Eighteen Ch. 17

Chapter 17 -- The Accident

Wednesday, March 2^nd

I park behind Nicole in front of the Taylor's house. There's a police car in front of hers. I look around but don't see any reason why they're here. Getting out of my car, I walk hesitantly up to the house and knock. An officer answers the door and asks who I am. I tell him my name, and Bob says to let me in.

Stepping inside, my eyes are drawn to the Taylors on their couch, with Nicole and Jesse next to them. A second officer is in a chair talking to them. Alarm bells ring in my head because I don't see Christina and wonder where she is. I ask the officer where Christina is and what's going on; he politely asks me to sit down. As I do so, I look at the Taylors more closely. Both of them have tears streaming down their cheeks. Then I focus on Nicole, who is pale, and her eyes are really red. It appears Jesse has been crying, too; her face is full of shock and sadness.

I'm worried now and ask again where Christina is and what's going on. Nicole and Jesse come over and sit next to me. I look at them and ask again. They take my hands and tell me that Christina's been in a car accident. The blood drains from my face, and I start to shake. I ask how serious it is. Nicole looks at me with tears streaming down her face and tells me it's severe. I look over at the Taylors and ask what hospital she's in so I can go be with her.

Jesse clutches my hand tighter and says in a soft trembling voice, "She isn't in a hospital."

I'm confused and look at the Taylors, who are sobbing heavily.

Jesse gives my hand another squeeze, puts her arms around me, and whispers into my ear, "Christina didn't make it."

My heart explodes in grief. I'm drained of everything that's in me. I can't believe it; it's not right! I'm trembling and weak as I look at the officers and ask what happened. They explain that a drunk driver ran a red light, hit the driver's side of Christina's car, and flipped it. They tell me she felt no pain, that her death was instantaneous.

I'm cold inside. Dark and cold. Dark, cold, and empty. And nauseous.

My head sinks into my lap, and tears pour from my eyes. Anger--stiff, cold, intense rage rises within me, more anger than I've ever felt in my entire life. I stand and ask where the driver is, that I'm going to kill him; I'm going to take his life as he's taken Christina's. An officer stops me by putting his hands against my chest and tells me there's no need because he died in the accident too. He guides me back to the couch and sits me down.

My energy drains; I'm utterly empty inside.

The darkness in my heart hurts. I've never experienced anything like this before; the pain is unbearable.

I look at the Taylors again and feel their grief. It isn't fair, I tell myself. This brilliant, gentle, loving, kind girl has been taken from our lives. I remember Bob explaining why Christina is their only child and how they tried for years to get pregnant and couldn't. They were finally able to have Christina but were never able to get pregnant again. I look at Mrs. Taylor and her anguish. Moving to sit by her, I place my arms around her and give her a hug.

Between her sobbing, catching voice, she chokes out, "It's all my fault. I sent her to the store to get a few things for dinner, and she was hit on the way."

THE ACCIDENT! I remember the accident I saw on my way to get my letterman's jacket. That was Christina? Why didn't I know? Why didn't I go to her? Deep guilt enters my stomach; I feel sick again and heartbreaking sadness.

Bob looks at me helplessly. Mrs. Taylor hugs me back, holding tight like she won't ever let go, and I don't want her to. Jesse has her arms wrapped around Nicole, and they're rocking back and forth.

The officers give us their condolences, hand Bob some papers, and leave. We sit there, sobbing...alone and barren.

The sickness in my stomach intensifies.

Thinking back to the last time I saw Christina, I gave her a kiss but didn't tell her how much I loved her. My heart sinks further, and my stomach is a bottomless pit of misery. I give Mrs. Taylor another squeeze. I have no words; I can think of no words; there's nothing to say, only deep, deep sorrow to feel.

Eventually, I ask what I can do, and they answer that there's nothing, nothing anyone can do. So, we sit for hours, but time doesn't matter; the only thing that does is Christina isn't here; she's gone...gone forever.

My sweetheart is gone. My soulmate is gone.

I'm lost. I'm alone and lost. I'm alone, lost, and empty. Utterly empty.

I know I can't stay all night, so I ultimately tear myself away and go home. It's gut-wrenching to leave, worse than anything, but I'm in the way, and it's better for them that I'm gone.

When I get home, Dad asks how dinner was, but I can't answer; When I drop onto the couch, he asks what's wrong. I tell him, and the floodgates open. I can't stop sobbing. Dad sits down and wraps his arms around me. This is the first time he's ever shown compassion towards me, and I sit there bawling while he holds me tight in his arms.

We speak of Christina and how I feel lost and empty. He tells me that I need to be strong for the Taylors and for her friends. That doesn't make sense to me; I don't understand why I'm the one that has to be strong. I get up, go into my room, and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling through watery eyes. Looking at the plaque that Christina made for me, I begin crying again. That day seemed like yesterday--a yesterday that was long ago. Everything I see and everything I feel reminds me of her. She's my world, and my world is gone.

Thursday, March 3^rd

My watch alarm goes off, and I don't know if I even fell asleep; I only know I need to pull myself off my mattress and go to practice. I don't want to leave my room, go to the pool or school, or anywhere else for that matter; all I want to do is lie on my bed and cry. Dad's words echo through my mind, and I realize that all I'm doing is feeling sorry for myself. I'm not doing any good just lying here, so I get cleaned up and go to practice.

When I walk into the locker room, I sit on the bench and drop my head into my hands. I know I have to do this, but I don't want to. The coach calls me into his office.

"What's wrong, Tom?"

I sit there staring at him, trying to hold back the tears, but it doesn't work. Seeing my emotion, he shuts the door and takes the chair beside me.

"Talk to me, Tom," he says. "Tell me what's going on."

Taking a deep breath, I groan as I explain what happened.

The coach exhales deeply and sits back in his chair. There's emotion in his eyes as he sits there watching me.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he says. "I didn't know." There's a long, silent pause before he asks, "How is Christina's family doing?"

"She's their only child," I answer. "They're devastated."

The coach lowers his head, and the heavy feeling in the room intensifies.

"How are you doing?"

I look at him, wondering what kind of question that is. He can see how I'm doing; I can't hold myself together.

"I don't know, Coach," I say. "I feel empty and lonely. I don't know what to do without her. She means everything to me; everything I've done, I've done for her."

The coach looks at the ground and then back at me. Then, putting his hand on my shoulder, he gives it a squeeze. I think about the words that just came out of my mouth and wonder how it's possible that a person, Christina, became so important to me in such a short amount of time. I think about how we met, how she helped me adjust to this school, how she gave herself to me, and my heart sinks again as the tears flow.

"Tom," the coach starts out slowly, "I need you to listen to me for a minute. What I say won't make sense right now, but it will as you think about it. There are basically two ways to respond to this tragedy."

I look into his eyes and see how earnest he is and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he says, "you can either give up and let the grief consume you, or you can honor Christina and dedicate everything you do to her memory."

That thought startles me: Give up or honor Christina. There isn't a choice here.

The coach continues, "What would Christina want you to do?"

"Not give up, that's for sure," I answer. "I know she wouldn't want me to sit around and sob. The last time we talked about our future, we spoke about going to college together, swimming, and someday, getting married."

His voice hitches when he continues, "Okay then...let's try something. It won't be easy, but let's give it a try anyway."

"What's that?" I ask.

"When you're out there swimming, think of Christina. Think of all the good things you remember about her. Let those happy memories engulf you and then channel that energy," he says. "Devote all your actions to her, to honor her, and be the type of person she'd want you to be."

I sit there and try to digest what he's saying. Instead of moping around missing her, he's suggesting I focus on what she'd want me to do and who'd she'd want me to be.

He gives me the option to skip practice, but being in the water, doing laps, always soothes me and helps me think, so I decide to see if I can do what he suggests.

It's challenging, but it helps to think about our happy memories, her smile, her twinkling eyes, and it's like she's right here with me. This brings a smile to my heart. It feels so much better than wondering what life will be like without her.

I come out of practice and see Jesse and Nicole waiting for me. Tears well up in my eyes again as I approach them.

"You came to school today?" I ask.

"Yeah, sitting around at home just makes me cry," Jesse says.

"It's going to be hard to be here without her, but I have to face up to it sometime," Nicole says.

We give each other hugs and walk to our classes. Nicole and I sit at our desks, and almost in unison, put our heads down to hide our emotions. Looking at the empty chair in front of me is unbearable. The teacher asks where Christina is, but I can't answer with the knot in my throat. I look at Nicole, and she's pale with tears trickling down her cheek.

Right then, a student walks in and gives the teacher a note. Color drains from his face as he reads it. He looks at me and then at Nicole and takes a deep breath. Then, with a slight quiver in his voice, he explains what happened to Christina. Everyone turns to look at her seat, but it feels like they're staring at me, and I lose it. I get up and leave the room. I need to be by myself, so I go to the library and sit at the back table where it's quiet. I don't know how long I'm there before a counselor finds me and asks me to come to the office with her.

We walk in, and Mrs. Taylor is there with Jesse, so I go to them and hug Mrs. Taylor tightly. I can feel her tears as my shirt becomes wet.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I had to come and tell the school what happened to Christina," she answers. "And to sign the paperwork for Jesse."

"Paperwork?" I ask.

They both give me a strange look and break out in renewed tears.

Jesse wraps her arms around me and buries her head into my chest as she says, "We didn't have a chance to tell you...or Christina," she says. "The Taylors adopted me. So I'm now officially Jennifer Taylor."

I'm stunned, and when I didn't think I had any tears left in me, they flow again. These are tears of happiness and sadness. Christina has the sister she's always wanted. But they couldn't tell her, and she won't have a chance to enjoy that new relationship. Jesse has a permanent, loving, and stable home. The Taylors still have a daughter. Taking Jesse in my arms again, we hold each other tight. I don't know what's more comforting, her holding me or me holding her.

The counselor asks us to come into her office and sit down. Jesse and I break our embrace, find chairs, and sit down. The counselor gives Mrs. Taylor a small stack of papers to sign.

"Why'd you need me in the office?" I ask the counselor.

"Because you can't just walk out of class," she answers. "And Mrs. Taylor asked for you."

"Tom," Mrs. Taylor says, "Bob, Jesse, and I need you to know that you're part of our family. We know you have a family of your own, but you're also part of ours. We love you like the son we never had, and we don't want you to leave our lives."

Mrs. Taylor gives me another somber hug as we sit there with tears streaming down our faces.

Saturday, March 12^th

It's been a week and a half since Christina's accident, and today is her funeral. The minister tells us that Christina's body was just a temporary home for her spirit. She still lives spiritually and has returned to God. I'm not a religious person and don't know about such things, but as I sit here listening, I really want to believe what he says.

There were times when we were together that there seemed to be something more. We connected on a different level, and we seemed to be able to communicate without words. Our feelings for each other stretched out and penetrated each other.

God, please let this minister be right!

Christina's grave is at Forest Lawn, on a hill under an oak tree, overlooking the valley. I'm standing here listening to the minister with her casket perched over a large hole. I'm wearing dark sunglasses so nobody can see my red, tear-laden eyes. Standing on my right is Jesse. I have my arm around her shoulders, and she's grasping my other hand tightly. On the other side of me is Mrs. Taylor. My heart breaks as I look at her. Finally, the minister finishes, and before they lower Christina's casket into the ground, I place some flowers on top of it.

I remember the one time when I dropped her off at home, and we said goodbye, and when she shut the door, it felt like a barrier to a void I couldn't cross. This is worse. This is final.

***************

Friday, May 20^th

It's been almost three months since Christina died, and it's hard...very hard. It's a chore to focus and keep up in school; everything reminds me of my sweetheart--all day, every day.

I ask my boss if I can work more hours and use that time to keep myself busy and my social life to a minimum. Graduation is around the corner, and I'm anxious when I think about it.

I'm looking forward to this summer when I go to college and start my swimming career. The change in scenery will do me good.

The university coach and some of the team members came to Christina's funeral, which was nice. There was a large turnout with all the people from school, the community, and her family. Even my dad showed up, which meant a lot to me.

Bob gave me a key to their house with strict instructions to either call him Dad or Bob and for me to call Mrs. Taylor either Eileen or Mom. They told me to come over whenever I pleased, day or night, that I was welcome. I give them copies of my work schedule each week, so they know when I'll most likely show up.

Dad understands and doesn't get on me when I come home late because I'm with the Taylors, he even splits the chores with me now, so I'll have more time to spend with them.

My friendship with Nicole has slowly drifted apart while Jesse and I have become closer. It's easy to hang with her because we aren't looking for relationships with anyone. Hell, I can't even find it in myself to go out and do things socially. It just doesn't seem right.

It's comforting when Jesse lays her head on my shoulder or puts her head in my lap. I probably spend more time at the Taylors than at home. Jesse and I always eat lunch together at school, and sometimes Nicole and Clark will join us. Jesse and I have become close, like brother and sister.

My swim meets went well; I won most of my events, and the coach continued to ride me when he saw I wasn't trying as hard as I should. Also, Jesse came to just about every one of my meets, which helped...a lot.

The university coach is understanding and calls occasionally to check up on me. I attended their meets as often as possible, and his pep talks were always inspirational and motivating. Now that the swim season is over, I've signed my National Letter of Intent and am locked into going to UCLA.

A few weeks after Christina's funeral, I asked my college coach if someone could take Christina's place to go to the university with me. He said yes, as long as they had the required GPA at graduation. He asked who it was, so I told him about Jesse and that she has the GPA but hasn't filled out any college applications. She's prepared to go to a city college for a couple of years and then transfer if she has to, but it would be nice if we could start school at the same time. He agreed and asked for her application, telling me that he'd take care of the rest.

Sunday, May 22^nd

Jesse

I'm stressed and don't know what to do. Mom and Dad are in the living room watching television. I'm afraid to approach them with my problem, but I have no other way to solve it. So, I take a deep breath, walk in and sit down on the couch opposite them.

"Mom...Dad...I have a problem I need help with," I say.

Dad turns the television off, and they look at me.

"What's the problem, sweetheart?" Mom asks.

"Well...uhm...," I have a hard time getting the words out. "Uhm...the prom is coming up, and there's a guy I want to go with, but I know he doesn't want to go and will be freaked out if I ask him."

"Oh, I doubt he'll be freaked out, Jesse," Dad says. "He's probably intimidated by you and is afraid to ask you out. But, I'm sure if you drop hints, he'll get the courage to ask you."

"I don't think so," I say softly. "Uhm...it's Tom."

"Oh!" Mom says quietly. "It's only natural he doesn't want to go given how hard Christina's death has been on him."

"I know, but...," I stammer. I have to get this out but don't know what their reaction will be. "Uhm...I really like Tom. I have for a while. I mean...uhm...even while he was dating Christina." I get choked up as I force the last sentence out. My eyes water, and I'm hoping they don't freak out. "I never acted on my feelings because of Christina."

"You like Tom?" Dad asks.

"Uhm...yeah."

Mom and Dad look at each other. Emotion shows in their eyes, and I can only imagine what they're thinking.

"Isn't there someone else you'd rather go with? I mean, that's going to be really hard for him," Dad says.

"Uhm...well...there are a couple of guys that have asked me, but I told them I wasn't interested in going."

"What about Mark?" Mom asks.

"Uhm...yeah...he's one of the guys that asked me."

"Oh. I see," Mom says.

"So...you really want to go with Tom?" Dad asks.

"Yes. I can't explain how much."

"Do you want me to have a talk with him?" Dad asks.

"GOD, NO!" I panic as I say, "That would be totally embarrassing. What would he think? You telling him? Letting him know I want to go with him?"

"Does Tom know how you feel about him?" Mom asks.

"No...uhm...I don't think so...No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. For all he knows, I love him like a brother and nothing else."

"You love him?" Mom asks.

"Uhm...well...yeah. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Jesse. He's a great guy. We love him too...not like you do, of course, but he's like a son to us," Dad says.

"I know...and I'm your daughter."

"Oh, sweetheart!" Mom says as she gets up and sits next to me, taking me in her arms and holding me. Tears flow from both our eyes. Mom can see how upset I am about this, and I know she's upset about it too.