Two
The stunned, grief-stricken gasps of visitors and patients reveal I look as mad as I feel. But I can’t stop. After I finished throwing up all over my now ruined gown, a sense of urgency passed over me and nothing, not even Satan himself, could stop me from charging into the hospital, desperate to see Sam.
My heels strike in time with my hammering heart as I pound down the long hallway, frantic to find my fiancé. Piper and my parents trail behind, offering words of encouragement, but nothing will ease the knot of despair eating away at my very existence.
A pretty blonde nurse sitting behind a large counter raises her head when she hears my stilettos stab at the linoleum. Her horrified reaction confirms that I look like the bride from hell with my smeared makeup, vomit-stained dress, and lopsided bun. But my appearance is the least of my concerns. On any other day, I would make conversation and ask how her morning has been. But not today. I sniff back my torrent of tears. “C-can you p-please tell me where S-Samuel S-Stone is?” My breathless tone is shrill, unlike me; therefore, my sentence is comparable to gibberish.
“Sorry?” she says, pulling backward as I prop onto the counter, ignoring social etiquette and disregarding her personal bubble.
“Samuel Stone,” I repeat, tugging at the pearls around my neck, as they’re suddenly cutting off my air supply.
When she continues staring at me, no doubt thinking I’m completely unhinged, I slam my palm on the counter, tears pricking my eyes. “Samuel Stone! Where is he?” She’s wasting precious time.
Just as I’m about to very uncharacteristically jump over the desk and strangle her, a warm, familiar hand rests on my arm, reminding me of my manners. “Sweetheart, I’ve got this. Go wait with your mother.” I don’t argue with my father, and nod a quick apology to the startled nurse. I’m appalled at my behavior. This isn’t her fault.
I wait on the sidelines and watch as my father calmly uncovers the details. When he pales, I cover my mouth, turning into my mother’s side. I know it’s bad, my father’s reaction says it all. “It’s going to be okay, honey.” My mom’s words are empty, but the false assurance is her way of saying there’s always hope.
But my hope is lost. I know nothing will ever be the same.
When my father walks over, looking solemn and grave, I hold my breath and internally count to five before I ask, “How is he?”
“He…” The pause is all the answer I need. “Let’s just go see him, okay? Kellie and Greg are with him.” I nod, my stupid veil practically highlighting what was within reach, but will never be.
The nurse buzzes us through a sectioned off ward to the left, most likely pleased to see the back of us. When we rush inside, the antiseptic odor burns my nostrils, but I don’t care. I will scramble through heaven and hell to find Sam.
My heels pinch my feet, slowing me down, so I stop, lean against the wall, and rip them off. Nothing will stop me from seeing my fiancé. My feet sing in relief as I follow my dad with a now quickened step. He’s looking overhead, ensuring we’re going the right way. The moment we see Gregory Stone standing in front of the last door on the left, we know that we are. His downturned face, unfastened tie, and disheveled salt-and-pepper hair reveals that whatever is happening inside that room can’t be good.
“Greg!” my father calls out. Our footsteps are in sync, reflecting our urgency to reach him.
As Greg raises his head, his grim expression brings on a fresh set of tears. His greenish-gray eyes—eyes so similar to that of his son’s—meet mine, while his lower lip trembles. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
I can’t stop the avalanche of tears. Will I ever stop crying? “Is he okay?” I manage to choke out.
Greg sighs, placing his hands into his expensive suit pockets. “We don’t know the extent of his injuries. He’s in a coma. The doctors say the swelling around his brain is—” He halts, shaking his head. He clears his throat, fighting back tears. “It’s too early to tell.”
Why did he pause? What was he going to say?
I don’t have time to question him however because Kellie emerges from Sam’s room, still wearing her navy Chanel dress, her long blonde hair snarled. When she sees us, she bursts into tears. Her onset sets me off once again.
“Can we see him?” my mother asks, filling in the blanks for me.
Kellie dabs at her blue eyes with a tissue. “Of course, but only two people are allowed at a time. Doctor’s orders.”
My father looks over his shoulder and nods. “You girls go in. Piper and I will wait outside.” I don’t need to be told twice as I hike up my dress, the wretched long train a hindrance as I almost trip over it.
Once we sterilize our hands, my mother pushes open the door while I take three calming breaths.
One…
Two…
Three.
I take one step, then two, and enter the room which seals this awful nightmare as truth. Lying in a single bed is the man I was going to marry. But that man, no, that can’t be Samuel. That man is barely recognizable as that person is more machine than man.
A loud beeping pervades the otherwise still air in concert with my breaking heart. My gaze takes in the unfathomable sight of my fiancé hooked up to endless machines. Tubes and cords are coming from his nose, mouth, head, and out from under his gown. An IV drip is inserted into the back of his hand, the saline solution feeding his wounded body.
If it weren’t for these apparatuses, it would appear that Sam is simply sleeping. He rests gently on the bed, his arms lying by his side, his legs covered with a stark white blanket. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe to see bruises and contusions? But I know, just as an unseen iceberg is dangerous to an unsuspecting ship, it’s what I can’t see that will do the most harm.
“Honey?”
My mother’s concerned voice whips me back into the now. I realize I’m slouched against the wall, unbelieving what I see. I don’t bother wiping my tears away as I know new ones will just take their place. “I-I want to talk to his d-doctor.”
She nods, brushing past me as she exits the room, leaving me alone with Samuel. It takes me a minute to feel confident enough to stand on my own, barefoot in my wedding dress, as I beg the love of my life to wake up.
Seeing Sam so still makes me physically ill. He’s usually such a vibrant, lively person—a quality I adore about him. You’d never catch him lounging around, reading a book, or watching a DVD. He would prefer to be outdoors, working on the ranch, walking our beloved Border Collie, Thunder, or playing ball. His downtime would be reading the paper. But now, I don’t even know if he’ll ever be able to do any of those things ever again.
I need to touch him, feel that this is real. I stagger over, my hands wavering as I reach out and brush the backs of my fingers down his clean shaven cheek. He feels warm to the touch. His short, dirty blond hair sits in twisted tufts, and I gently run my fingers through it, trying to comb out the snags.
“Please come back to me, Sam,” I plead, running my fingertip over his slightly parted lips, cringing when I brush over the clear tube. “Our life together has only just begun. I can’t do this without you. I need you. You can’t leave me. You’re my f-forever.” Every word chips away at the hole in my chest, and I’m afraid before long my heart will spill out onto the floor, exposing how it’s broken in two.
I slip my hand into his, remembering the feel of his fingers squeezing mine. But now, nothing. Closing my eyes, I place my other hand over our union and press, my mind happy to pretend that the pinch was Sam’s hand closing over mine. But I can’t pretend forever.
The door opens and I look up. I see a middle aged doctor in a white coat, holding a clipboard and talking quietly to our parents. When he sees me holding vigil beside Sam’s bedside, standing in my soiled wedding gown, his mouth dips into a poignant frown. “Ms. Tucker, I presume?”
I nod, hating how if life was fair, I would be Mrs. Samuel Stone by now.
“I’m Dr. Kepler. I’m so sorry about what happened to Samuel. We’re doing everything we can for him.” We’re all silent, waiting for him to decode what that means. “Samuel sustained very serious head injuries, and due to that trauma, his body has gone into a coma. The coma will hopefully give his body time to heal. It’ll also hopefully help with the swelling so we can determine the extent of his injuries. As you can see—” he steps over to a machine “—we’re monitoring his brain waves.”
I look at the machine, studying a faint line limping up and down.
He follows the sluggish line with his finger. “This indicates that thankfully, there is some brain activity present, but it does indicate that Samuel may not wake and be the person he once was.”
My father scoops me up into his arms. I lean against his shoulder, but his warm, familiar musky fragrance does nothing to soothe my pain.
“It’s still very early days.” I can hear the hopelessness in Dr. Kepler’s tone. “Like I said, we’ll monitor him closely. Once the swelling goes down, we’ll have a better understanding of what’s going on inside of Samuel’s head. He may need surgery, he may not. He’s young, fit, and healthy; the odds are in his favor. The rest is up to Samuel. Now, I understand his blood type is AB-negative. His blood type is one of the rarest in the world, so just for precautionary measures, I would like to have some on hand. What blood types are you, Mr. and Mrs. Stone?”
As they talk shop, my brain begins churning through everything Dr. Kepler has just said. It appears we wait, wait for my comatose fiancé to come to. But for how long? And who will Samuel be when he does wake? Peering back over at the near flat line on the monitor, I know that my Sam may never return.
I hear Dr. Kepler ask, his tone troubled. “The fact you have Type One diabetes, Mr. Stone, and seeing as you have a phobia of needles, Mrs. Stone, I need to know, does Samuel have any siblings? It may also be wise to have him or her on standby, just in case Sam needs a transplant.”
When a stale silence permeates through the room, I slowly pull away from my father’s cocoon, watching as Greg and Kellie uncomfortably avert their gazes. I know why, but this is literally a matter of life and death. Their differences now mean nothing because the only thing that matters is making Samuel well again.
Dr. Kepler looks on, confused by their sudden retreat, unaware of the big, fat elephant in the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Stone? Do you have any other children?” he questions once again. Kellie nervously tugs at her diamond drop earring while Greg clears his throat.
I can’t take it anymore. They’re wasting time. With a surge of confidence, I step forward, all eyes swinging my way. Piper and my mother nod, egging me on. In a small voice, I declare, “Dr. Kepler, Samuel does have a brother.”
Dr. Kepler looks relieved, while Kellie and Greg turn green.
I choose to ignore them as I add, “He has a twin brother. And they’re identical.”
* * * * *
August 4th 2004
Dear diary,
Something amazing happened today at school. Samuel Stone finally spoke to me. *sigh* It was by far the most exciting thing that has happened to me all week. After admiring from afar for months, I FINALLY got to talk to him.
I needed a copy of The Catcher in the Rye to complete a paper, which of course, I’d left to the last minute. I raced into the library during my lunch break, hoping to be hit with the creativity bat, but instead, I got hit with the reality bat when all copies of the book were out. I lent my copy to Piper, who was even more behind than I was, so I felt bad asking for it back.
While I was contemplating writing another paper on a different book, a fragrance which can only be defined as pure masculinity oozed through the air, leaving me gasping.
My questions were answered soon after when I ran straight into a solid wall of muscle. I yelped, apologizing profusely, but my apologies died in my throat when I was pinned to the spot by one of the hottest boys in school. His eyes were the most striking color—they were sea green, licked with a curving swirl of gray. He was tall—taller than I thought he was. And his face—total heartbreaker. At first, I didn’t know which twin it was.
Samuel was the cocky, arrogant jock, while Saxon was the quiet, arty type.
When a coiled smile touched his lips, I realized I was creepily staring, so I quickly stopped being a weirdo and smiled. I wish some kind of coherency followed that smile because when I saw a tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye clutched to his chest, I blurted out, “I need that.”
My cheeks instantly reddened as I corrected, “I meant, I need that book.”
I never thought a laugh could be sexy, but my opinion on sexy laughs soon altered when the hottie twin opened his mouth. “Well, in that case, here you go.” He chuckled as he handed me the book.
I looked down at it, focusing on his hands; the flecks of dirt underneath his fingernails making him appear even more manly. When he waved the book, highlighting that I was once again staring at him like a creeper, I quickly reached for it, accidentally brushing against his fingers. A zing, a spark, an electrical current zapped through me, rendering me useless as I dropped the book to the floor.
Absolutely mortified, I lunged for it the same time he did and we ended up bumping foreheads. As he reached out to save me from face planting, I felt that spark, those butterflies once again taking flight within my belly, and it took all my willpower not to turn to putty in his hands.
This encounter was not how I wanted our first meeting to go, but his smirk made me feel…beautiful. I’ve never felt that way before. I know I’m only sixteen, but Piper has made it to second base with two guys, while I haven’t even been offered a place on the team.
It was like I was in a movie. Staring into each other’s eyes, nothing existing but us. I nervously licked my lips, my braces suddenly sticking to my dry mouth.
“You can keep it for as long as you like.”
His deep voice reminded me where I was, and I smiled. “Thank you. I promise to return it asap.”
“No worries, Lucy. I know you’ll take good care of it.” He knew my name! It took all my willpower not to break into a happy dance right then and there. And how did he know I’d take good care of it? Has he been watching me?
I wanted to subtly ask which twin he was, but his confidence had me guessing it was Samuel. When he shouldered his backpack and I saw an orange basketball wedged inside, I knew I was right, as Samuel was the captain of the basketball team.
The bell sounded, ending our weird, yet electrifying encounter. “I’ll catch you around, little Lucy Tucker.”
*dies*
He stood, obviously waiting for me to reply, but I didn’t know what to say. I was still obsessing over the fact he knew who I was. He rewarded me with a dimpled smirk before turning around.
My mouth acted before my brain could join the party and I exclaimed, “What topic did you choose to write your paper on?” I wasn’t going to copy him, I just…I needed to talk to him one more time. I needed to know this was real.
Turning over the shoulder, he grinned, and I swear, I’ve never seen a more striking sight. “Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.”
I know the quote well, but somehow, it felt like the line took on a double meaning. I didn’t bother replying, as I’m pretty sure my response would have been, ‘I love you.’
He waved goodbye…that mysterious, dimpled grin the last thing I saw as he walked out the door. It took me about two minutes before I could breathe normally again.
August 5th 2004
Dear diary,
I’ve finished my paper, but I don’t want to give Sam’s book back just yet. The longer I hold onto it, the longer I have to gather the guts to talk to him. At lunch, I saw him enter the library, and like a complete stalker, I followed.
I watched the way he silently sat, contentedly reading whatever text book his head was buried in.
Piper’s words came back to haunt me. “Just talk to him. You’ve been obsessing over Samuel Stone for months. This is your in.” She was right.
With that thought in mind, I pulled back my shoulders and sauntered through the library like I was Cindy Crawford. However, when he lifted those eyes and met mine with confusion, I stopped, my confidence nose-diving.
He stared at me, and like a love struck fool, I stared back. I should have averted my gaze, but I couldn’t. I don’t know how long I stood in the middle of the room because time stood still. I was staring into the eyes of my future.
When my future smiled and waved, I internally high-fived myself and waved back. I had come this far—what was a few more steps?
When I sat down next to him, I was cocooned in his fragrance. It took all my willpower not to take a big whiff.
“How’s the paper coming along?” he asked.
I instantly felt bad for lying, but I couldn’t give up this feeling, not yet. “It’s going slow.”
Sam smiled and the earth stopped spinning. “I can give you a hand if you like?”
“Yes, I like,” I replied a little too quickly. In no way was I referring to the paper.
Realizing that him helping me with a paper that was already written was not going to work, I quickly amended, “Actually, you’re in my math class too, aren’t you?”
He held up his math text book in response.
“Maybe you could help me with that instead? I think I’ve got English covered, but algebra is another story.”
His laugh was deep, genuine. It sent chills all through my body. “Sure, I can do that.”
He hunted through his backpack, producing a notebook and a pen. “What don’t you understand?”
“All of it,” I replied with a smirk.
That weird static began bouncing between us, and when he leaned forward, I stopped breathing. “Well, you’re lucky I’ve got a free period. What’s your favorite number?”
“Seven.”
“All right. Let’s start with something familiar then.”
All I could do was nod when he smirked. I don’t know why, but being there with him was an occurrence I wanted to become familiar with—daily.
An hour later, I was no better at understanding algebra, but I was better at understanding my feelings for Sam were real. I was desperate to see him again, so I did something I’ve never done before.
“Did you maybe want to have lunch with me tomorrow?” My voice was high-pitched, completely uncool. Just as I was going to backtrack, embarrassed I let my fantasy of living happily ever after get the better of me, Sam nodded.
“Sure, Lucy. I’d like that.”
“Really?” I didn’t hide my surprise.
“Yes, really.” His response made me smile.
I feel so comfortable around him. I think its love.
August 6th 2004
Dear Diary,
Its official—I’m in love with Samuel Stone!
Our lunch date was just that— a date. I don’t know if Sam was aware it was just that, but to me, it was my first date, and it was perfect.
We chatted about everything—well, I chatted, and he listened. Just when I thought I was boring him, he’d ask me another question, appearing genuinely interested in my life.
The entire school was watching us. All the girls were jealous that someone like Sam was talking to me. But he didn’t even seem to notice or care. All he seemed to care about was me.
When the bell rang, I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I just spent the best thirty minutes of my life talking to the boy of my dreams.
Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver necklace. When he handed it to me, I think I actually choked on my raspy breaths.
So here I sit, fingering the silver seven around my neck, unable to stop smiling as I think about Sam nervously explaining how he saw this and thought of me. He played it off as a joke, saying it was a good luck charm to help me pass my test, but we both knew what this meant.
We both have weird, messy, inexplicable feelings for one another, and nothing has felt sweeter.
I’m never going to take this necklace off. It may (according to Sam) only have cost five bucks, but as long as I live, this will forever be my good luck charm.
August 10th 2004
Dear diary,
O M G! I went out for coffee with Sam!
I saw him in the corridor, basketball under his arm, and thought it was about time I gave his book back. I was wearing the necklace underneath my t-shirt, afraid Sam might have regretted giving it to me. But when he smiled and suggested I give him the book back over coffee, I knew things were never going to be the same.
We met at Starbucks, not the most romantic of places, but I was with Sam and I didn’t care. We chatted about everything—he said he’d love to go horseback riding with me one day as his family owned a farm. I realized I must have chewed his ear off about my love for riding on our lunch date, and suddenly felt embarrassed. I just felt so comfortable around him—like I could be myself and tell him anything.
He mentioned Saxon, his twin brother. I don’t know why, but I got the distinct feeling they don’t get along. He said they look identical, but on the inside, they’re nothing alike. I wanted to press, ask for more info because Saxon seemed really nice. He was painfully shy, and didn’t really socialize with anyone, but the few times we spoke, he was actually really sweet and funny.
After Sam made it clear he didn’t want to talk about Saxon, he told me it was his dream to get a basketball scholarship, and if he had his way, he’d leave Montana as soon as he turned eighteen. I tried not to look too disappointed, but the thought of him leaving left a gaping hole in my chest.
He completely surprised me when he said, “But things change. Maybe there’s a reason for me to stay.”
Could that reason be me? A girl can only hope.