AN: it's been a little while. December is a really busy month, add in a large dollop of writer's block and there you go. Apologies. But, I really hope you like it.

Thanks to the usual suspects: Monica for working her magic; May, Ciara, Heather, Jo, Marie and Maria who offer their wisdom and thoughts. They wanted me to keep one line at the bottom. I'll let you guess which one it is 😉

Hope you're all keeping safe xo.

Chapter 26

"Let me get this straight; you've ditched Ben?"

I falter, scrabbling around in my jewelery box, fingers landing on a gold heart necklace Mom and Dad bought me for my sixteenth birthday.

"Ditched sounds harsh. I said we should be friends… that my head's not really straight at the moment."

It's not untrue. I spin around on my chair, facing Heidi. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, she looks skyward as she applies mascara generously to her lashes, a compact mirror held up to her face.

"And how'd he take that?"

"He gets it, I think. He's been messaging a lot though."

"Maybe he's hoping you'll change your mind?" She snaps the compact shut and scrutinizes me.

"Maybe."

I loop the gold chain around my neck and push myself back around to face the mirror so I can fasten it. I'm not going to change my mind. As lovely as Ben is, as nice as he is... I'm not ready for what he wanted.

I'm not sure what I'm ready for.

It takes me a couple of tries to catch the fastening, still struggling with fine motor movements in my hand.

It'll improve according to Austin.

Everything will.

And everything has.

Slowly but surely, taking baby steps toward what I consider normal.

Like tonight; gigs were such a huge part of our friendship before the accident. Going to one again feels like we're reclaiming that part of our lives again. At least for me, anyway.

"Do I look okay?" I smooth my skirt down, looking down at the ancient Led Zeppelin band t-shirt I rescued from Mom's Goodwill pile.

Heidi smiles, gesturing for me to stand up.

"Do a twirl," she says, rotating her hand.

I have to think about my feet before I do it, and even then it feels like the clumsiest, slowest twirl in the whole world.

"Beautiful." She stands and gently pulls at the neck of my shirt until it's hanging off one shoulder. "Jasper would've loved this."

"I know." I fiddle with the necklace, twisting the gold heart between my fingers, smooth and flat. "He was the first person I thought of when I rescued it."

"Maybe it's a sign from him."

My face screws up. "Do you really believe in that kind of stuff?"

"Energy has to go somewhere," she tells me, eyes darting away to the wall of photos and Post-It's by my bed. "Why not? People experience things like this all the time, right? It can't all be coincidence."

"Mmm."

"Did you?" she asks. "Have any of that? Seeing the light? Life flashing before your eyes kinda thing?"

"Um… Not that I remember. Why?"

"I watched a documentary the other day, and it was really interesting. Stories from people who'd had near-death experiences. Some of them claimed to have left their bodies."

She looks at me expectantly, and I have to laugh.

"I don't know. I'm really cynical about that kinda thing. I have a reoccurring dream, and that's it. And I don't know whether it's a dream or not."

Sitting down again, I run the tip of my index finger along the scar on my leg, staring at the thick, shiny, red line that cuts through it.

"What happens in your dream?" Heidi prompts, settling back on my bed, hand finding the picture of Edward and me from between books on my bedside table. She pulls it out and examines it, and I have to stop myself from telling her to put it back. It's irrational, but it's all I have.

Heidi glances up at me, unaware.

"I think I hear Jasper and Rose. And I think it's the EMT's yelling about getting me out, and then there's just… noise. Like, a whole lot of noise."

"The cutting equipment? The helicopter?"

"Probably?"

"Anything else? Like, can you remember anything while you were in the coma at all?"

I shake my head.

"No. There's nothing."

"And when you woke up? What was that like?"

I glance sideways at her. "What's with the questions?"

Heidi raises her shoulders. "You've never talked about it. Sometimes it's good to talk about it, right? And I'm curious."

She's right. I don't talk about it. I have some recollections of waking but, like a lot of the time in hospital, I'm not sure I'm remembering them right, or whether I've fabricated them.

"Tell me what you think you remember then," Heidi says, when I tell her that.

"Okay," I begin, unsure. "Um, so it wasn't like I was awake-awake straight away. It happened over days. There're flashes of the room and people talking to me, but I couldn't make sense of anything. So that happened on and off. Everything hurt… breathing. Even blinking." I trail off, fidgeting until Heidi probes for more. "The first lucid moment I properly had… I woke up and Edward was sleeping in the chair next to me. I panicked because I didn't know who he was. I had no idea what had happened, no matter how many times Mom and Dad told me. I was so upset—accused them of lying, making things up. Mom said I even asked for Jamie."

Heidi's face screws up. "That's—"

"I know," I interrupt. "But I didn't remember anything from before graduation at that point. Being told there was a whole chunk of my life I couldn't remember was terrifying."

"But you do now?"

"I think so. I'm not sure if it's everything… but how would I know? The accident and the couple of days before the accident I have no recollection of, and then there's nothing for a while after. It's weird."

Heidi flips the photo of Edward and me over, a frown on her face. She glances back up at me.

"Have you?"

"Have I what?'

"Texted him yet?"

She can already tell; my expression an affirmation. She smiles.

"And?"

I sigh.

"And... nothing? He called last week. Saw the picture Rose put up of us at the hospital, but he heard Ben here and hung up. It's... I don't know."

He sounded flat. Defeated. Angry. But before that, talking to him for a few minutes felt normal. Familiar. Easy.

"He's jealous," Heidi states. "Why else would he hang up?"

I don't have time to rebuke it. A car horn sounds outside and we both stand.

"Rose is here, Mom!"

I pick my bag off the hook, Mom appearing in the kitchen doorway, book in hand. She comes closer so she can squeeze me tight.

"Have fun, honey." Worry radiates from her as she looks at Heidi. "And you know what to do if Bella has a seizure?"

"Yeah, Mrs. S. She's going to be just fine. We'll look after her, I promise."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything. I mean that. Anything at all. And stay safe."

...

Heidi slides in the front seat, kissing Rose hello. Soft smiles shared between them. Secret smiles. A pang of wistfulness has me looking away. I'm not sure why, when I've just cooled things off with Ben. Rose pulls away, catching my eye in the rear view mirror.

"I'm so glad you said yes to this."

"Me too. I'm excited," I confess, voice low, like it's some kind of secret. It's not, but sometimes I feel guilty.

"Good," she says. "Did you get a chance to listen to them?"

"A few songs. Not a lot."

"I'm gonna tell you again, just so I can tell you again at the end: you're going to love them."

The doors are already open by the time we've walked the little way from the lot, and the venue is heaving. Flanked by Heidi and Rose we climb what feels like a million stairs. I have to stop halfway up when my ankle and leg start to protest.

"Are you okay?" Rose asks, concerned.

"Yeah. Let me try..."

I take to moving the same foot up the stairs and bringing my bad one up last. It looks ridiculous; I know from the looks people are giving me as they rush to get around us, past the slow girl walking up the stairs like a toddler.

"They should really install an elevator," Rose says, as we find our seats. "Surely it discriminates against disabled people."

"I think they have wheelchair spaces next to the sound booth, but you're right. We should email them. Music should be accessible to everyone," Heidi agrees, taking off her leather jacket.

I'm not sure whether it's the noise, the heat, people looking at me weird, or how the word disabled makes me feel like I'm unequal to everyone around me, but it makes me quiet.

I shrug off my jacket, leaning forward over the balcony, down at the crowds of people moving below us. The sound and lighting technicians are on the stage and in the booth, going through equipment checks.

Heidi disappears to get drinks, Rose engaging me in a half-hearted conversation about her shift at work. As if she senses my discomfort, her hand dives into her bag and she takes out a flask. I take it, wordlessly, knocking it back.

It burns.

Vodka trailing fire down to my stomach. My shudder is violent, followed by a gag behind my hand. I shake it, grimacing.

"Urgh."

"That's my girl," she says. "Better?"

I take another gulp, only relaxing when the lights go down and the band starts their set, comfort in being cloaked in darkness and music.

I soak it up: the atmosphere, watching people jump and dance to the beat under lights, listening to lyrics that tug my heart wide open.

Rose was right when she said I was going to love them. I do. And Jasper would have loved them too, I'm sure of it.

Later, in the quiet of my room, my head buzzes, and my ears ring, the energy rolling off me as I fall back onto cold sheets.

I'm proud of myself for going in the first place, and I'm ecstatic I had a good time—the more the night wore on, the more my nerves and anxiety seemed to disappear.

Peeling off my skirt and t-shirt, and slipping into a cami and shorts to sleep in, I hum tunes of songs under my breath—songs I know I'm going to know by heart in the next few days.

The house is quiet as I move through it to the kitchen, just Oz's paws tapping along the floor behind me. Opening the cupboard I pick out a glass, rinsing it out before filling it, twisting the faucet off. I take a sip, water so cold I can feel it in my chest.

There's no warning.

I come to lying on the kitchen floor surrounded by shards of glass and water, Mom knelt at my side.

"It's okay, honey," Mom says, "It's okay. You just had a seizure."

I don't need her to tell me that when my head feels like it's splitting in two. Sitting up slowly, there's blood smeared on my hands and I feel wet. The dampness of my shorts sticking to my leg. The realization hits hard; my face crumpling, my cheeks burning, my eyes blurring.

"Mom?" My voice wavers. Oz paces back and forth. "Mom?"

"Let's get you cleaned up," Mom says gently, as I start crying, hard.

A shower, fresh pajamas, a bandage on my hand from where I cut it. Oz lies down next to me in bed as the tears sneak down my face and wet the pillow underneath.

"Why can't I just have one night?" I sob as Mom's hand runs through my damp hair. "Just one night?"

…

Days pass, and I don't move. I stick earbuds in my ears and ignore the outside world until the outside world comes calling.

Rose shows.

"We have a grad exhibition night to go to," she says, yanking out my ear buds. She puts one to her ear and pulls a face. "Elliot Smith? Why don't you just slit your wrists already?"

I roll over so I don't have to look at her face.

"That's not funny," I tell the wall.

"No, it's not. This isn't funny either." She leans over and drops something between me and a wall.

It takes seconds for my eyes to zero in on Edward's face, and then I'm sitting up and snatching the magazine up in my hands.

The article catalogs his rise and fall. From winning pretty much every competition going last year, to pulling out of the X Games abruptly last summer, to his less than stellar performances on the competition circuit ever since. It details fights he's gotten into, pictures of him drunk and falling out of clubs; how insiders are saying his sponsors are getting jumpy. There's a recent picture of him looking gaunt to go with allegations of drug and alcohol abuse… It's all speculation and gossip from unnamed sources but the pictures… he doesn't look well, and when I get to the still of him throwing himself off a cliff, I have to close it.

"Is it true?" I ask Rose, nauseated.

She doesn't answer.

"Is it true?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He looks like shit recently, but I figured anyone would look like shit with Alice wearing them down."

"You talk to him though—"

"Sometimes. Only about you."

"Oh."

She hums. "Come on then, get ready. Chop, chop. Then you can decide what to do about it."

"I don't want to go."

"Tough, you said to Embry you'd go. You need to stop this pity party every time you make a bit of progress and you suffer a setback. Having a seizure isn't the worst thing in the world."

"I wet myself, Rose." I'm scathing. "Because that's not mortifying, right?"

Rose raises her arms. "Who the fuck cares?"

"I care!"

"If you think anyone close to you would judge you for that, you've not been paying attention. We love you! Now, are you going to live your life being dictated to by something out of your control or are you gonna have fun? My vote's for fun."

I stand angrily and grab a towel off the back of my door, moving past Rose who sits down smugly on my bed.

"Fuck you."

She just laughs.

...

It's drizzly and grey, the air warm and humid, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say there was going to be a storm later: it's that kind of moody weather. The parking lot is busy, people milling around: parents, students, friends. I glance at my reflection in the car door; wavy hair, a new star print dress, and Docs on my feet. I like the support they give to my ankle, even if they feel really heavy.

"Ready?" Heidi asks as she shuts the car door behind me, looping her arm through mine.

"I guess so."

I feel uneasy. It's unfamiliarity territory. It wouldn't have bothered me before, but it does now. I cast my eyes around warily as we enter the building, looking for exits and toilets and anyone that looks familiar.

My head turns as my name's shouted across the atrium. Embry moves towards us through crowds, apologizing as he accidentally shoulder checks someone on his way.

"You made it!" he says when he reaches us.

I smile at him. "We said we'd come, didn't we?"

"Ah, I know right. But y'know people say shit like that and always bail." He jerks his head over to the side of the room he came from. "My mom and my sister are just over there with Quil and a couple of my bros. Come join us."

A few of the guys look familiar to me, recognition in their eyes when Embry introduces us. I wonder whether I've spoken to any of them before and suddenly worry they think I'm being rude by not remembering. There's not much I can do about that.

Embry's distracted, Quil filling in awkward gaps as we talk to Embry's mom and sister. He keeps standing on his tip-toes and craning his head, checking his cell every couple of minutes.

"Nervous?" I ask him, nudging him with my elbow.

"Little bit," he admits, and then more cryptically, "Not for the reasons you're thinking though. I know it's dope."

When it's time to go into the screen room, Embry waves us ahead, and it's not until we're seated that he reappears, familiar faces at his side.

Edward…

And Alice.

My heart thuds hard against my chest. He looks directly at me, unblinking, before he slowly steps down towards us, taking a seat a couple of rows ahead, Alice next to him.

I stare at the back of his head, at the ink I can see on his hands, the plug in his ear. I stare at his neck, and the hair that's curling at the nape of it. I'm staring so hard I don't realize the room has gone dark, and the showing has started until images on the screen start to move.

There're a few short films to sit through before Embry's name appears, white on black.

The room fills with the sounds of boards scraping and hitting surfaces, amplified in the darkness. The colors are soft and shot with grain, but as it flicks from skater to skater, it finds a focus.

A close up of Edward's face, beads of sweat on his forehead, a look of pure concentration and drive on his face… it shows him in the air, a silhouette lit up by the morning sun. It changes up between footage of his competition wins, before it fades to him smiling.

The narrator talks about connections. How skating is a community, how it forges relationships between the skaters and the urban landscapes around them, and in particular the people, how it cultivates friendships; how it cultivates love.

And then there's me and him, sitting together on the tail bed of El Grande. In my peripheral, Rose and Heidi look my way. I ignore them, eyes burning. A fly caught in a web.

"What do you like best about Edward?" Embry's asking me from behind the camera.

I smile, leaning over to say something to Edward, just for his ears. His mouth lifts at one side, a smirk, his lips brushing against my temple, his arm around me now, fingers tickling my side. I squirm into him, laughing as he murmurs something.

"He's passionate about the things he loves," I tell the camera, trying to be serious. It cuts away, my laughter fading.

There's a montage of him teaching me to skate; hands gripping my hips, adjusting my feet, cheering me on when I get something right… Him kissing me and me kissing him. We're completely and utterly shameless in those moments.

Blatantly, unapologetically in love. It radiates off the screen. Suffocating in its honesty.

I don't realize I'm crying until someone rushes past my seat. I recognize her figure, arms folded tight, head bowed, but my eyes are already back on Edward on the screen.

High. Eyes red, a grin on his face, but he's deadly serious when he looks directly into the camera and speaks to it like it's a secret just between him and the universe.

"I'm gonna marry her one day."

And that's… enough.