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"What do you mean it was an accident?"
My best friend was in a coma. My best friend had been beaten within an inch of his life by a group of ignorant, homophobic, assholes. My best friend could die, and it was all an accident. Because we grew up with these kids, because they were star athletes in high school, because their parents had money. It was all a misunderstanding.
The flight to Vegas was long. When I got to the hospital, Joyce Cooke sat in the waiting room, looking almost as exhausted as I felt. She wasn't the first person I wanted to see. When she stood up to talk to me, I demanded her tell me exactly what happened. All that I was told over the phone was that there had been an accident and James had been involved, and it was best if I came home.
"What do you mean it was an accident, Joyce?" She was actually defending them.
"They didn't mean to," She said, almost in tears. Surely she didn't believe that. "These are church boys. They didn't mean to hurt him."
My tongue glided over my bottom lip before I bit down on it to keep myself from saying anything else. The more I heard her talk, the more I wanted to knock her teeth down her throat. "Where is he?" I asked her.
She gave me the room number, but not without having to fight her on it; I wasn't Mrs. Cooke's favorite person in the world. I paced outside the room for a moment, not wanting to go in. I wasn't sure what I would see when I did. From what I had heard, it wasn't good. I held my breath as I slowly pushed open the door.
"Oh my God, James." I let out in a breath. His once perfect face was swollen, purple, and dark red. I moved to sit in the chair next to him, and laced my fingers with his lifeless ones. "What have they done to you?" I asked as I brushed his bangs from his face.
The mascara running in my eyes stung like a bitch as I cried. Holding James' hand to my forehead, praying for some type of miracle. Praying that God would save him, bring him back to me. It was three days before Christmas. His birthday was in a week. He would be turning twenty-four. How could someone do this to him?
The door to the room opened and I sighed, wiping my tears out of my eyes. "Please, Joyce, can I just have one moment with my best friend before you ruin it?" I said. Only when I looked up at the person standing in the doorway, it wasn't Joyce. The dark haired boy quickly turned on his heel to exit the room. "Wait!"
He turned back around. I noticed he had a bag of chips in one hand and a can of Pepsi in the other. He wasn't a nurse, or any kind of hospital staff, but I had never seen him before. James didn't exactly have friends. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. " I just ran to the vending machine really quick. I didn't know you were in here."
"You're Alex, aren't you?" I asked him.
"You're Callie." He said back. I stood up from my seat and crossed the room. Without warning, I wrapped Alex in a hug as tight as I possibly could and cried into his shoulder. "It's okay," he cooed as he rubbed my back. "It's okay."
I shook my head furiously. "It's not okay." I cried. "Look at him, Alex. How could someone do that!? How could they hurt him? He's the nicest fucking person I've ever met and I don't understand how someone could do that to him."
"It didn't matter how nice he was. He's different. He's not like everyone else. People don't like different. Especially not people from these parts. They grow up being taught what's good and what's bad from a book that was written thousands of years ago. They don't realize that the world has changed since then." He said. I had managed to calm down some, sitting back down in the chair next to James.
"We had dinner plans, you know?" Alex continued. "I was going to ask him to move to New York with me. He always dreamed about living there. He called me when he left and said he needed to get gas, and an hour later he still hadn't shown up. Two hours, three hours… I didn't even know until I went looking for him. That was when I saw his car at the gas station and the police lights."
"He hasn't talked to me in months." I told him, though I was sure he already knew.
"He wanted to." Alex said. "He felt really bad ignoring your calls, but he didn't know what to say. He felt awful after he said what he did when you told him about the pregnancy." Alex trailed off, his eyes dropped down to where my protruding stomach should have been.
"Yeah, I lost the baby."
"I'm really sorry."
"Don't be."
After a while, I couldn't stand to see the sight of James, laying there on that cot. I joined Joyce back in the main lobby, despite hating her guts. Alex told me that she hadn't even been up to visit James once, since he had been switched to that room. I told him that James wouldn't have wanted her there anyways.
Overhead, more Christmas songs played. I was so sick of them by now. I texted Violet to let her know about James' condition. She wanted to come with me, but I told her to stay. I couldn't drag her halfway across the country with me when she had plans with her own family. I couldn't get in touch with Dean, but it was in the middle of the night, and he was surely sleeping.
"Right now it's just a waiting game." Joyce said to me after talking to the doctor. "You should go get some rest, Callie. You look exhausted. Do you moisturize? If not, you should. It'll help those bags under your eyes."
I let out a sharp exhale. "No disrespect Mrs. Cooke, but I'm not leaving."
"You didn't seem to have a problem leaving ten months ago when your parents died."
"Excuse me?" I asked her after hearing the comment she tried to hide under her breath. "You know what, Joyce? You've always blamed other people for your own problems. It was always James' fault for whenever something didn't go your way. You didn't have enough money to pay the bills? You blamed your son. Your cheating husband left you? Blame your son. Your son gets beat within an inch of his life? It's his own fault, right?"
Joyce watched me with wide eyes. "My parents died, but they loved James as much as they loved me. They loved him more than you ever could. I might not have been there for him these past few months, and believe me when I say that it's going to eat me alive for the rest of my life. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."
She sighed and sat down, digging through her purse. "Will you at least go get me some coffee from the cafeteria, then?" She jutted a ten dollar bill in my face. "Grab yourself something while you're at it. The longer you take, the better."
Lord, help James and give me the strength not to bitch slap this woman so hard it'd make her head spin.
"You look exhausted, Callie." I mocked her. "The long it takes the better."
I wish my mom would have slapped her when she got the chance. I wasn't lying when I said that she blamed James for her shortcomings in life. Joyce Cooke was a bigot, and a hypocrite, and she never accepted James after he came out as gay. It was a sin, and God forbid her son fall in love with another man. He had been that way his whole life, it wasn't a secret; but it struck a devilish chord inside of his mother.
Joyce Cooke, the portrait of a small town, backwoods church wife. She wore the cotton white dress and everything, with her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and face full of freckles; married to the church itself. You would think that someone so in love with God would be more understanding, but not Joyce. Everything was James' fault because he was gay. God himself was punishing her for raising a gay son. It only got worse when Mr. Cooke filed for a divorce. I would have too, if I were him.
I was so caught up in my hatred for the woman that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and collided into the back of a scrub-clad male nurse who was lingering in the hallway by the cafeteria. "Shit," I mumbled. "I'm sorry." I took a few steps around the guy and started off on my path again.
"Callie?" I heard from behind me. "Callie Jordan?"
My shoulder slumped. Perks of growing up in a small town: everyone knows you. I turned around to meet the man I had just bumped into. "Yeah?" I asked him, not really looking at who he was. I honestly could care less right now.
"It's me Jared." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "We dated in like tenth grade."
I narrowed my eyes at him. Holy shit, it actually was him. Douchebag Jared in the flesh, a male nurse, of all things. He looked different. Much, much different. He had swapped the scraggly, messy hair for a gelled back, sleek look. His acne was gone. He had somehow managed to grow a good foot taller. He wasn't all that bad looking.
"How've you been?" He asked awkwardly after my silence.
"My best friend is in a coma, Jared. How do ya think I've been?" I turned on my heel to keep walking, but he followed me. I wasn't in the mood for catching up tonight. I had done enough of that with Joyce.
"I heard about James." He said. "I'm sorry for what happened. I can't believe it. We went to school with those guys, Cal."
"I know, I used to do Tyler Hamilton's homework for biology." I mumbled. "I'd really rather not talk about this, Jared. It was nice seeing you and all."
"Wait, you look great." He was really trying hard now. Here I was hoping he'd take the hint. "I heard you moved to Vegas. How's that been? Are you seeing anyone?"
"Yeah, Jared, I am. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be interested in a male nurse who I'm sure still lives with his parents over in Willow Branch." I threw the door open to the cafeteria and stomped off, leaving Jared shocked where he stood.
The doctors said that we should all go home. Joyce was the first one to volunteer, complaining about how she missed her bed already. Alex stayed with James, telling me that I should go get some rest. The hotel I was staying in wasn't spectacular; a Motel 6 off the interstate. The room smelled like cigarette smoke, the blankets were itchy, and I could hear the couple next to me fucking every hour on the hour.
I alternated time at the hospital with Alex, giving him the time he needed to go home and shower and change clothes. The look in his eye told me that he didn't want to leave, just in case something happened. I tried not to think about that, though. James was going to be okay. He had to be. Even if it took years.
It was early, Tuesday morning when I got the call. Alex gave me the go ahead to leave, and I did. I guess I didn't think that it would happen so soon. I thought that maybe he actually had a chance. I knew it before I even answered the phone that James was gone. At the sound of the first ring, what little bit of the heart that I had left, felt like it had been pulled right out of my chest.
I didn't move for hours. Just stared at the TV that was replaying a screen of static, because the weather had knocked out the reception for the Dish. I didn't eat, I didn't drink, I just sat there, wishing myself back to February before any of this happened.
Wednesday morning came and went and I found myself driving by the graveyard where my parents were buried. It was Christmas Eve, and I sat outside the wrought iron gates of the cemetery, gripping the steering wheel. A light blizzard had began to fall, and the graveyard was illuminated with dim, orange lamp posts. I sighed, starting up my car and driving through the gates. I hadn't been to visit them since the funeral.
Two bouquets of Calla Lilies sat in front of each of their graves. They were dry, frozen, dead. At least someone was thinking about them. I kneeled down in the snow, dusting off the faces of their tombstones. "Hey Mom." I said, choking on tears. "Hey Dad."
It felt like I could feel them there with me. Like they were smiling at me. I know that's stupid, but the air around me felt warm for a moment. "Why'd you leave me?" I cried. "I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to be by myself. I needed you. I still need you. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what to do. Why can't you just help me? Why can't you just tell me what to do?"
My hands shook as I wiped the cold tears from my cheeks. The wet snow soaked through my jeans and my legs were numb. My chest hurt from crying and I couldn't catch my breath. I balled up my fist and hit the ground beneath me, as if it was their fault that all of this had happened to me. It wasn't.
Mom would say that it was coincidence or fate, or Murphy's Law; whatever can happen, will happen. Dad would say that bad things happen to good people, and use Jesus as an example; the man who was crucified for trying to teach and help people. I just wanted to know what did I do to deserve this? I looked up at the sky and white, fluffy snowflakes stuck to my face. I didn't ask for this.
I heard footsteps on the snow and looked up to see Dean standing there. My heart sped up and hot tears spilled from my eyes. I stood up, despite my knees feeling weak and numb, and ran to him; my arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he held me as close as he could.
"Callie you're freezing cold!" He said as I shivered against him. "Let's go, okay?" I nodded to him as my teeth chattered relentlessly.
Dean carried me to the car, turning the heat on as high as it could go. He took off his jacket and draped it over me as I tried to get warm. "H-how'd you f-find me?"
"You weren't there when I got home and Violet told me what happened. I got here as soon as I could and I went to the hospital looking for you." He replied and then let out a low sigh. "They told me what happened, and I thought about it for a minute and that led me here." He was holding my two hands in one of his, trying warm my aching fingertips. "Callie, what were you doing out there?"
"I m-miss them s-so m-much." I couldn't help but start crying again.
"Ssssh, don't cry." He cooed. "Just try and get warm, okay?"
The next day I woke up in my hotel room. It was Christmas. I might have been excited for the holiday a week ago; the thought of waking up next to my boyfriend, walking around in fuzzy socks, and drinking egg nog. In this moment, however, I couldn't have cared less about those things.
Dean was packing up my suitcase as I stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to move. All it took was for me to think about James even for a second and I would start crying again. His birthday was in four days. I should be with him right now, not here in this stupid, uncomfortable motel bed. We should be opening gifts right now in my parent's living room. This was wrong. It was all wrong and I did not want it.
"Stop," I told Dean. He looked up at me with a frown. "Stop packing, I'm not going anywhere."
"Callie, the funeral is tomorrow. We've got to get you home after that."
"This is my home." I said cross the room to stand next to him and began pulling the clothes he had just folded out of my suitcase. I threw each article of clothing as hard as I could at the wall and the suitcase too, after I was done. Dean tried to stop me, but my fists collided with his chest. "I can't leave!" I said through tears. "I thought that I could prepare myself for this by pushing everyone away, by distancing myself and running away from everything. I don't want to lose anyone else, Dean."
"Nothing can prepare you for that." He said. "But you can't stay here, Callie. You need to come home with me, and Violet, and Kyle." I shook my head. "Yes baby, please." He held me to him, soothing a hand over my hair as his voice calmed me. "You still have a family. We're still here."
"I don't want to lose you, too."
Dean let out a long, exhausted sigh. I had expected him to say that he wasn't going anywhere, that this would never happen to him, or Violet, or Kyle, or anyone that I cared about, but there was no way for him to make that promise without lying. That was what I needed to learn; with life, comes death. With life comes heartbreak, and anger, and sadness. But also love, and joy, and happiness.
"Now, put this on." Dean said after I finished crying. He held up a very familiar, sparkly, long sleeved red dress. "We've got a dinner to go to."
Only two more chapters left. Maybe three. Are you crying, because I am.
1. Winter Song - Sarah Dawn Finer, Louise Hoffsten
2. Blue Christmas - Paul Anka
3. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Christina Perri
Reviews are appreciated and encouraged. I love you.