“You ready to head home?” Dad clapped his hands, stepping into the room.

I nodded, not sure if it was true. The hospital felt safe, and I feared the moment I walked through the doors where reality waited for me.

“Come on, JayJay.” Dad picked up my bag of personal items they had brought over the weeks. “Your mom is talking to the doctor about your medications and physical therapy.”

I stood the same moment Shelly rolled in the wheelchair. “Your last ride.”

My lashes fluttered, and I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. “I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too, baby girl.” She squeezed me back. “But I am happy you are leaving here.” I knew what she meant: I had survived.

Shelly told me Hunter had suffered a pulmonary embolism, a sudden blockage in a lung artery. The cause is usually a blood clot in the leg. It was nothing I did or the doctors could have foreseen. It didn’t make me feel better, especially learning that during the three days since the event, he had been heavily monitored to make sure he didn’t fall into another coma. They had moved him back to intensive care, so I didn’t see him. Not that I wanted to.

“Let’s get you home.” Shelly pulled back, nodding toward the wheelchair. I climbed in, and she pushed me forward, my dad following behind.

“Hey, sweetie.” Mom came trotting up, a huge smile on her face. “How are you? Are you ready to go home?”

Of course they would ask me this, but I already cringed against the onslaught of dealing with the same questions over and over once I left these walls.

I smiled, and she clutched my hand, walking next to the chair. Dad ran forward, wanting to have the car ready for me at the curb. We made our way downstairs and out the doors. Our family Subaru idled in front.

“Keep me updated.” Shelly turned to my mom but patted my arm. “I’ve gotten attached to this one.”

“We will, Shelly.” Mom engulfed her in a hug, her voice wobbling. “Thank you. For everything. We couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

During the weeks of my coma, they had gotten to know her well. Shelly had helped them through all the hours of not knowing if I would wake up.

Shelly came around and assisted me from the chair as Mom dashed forward and opened the back door. Once I was in and belted, Mom gave Shelly another hug and climbed into the passenger seat. Dad pulled the car away, and I waved at Shelly. My gaze never left her till we rounded the corner.

I faced front, taking a deep breath. Fear of what was ahead of me shredded my intestines. I had always known what was ahead of me, my life and future planned out. Now nothing felt sure. I floated like a balloon, with no clue where I was going or how I felt about anything.

 

 

Mom rattled on, trying to keep the energy up in the car, but I mostly tuned her out, watching the houses rush by. Deep reds and oranges colored the leaves, falling from the trees like raindrops. The warm summer weather had changed into crisp autumn as I slept.

As we turned down our street, Mom interrupted my thoughts. “Everyone is here waiting for you. They’re excited to see you. To have you home again.”

My back went straight. “Everyone? What are you talking about?”

Dad glanced in the rearview mirror. “Just a few people to welcome you home.”

“What?” Seeing people was the last thing I wanted.

Dad pulled into our driveway. A huge Welcome Home, Jaymerson poster hung across the garage. Cars lined the curb all around our house.

“We thought you’d love to see everyone. Your grandparents are dying to visit with you. So are your sister and your friends.”

Dad set the car in park, ran around to my side, and helped me out of the back, handing me a pair of crutches. The doctor wanted to limit the amount of time I was on my legs. I swung them forward, my stomach coiling as we moved up the path.

No. No. No. My mind rang. I did not want to see anyone, but how could I tell them? It would hurt their feelings.

The front door swung open, and Grandma Penny, my mom’s mother, came running out, her arms spread open. My grandpa died in the war before I was born. He was who I was named after. She lived in Connecticut but came down when she could. Dad’s parents were right behind her. Grandma Nessa and Grandpa T lived in the college town where my father worked, only forty minutes away, to my mother’s dismay.

“Jaymerson!” Grandma Penny’s arms encircled me, pulling me into her. My other grandparents surrounded me and embraced me the moment she loosened her grip.

“JayJay!” My little sister, Reece, came sprinting from the house. Mom grabbed her arm before she barreled into me. Normally I would lean over and pick up her tiny five-year-old body. She was the smallest in her kindergarten class. Reece was a duplicate of our mother. With her round face, light milk-chocolate eyes and dark brown hair, she was adorable and could get away with manslaughter if she tilted her head and smiled big enough. Or pouted.

“Whoa, little one. What did we discuss?”

“Not to jump on JayJay.”

“Exactly.” The moment Mom let her go she came smacking into my leg, clutching it furiously. “Reece!”

I wobbled on my crutches, biting down against the pain and ruffled her hair. Then I leaned over and kissed her head.

“Missed you, JayJay.” Her dark eyes swelled with tears, and her lips trembled with emotion.

“I’ve missed you to the moon and back.” It was a little saying we had with each other. I nuzzled her a little more before straightening up.

Behind my family stood kids from my school, my friends, Savannah, Jason, Adam, Chloe, and my entire cheerleading squad. Also, family friends, and some of our neighbors were here. They all smiled with too much teeth and earnest eyes, looking as awkward as I felt. They waited for me to talk first.

I took a breath and forced myself to look up at everyone. “Hey, guys. Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.” The lie fell from my mouth.

A steady stream of people hugged me and smiled at me. I said either thank you or I’m good a dozen times over. I was a robot, my real emotions locked way down. No one actually wanted to hear the truth.

I was alive and walking. Sort of. I needed to focus on that.

It was a little chilly, but Grandpa T had the barbeque going out back laden with hamburgers. Drinks, snacks, and condiments were spread over the kitchen counter and dinner table. Music played softly from the TV. People milled around talking. My school friends quickly grouped around the sofas, eating and drinking, no longer paying any attention to me.

After a bit, exhaustion drained me, and I snuck off to my room to escape the parade of people and sympathy. I timidly opened my bedroom door as if I were a visitor, dropping my crutches against the wall. Mom said she’d only gone in to grab some clothes and personal items for me. I expected to see clothes flung over my bed, a whisper, a ghost, left of the night I went to the party with Colton.

But it was spotless. Like Grandma Nessa spotless.

She couldn’t help herself. Growing up with her had never been relaxing, unlike Grandma Penny, who encouraged me to be a kid and get messy. Grandma Nessa was a neat freak and always had her house spotless.

My fingertips brushed along my bedspread. The soft duvet was fluffed and neat. At first glance everything looked as it had before, books on the desk, jewelry boxes, knickknacks, and pictures...

Then I realized what was missing.

My dresser had been filled with pictures of cheerleading competitions and Colton. My favorite one was of us kissing the night he won state championship, the entire team cheering around us. Gone.

I limped out, ignoring the shooting pain in my legs. “Where are they?” I bellowed the moment I hit the living room. The entire room went silent, all turning to me. “What did you do with them?”

Mom moved toward me first. “What, JayJay?”

“Where did you hide them?” I demanded, anger flaming my throat. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Hey, calm down.” Mom rubbed my arm as if I were mentally ill. I only screamed louder.

“The pictures! You think taking the pictures of Colton away is going to help? Like if you remove him then he never existed? I would simply forget?” My voice was high and shaky. “I want them now!”

Grandma Nessa rushed from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be better if they weren’t there. If the reminder wasn’t right in front of you.”

“Why? You think this is a simple as out of sight, out of mind? Merely taking the pictures away would take away my pain?” Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back. She thought she was helping, but sometimes I felt older people didn’t think younger people experienced real pain or love. As though we could easily rebound and move on.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Mom spoke slowly and quietly. They were not used to seeing me angry or vocal. Ever. “She thought she was helping. Grandma Nessa will put them back.”

I took a breath, my gaze roving over the room. Everyone stared. All my friends on the sofa gaped at me wide-eyed, glancing at each other with a she’s losing it look.

Grandma went to the cupboard in the hall and brought out the pictures and proceeded to my room. I followed behind, the gawking silence burning into the back of my neck.

Mom helped me to my room. Grandma Nessa was already placing the photos back on my dresser. “There. Exactly where they were before.” She fretted with their placement. “I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.”

“I know.” I stared at the framed candid shots.

Gramma Nessa came over and gave me a squeeze.

I suddenly felt embarrassed for my outburst. It was so unlike me. “Can I have a moment?”

Mom nodded, then kissed my head. They both swiftly left.

I made my way across the room, standing before my dresser. My hand reached out, trailing over Colton’s face. His smile. His bright blue eyes. His dimple.

I clasped the frame to my chest. It was like a semi-truck unloaded pounds of wet concrete on top of me. My knees buckled and I slumped to the floor with a sob, holding the picture to my heart.

I understood intellectually Colton was dead, but the hospital was a strange limbo where I didn’t have to accept the truth, where real life stayed outside. A bubble. Being home thrust me back into reality, where I could no longer deny or push aside life while I healed.

He was gone. Forever.

Now that the pictures were back in place, I found I no longer wanted them there. Looking at them was like shredding my heart with glass. But at the same time, if anyone tried to take them away, I would attack them like a wild animal. Protecting him. Us.

A choked cry broke free. The body could heal, but the vast emptiness inside was beyond anything I could mend. It was too immense. A black hole. People could sympathize but could not understand. They didn’t like sadness; they wanted to move on and not talk about it. My sadness and I were one.

Music from the living room ventured into my room, snippets of laughter and talking mingled around. It made me aware I was even more like an alien. A foreigner in my body. Alone. The noise suddenly became louder, the whoosh of my door opening.

“JayJay?” My sister’s voice sounded scared and unsure.

I lifted my head. Once she saw my eyes, she ran to me. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

“Don’t be sad, JayJay.” My heart almost burst as this little five-year-old comforted me. “I loooove you.”

“I love you too.” I drew her in, burrowing my head into her neck. The smell of strawberry shampoo wafted from her hair. “So much.”

“To the moon and back?”

I pulled away, brushing her brown hair from her face. “To infinity and beyond.”

She grinned. “Grandma Penny made a cake.” Her eyes grew big and sparkled. “But we can’t have any till you do.”

A smile tugged at my mouth. “Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.” She nodded frantically. “And you can have the biggest piece.”

Her face lit up and she ran out of my room screaming. “She’s coming. JayJay says I can have the biggest piece. With ice cream.”

My sister could be a pain, but now she reminded me everyone outside those doors was here for me. I dropped a wall down on the darkness, banishing it away. I wiped away the few tears that escaped. I felt they were counting on me to make them feel better. To reassure them I was all right.

I pulled myself up, setting the picture back on the bureau. I rubbed at my cheeks and brushed my hair before grabbing my crutches and turning, heading out to my get-together.

I smiled, hugged, and consoled.

And I did it well.