I have never felt afraid.
I was never scared of the dark. Or bugs. Or cooties.
I have never had my heart skip a beat or have my knees shaking.
Now I have.
Sitting here in the hospital room, just feet away from probably the closest friend I have right now, I am scared.
I have to keep my hands squeezed between my knees so the doctor can’t see them shaking.
Two fatal wrecks in two weeks, and I walk away unscratched by both of them, loosing my family in the first and loosing my friend in the second.
I run my hands through my hair and ask God, “Why?”
Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Is this a test to see how long I can go before I snap? Am I the 21st century Job, and you are going to take everything from me?
I glance over at Camri for what had to be the hundredth time, looking for any signs of life.
Her leg had already been splinted, but she still has not woken up.
I remember her eyes, right before she went unconscious.
Scared.
Suddenly, the monitors start to beep faster. Her heart beat started to climb.
I slowly stand up, wondering what is about to happen.
So fast it started me, Camri sits up and gasps.
It was in that moment, I did not see my friend. I saw someone else.
She looks at the pipes and monitors she is hooked up to and starts to rip and tear them out of her arms.
“Doctor!” I yell out the hallway.
A nurse walking by stops and glances into the room. His eyes go wide when he notices what she is doing.
“We’ve got to knock her back out!” He grabs a tube and moves to hold it up to her face. She rips it off of her face, tearing apart the mouth piece and the tube.
The nurse fumbles as he puts it back together.
“Hold her this time!” He commands and moves to try again.
I take a step forward and grab Camri’s flailing arms, pinning her to the sheets.
In exactly seven seconds, Camri is sleeping again, as if nothing ever happened.
Slowly, I release my hold on her, watching her steady breaths.
The nurse leaves the room in a haste muttering about getting help for the pipes.
I, overwhelmed with emotion, lean down, pressing my cheek against hers. I bury my face in her coffee-brown hair.
Help me, God.
I stay there for a very long time.
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The next morning, I reluctantly walk upstairs, knowing I will have to deal with Caleb.
I vow to keep my mouth shut, no matter what dumb comment he makes.
Walking into the kitchen, I see Tesa and Caleb in a deep conversation. I sit down at my usual spot on the bench, glance quickly at the vacant seat that Camri used to fill.
What would she do if she was in my position?
What would I be doing if neither wrecks had happened?
How simple my life was before all of this.
“What happened to you? It looks like someone took your girlfriend,” Caleb huffs.
Tesa slams a spatula down on the counter and whirls around to face her husband. “Caleb!”
He holds his hands out, palms up, “What?”
“How cold hearted can you be?” I slam my clenched fists against the counter in front of me.
“Logan!” Tesa turns to me.
“Tesa, wait. We need to work this out,” Caleb holds out a hand in front of her.
“No, you don’t. You-” she points at Caleb, “go to work. And you-” she points at me, “go work off your anger. I’m done with both of you!”
Tesa chucks a set of keys at me. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”
Caleb glances over at me, unemotionally, then walks into his bedroom to gather his things.
I watch Tesa as she leaves the kitchen and walks to the den, tears streaming down her face.
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