’t want to fight again,” Jack sighed. “It’s been a long day. Can’t we just take this up again tomorrow?”
“What was she doing here? What did you say to her?”
“She came to me – I didn’t go to her,” he frowned, shifting his weight as he made the connection. “And how the hell did you know she was here anyway, are you stalking me?”
Callum just raised his eyebrows.
“You’re
stalking
me?” Jack was incredulous, his blood boiling.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Callum huffed, planting his feet on the doorstep. “I saw her car outside earlier. I want to know what you said to her.”
“You want to know if I told her about what happened that night.”
Callum glared at him.
“The answer is no, I didn’t. But why the hell didn’t you? You were there, you knew.”
“Because it wasn’t my place to tell her – it was yours.”
“Jesus, Callum! You just let her think God knows what, all this time?”
“What the hell do you care what she thought? You weren’t here, remember? I didn’t tell her because what the hell would be the point?”
“What would be the point?” Jack repeated indignantly. “She would’ve known the truth!”
“That you were a coward? She figured that one out for herself when she woke up and you were gone!”
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but Callum cut him off.
“Don’t you dare come back here and start blaming me or anyone else! No one told you to go – you made that choice yourself! You did the wrong thing then and by coming back now and stirring it all up again, all you’re doing is making it worse. You’re here for your own selfish reasons, not because of Tom or because of her!”
“I’m trying to make it right!”
“How?”
Jack was dumbfounded, knowing that he had asked himself that question a million times and come up empty.
“She doesn’t need you anymore. The best thing you can do now is just crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and leave her alone.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere, not this time.”
“That’s your master plan? Seriously?”
Jack glared at him in silence, his anger mounting.
“Oh come on – you gotta admit, that’s a reckless statement, especially for you. You disappear when the going gets tough, remember?”
“That’s not what happened and you know it.”
“Do I? Because that’s what it looked like from where I was standing!”
“You know damn well why I left!” Jack blurted out. “You knew what I did – you were there!”
“Yeah, I knew what you did – big deal! You were trying to save her life, she wouldn’t have blamed you!” he said hotly. “You did the wrong thing, Jack, you should’ve stayed.”
Jack stared at him, his heart racing. He thought about the relationship they used to have, how close they were. Like brothers. And now this – strangers. Worse than that; enemies.
“I made a mistake. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Callum shook his head, eyeballing Jack as he took a step backwards, forcing his hands back into his pockets.
“Here’s the thing, you made your choice, now you have to live with it, just like the rest of us. You can’t change what happened, and if you stick around you’re only gonna hurt her again. Is that what you want?”
Jack opened his mouth to reply but Callum wasn’t finished.
“She was just starting to get her life back together, after everything she’s been through. Don’t rip it all apart again,” he pleaded quietly. “Do the right thing this time – leave.”
Devastated, Jack couldn’t think of a single thing to say in reply. He watched Callum walk down the steps and along the street to his car, get in and drive away. He was still standing frozen in the doorway, watching the space where Callum’s car had been, several minutes later.
“
Your future is not determined by others but by your own choices - the choices you make today and tomorrow.
”
- Maori Proverb
The morning sun splashed columns of light across Ally’s living room. From her place on the floor, she watched the light play across the wooden beams above her and tried to recall every word of her conversation with Jack the day before.
She spent half the night sitting at her dining room table, trying to imagine just what Jack might have been going through over the past four years. It was clear he was a changed man and, except for that brief glimpse, the fact that she couldn’t see beyond the façade bothered her.
Callum knelt beside her on the floor, gently manipulating her right leg at the knee before pushing it up towards her hips and then back down again. The usual feeling of detachment gnawed at her. He might as well have been holding someone else’s leg in his hands, for all the sensation she felt. She had a friend from rehab who had sensation below his injury point, although he had no movement. She often wondered if that would be better or worse than the numbness. Her friend suffered with spasms, whereas she did not. Perhaps it was some kind of cosmic balancing act? Either way, facts were facts. Wishing things were different didn’t change anything.
Should she tell Callum about her conversation with Jack last night? After his heartfelt apology this morning, she wanted to, but now he seemed so withdrawn. She couldn’t blame him. The funeral yesterday was brutal, on all of them.
He laid her right leg down on the mat and picked up the left, positioning it carefully in both hands before repeating the motion: bend knee, push towards hips, lower leg to mat, repeat. Range-of-motion exercises were necessary to keep her lower body supple and healthy. They were as much a part of her regular routine as massage, swimming, pain meds and everything else. She thought that it would get easier to take over time, just like the other aspects of her new life. Only it hadn’t. It did make it easier that Callum had offered to do them with her, but that didn’t take away the dull ache in the pit of her stomach as she watched him push and pull, rotate and extend. Annoyed with herself, she pushed the self-pitying thoughts away once again. She had fallen down that pit once before. Never again.
“I saw your car outside Tom’s place yesterday.”
She looked down at him sharply. He had laid her leg back on the mat and was sitting on the floor at her feet, staring at her. She felt as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I came over to talk to you last night, after what happened at the funeral. I wanted to apologise again. I drove by Tom’s place on the way home.”
“I’m sorry,” she adjusted her arm beneath the pillow, suddenly uncomfortable. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you... and I didn’t want you to get mad.”
“I’m not mad, I just don’t get it. One minute you don’t want to see him, the next minute you’re going over there?”
She blinked back tears.
His expression softened as he got to his feet. “Come on, we’re done here. Let’s get you up off the floor.”
She sniffed and sat up, grateful for the distraction. Callum pulled her wheelchair closer and she reached back for it, adjusting its angle to her body and pulling on the brake. Bending her knees and pulling her legs in close to her body, she counted silently, pushing herself upwards on the count of three and aiming her backside towards the seat.
Callum rolled up the yoga mat and set it down on the table behind him.
“I needed to see him,” she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. “I needed to talk to him about what happened.”
“I get that. It was probably the right thing to do.”
“Was it?” she murmured, fighting back tears. “I’m not so sure anymore.”
He walked over to the armchair and sank into it wearily. She turned her chair to follow him, trying to rein in her fears.
“I thought it would help,” she said, trying her best to put her fears into words. “I thought that if I told him how much it hurt, it would feel better – to have said it, owned it like that. And I thought maybe if he told me why he left, I could deal with it and put it behind me.”
“Do you?” he asked quietly. “Feel better, I mean?”
“No. Not really. I didn’t get any answers, either. Just a boatload more questions.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head, trying to unwrap it all over again and failing miserably. “It didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t blame him for the accident. He still said he felt responsible for what happened, that’s why he left. I kinda guessed that part already.”
“No surprises there, then.”
“I guess not,” she said, fidgeting with her grandmother’s ring. “I just get the feeling there’s more to it, that there’s something he’s not telling me.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot he’s not telling you.”
She winced.
“Look,” he said, leaning forward. “Here’s a recap of the situation – he left four years ago and he only came back for Tom’s funeral. Does he feel guilty about that? Sure, why not. But did he even try to call you or me or anyone apart from Tom in the past four years? Did he make any effort at all to come home during that time? No, because he didn’t give a shit. I know it hurts like hell, and I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I don’t know about you, but I’m all out of second chances. I don’t think he deserves one, not after that.”
“I know how you feel about him. I know how much it hurt when he –“
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not just about me. I wasn’t the only one he left behind.”
“Yeah, well, you were the only one he left behind in the ICU.”
She felt as if she’d been kicked in the chest.
He ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured, trying hard to recover. “You’re right.”
And he was, but that was only part of the problem. She could feel herself losing ground, the past and present overlapping, getting mixed up in her head. Just a week ago, things had seemed so simple.
Callum was staring at her, waiting. Suddenly she felt guilty. He didn’t need this. She sat up straight, taking a deep breath and conjuring up a fleeting smile that she hoped would be convincing.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s all water under the bridge. What’s done is done.”
Internally, she cringed at the forced indifference in her voice. He wouldn’t be fooled. She would have to make more of an effort. She opted for a diversionary tactic, giving herself time to get herself together.
“I need coffee. You want one?” she asked.
She didn’t wait for a response, turning abruptly to head for the kitchen.
Four Years Earlier
The impact was mind-blowing, sending a shuddering jolt throughout his entire body that turned his limbs to jelly. Time stopped as they skidded across the road, the buzzing in his ears blocking everything else out. Then they were upside down. He squinted out through the windshield, his brain struggling to process what was happening. He felt as if he was moving simultaneously in slow-motion and fast-forward and it crossed his mind that this might be how he died. A strange calmness washed over him. His fate was completely out of his hands.
The car suddenly bounced as it left the road, ripping through a fence, the trees ahead rapidly filling the windshield as he mentally braced himself for the impact. The crazy rollercoaster ride ended as abruptly as it had begun, jolting him again, throwing a spear of pain through his shoulder and neck that momentarily left him breathless.
And then there was silence. Buzzing, humming, vibrating silence.
He hung by his seatbelt, upside down, for several moments as his mind and body tried to comprehend and compensate.
“Callum?”
He didn’t even sound like himself, his voice cracked and strained. He tried to ignore the fact as he reached behind him for Ally. His sense of direction was wonky and he watched his hand waver in mid-air, mesmerised for a moment, before terror took over.
“Callum? Ally!”
The silence buzzed in his ears as he reached for Callum, the seat belt restricting his movements. Gravity toyed with him. He took a moment to draw a deep breath and assess the situation, forcing the panic down into his gut. His hand groped blindly at his waist, finding the seat belt release and popping it open. He collapsed heavily onto the inside roof of the car, a low groan escaping as a stabbing pain shot through his shoulder. He tried to breathe through the heavy air, something sharp digging into his knee.
“Callum?”
He was unconscious, hanging limply in his seat. Reaching over with trembling fingers to feel the pulse in Callum’s neck, he almost cried with relief.
“Thank God.” His heart raced wildly. “Come on, wake up… ”
Turning his attention to the back seat now, he saw Ally. She was also suspended by her seat belt, long dark hair covering her face. Her arms and legs dangled, giving the illusion of a rag doll. He twisted around, pain shooting through his arm and shoulder as he jammed himself between the seats, reaching through her hair to feel for the pulse in her neck, praying under his breath the whole time. Finding it at last, he fought back tears of relief.
He had never felt so alone and so helpless in his life. A constant hum filled his head until he could barely think straight. None of this seemed real. They were coming home from the concert. They were safe. They were together. So what had just happened? He had to get them out of there, had to get them to safety and call for help.
“Callum, wake up. Come on man, please – I need your help!” The panic in his voice scared him as he shook Callum’s arm. “Callum!”
Callum stirred and the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding escaped in a rush.
He shook Callum’s arm again. “Hey! Come on, wake up!”
Callum groaned, feebly pushing Jack’s hand away.
“The car flipped,” Jack breathed. He shook Callum’s arm again and Callum offered resistance this time, pulling his arm away.
“What happened?” he mumbled hazily. “Oh man, my head… ”
“Another car hit us. We’re upside down. I’m gonna try and release your seatbelt, but you’re gonna have to help me here. Brace yourself – hey, can you hear me?”
“What? Yeah. I’m here. I’m okay,” he mumbled, sounding a plane ride and a taxi journey away from okay.
“You’re gonna have to brace yourself – stay with me. Do you think you can stop yourself from hitting the deck?”
Jack twisted around to get into a better position. He leveraged himself, reaching around Callum to fumble blindly for the release button.
“You okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, wanting to keep him talking in the meantime. His shoulder cried out with every move he made but he gritted his teeth against the pain.
“No, I think I’m okay,” Callum mumbled, both arms reaching down to brace for the landing. “The car flipped?”
Jack grimaced, reaching over as far as he could, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.
“Yeah, looks like it,” he grunted, finally getting his fingers to work. “Okay, I got it. You ready for this?”
“Yeah.”
“On three, okay? One, two… three.”