For Always (17 page)

“He just called me. He couldn’t wait to tell me what a great time he had. And I can hear in his voice he means it.”

“You don’t know if he’s still going to feel that way after some time passes.”

“I don’t believe you! You just don’t want me to be happy!” I yelled.

“You know that’s not true. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Unless you’re the one doing the hurting. That you’re perfectly fine with.” I stormed out of the kitchen, stomped up the steps into my room and slammed the door behind me.

How dare my mother rain on my parade! How could she understand what Jordan and I felt for each other? Centuries passed since she was my age. How could she remember how wonderful it felt to be “in love?” Sure she went on the occasional date but it wasn’t like her social calendar was packed. She couldn’t possibly know what I was feeling.

It was okay I decided. I knew what transpired between us. I saw the look in his eyes and heard the cracking of emotion in his voice. I just had to wait a few days. Then they’d see just how right I was.

Wednesday evening my feet were back on the hard, cracked ground. I hadn’t heard from Jordan since his after-prom-call and my confidence had waned. Maybe the “end things” wasn’t what I thought it was. Maybe prom night was his way to find closure with me.

My mood was foul. I couldn’t clear my mind of Jordan long enough to study for finals and Regents. I snapped at the slightest thing. I wanted a break from the constant bickering with my mother and stayed in my room, barricaded behind my door with my nose in my books.

Lying in bed studying, I hadn’t any idea of the time when Maria pounded at my door.

“Open the damn door!” she demanded.

“Leave me alone!” I yelled back.

“I’m serious, Stephanie, open the door. It’s important.”

With a loud huff, I got off my bed and opened the door sucking my teeth and rolling my eyes to greet her. I hoped she’d get the hint quickly and make the visit short.

“What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Or better yet what couldn’t you call or text me with?”

“Sit down,” Maria ordered in a tone so serious it made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

“What happened?” I felt a boulder forming in my stomach.

Maria clenched her jaw and took a seat next to me on the bed.

Something terrible happened. I sensed it. And yet I wouldn’t surrender to the helpless feeling of falling from a cliff.

“It’s Jordan.”

“Great.” I felt like I was being beaten with a battering ram. “You were right, I was wrong. Do we really have to go through this again?”

Maria shook her head, tears filling her large brown eyes, “He was in an accident.”

My heart plummeted.

“When? Where?” I asked, panicked.

“I had to pick up milk on my way home from Rob’s. I ran into his mother at the store. She was just getting home from the hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

“Maimonides,” she answered. “It happened the other night. He was driving Madison home. A truck blew a light and hit them.”

“But he’s okay right? He has to be okay!”

She nodded. “The car flipped. The truck somehow ended up on top of the car.”

I swallowed hard against the angst rising in the back of my throat, “Is he okay?”

“He needed surgery.”

I jumped off the bed and paced wildly. I reached for my phone with trembling hands. Maria placed her hand over mine and stopped me.

“I have to call him.” I pleaded as if I needed her permission. “I need to speak to him. To see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“You can’t.” She snapped. In a softer tone she continued, “The phone lines won’t allow incoming calls after nine.”

“Then I’ll call his cell.”

She shook her head, “He doesn’t have it with him.” She handed me a small slip of paper, “Here’s his number.”

Frustrated and frightened I let my tears fall. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch.” I threw my arms around Maria, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know,” she stroked my hair trying to calm and reassure me. “That’s what friends are for.”

There was a somber note to her voice. She was holding back. I pulled away from her and stared into her eyes. She looked away. I knew it was bad. Really bad.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

After taking a long breath she began, “Stephanie. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

I thought my chest was going to cave in, “He’s hurt worse than you let on, isn’t he?”

“No.” She shook her head, “Physically he’ll be okay.”

“Physically? C’mon Maria, spit it out.”

“Madison didn’t make it.”

“Didn’t make it?” The realization of what she said hit me as I repeated it. “She died?” I asked in horror.

Teary-eyed, Maria nodded.

I felt like I was sucker punched. I didn’t want Jordan with her but I certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“Does he know?”

She nodded. “He’s a mess. He feels terrible. He blames himself.”

I closed my eyes picturing him, the pain he must be feeling. I ached to see him, to touch him.

“Stephanie, whatever Jordan’s intentions might have been,” she paused and spoke with as much kindness as she could, “this changes everything.”

I knew Maria had a point but I didn’t care. Jordan’s well-being was what mattered most. As long as he was okay the rest would fall in place, eventually.

I tried calling him before leaving for school the next morning, but it was too early. I couldn’t get through. I couldn’t stay home because I had a big science exam. I wondered if my wandering mind would stay focused on physics long enough to pass the stupid test.

It was the last class of the day. We were given an hour to answer fifty questions. If we finished sooner we could leave. Usually I finished and reviewed my answers with time to spare. Not this time. I barely finished filling in the last bubble when my teacher announced, “Pencils down.” I hoped I did well, but I couldn’t be certain, unfortunately I had a one-track mind and it was on Jordan the entire time.

I debated calling him from school after the test but opted not to. I wanted to speak to him privately in case I became emotional, which was an absolute certainty. That meant waiting until I got home. I spent every minute until I did wondering how he felt and what he was going through.

I burst through my front door, threw my things on the floor and pulled out my cell phone. It took a moment for me to catch my breath before dialing the number, trembling with anticipation. I had a flashback to the first time I called him, how nervous I’d been. I realized in over four years not much changed.

An eternity passed before he answered. I felt my entire body relax when I heard his voice. He sounded fine. Like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

“Thank goodness you’re alright.” The words came out of my mouth before I realized I said them.

“Do you think a Mack truck is going to stop me?” He asked sounding strange.

“Sounds like it almost did.”

Silence.

I said the wrong thing. As always. Frustrated I kicked the wall.

“Yeah,” he answered somberly. “It certainly stopped Madison.”

“I’m so sorry, Jordan.”

“Me too,” he said barely audible.

Hearing the pain in his strained voice, I wished I didn’t call. I hadn’t the slightest idea what to say to him. And for reasons I understand all too well, I felt plagued with guilt. After all, death and I, we went together like chocolate and peanut butter.

“It’s not your fault.” It was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Yeah,” he paused, “I know.”

And there it was. The moment of silence was no doubt his way of blaming me. As well he should. I knew it, and deep down, he knew it too, or he would soon.

“How are you?” I asked for lack of anything better to say. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“I’ve been pieced back together. I needed surgery on my shoulder. A screw is holding it in place. Otherwise, I’m fine.”

“What can I bring when I visit?”

“Nothing,” he said sharply, “I have everything I need.”

“What about a book? Cards? Anything?”

“Don’t come, Steph.” He said in a cold, sharp manner, leading to another heavy silence. “I’d rather you not see me like this, you know all patched up and pieced together,” he softened a bit.

“Oh.” It sounded logical. I tried to keep up a strong front. “Sure. I just wanted to be certain you were okay.”

“I am.” he sounded earnest, “Listen, I have to go, my doctor just walked in.”

“I understand.” It could have been true. He was in a hospital, but it didn’t feel true. It felt like he couldn’t wait to hang up. How could I blame him? It wasn’t as if I had anything funny or even appropriate to say, but I wished, not knowing what else to wish for, I wished it hadn’t happened at all.

Forever worrying about me and making sure I was okay, he did his best to reassure me, “I promise I’ll call you as soon as I break free.”

“I can’t wait.” I hoped he didn’t hear the cracking of my voice.

“I’ll speak to you soon.”

I hung up, unsure of what I should have felt. I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. But I knew for certain, I should’ve felt something.

Twenty-Four

Late Friday night while I lie in bed reading, listening to music, my phone beeped signaling a new message. I reached for it and jumped up when I found a text from Jordan.

I’m home. Come by 2morrow.

My heart raced. He was home and he wanted to see me. That had to be good news. I wanted so badly to call and talk to him. I didn’t. If he wanted to chat he would’ve called. Instead I sent a message back asking what time he wanted me to come.

I barely slept. I lay awake most of the night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what to expect. Would he just act like nothing happened? Would he glare at me with anger and resentment in his eyes? Would he be happy to see me? No matter what the next day held, I looked forward to seeing him as I never did before.

Saturday was a beautiful June day with the sun peering down from the bright blue sky. I enjoyed the warmth of the rays falling on me. Despite the pleasant temperature, my teeth chattered and I shivered from nervous anticipation.

To keep my mind off the sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach, I concentrated on slowing my pace. Under the circumstances I didn’t want to appear too eager to see him but I couldn’t bear to be away from him for even another minute. I tried to change my focus, paying attention to the details of everything around me.

I took note of the light flowery scent in the air, drowning out the smell of car exhaust that usually hung about. Flower blossoms in their prime sat atop their stems, open and exposed to the elements. I heard the barking of dogs, squealing brakes and bass pumping music.

Jordan sat on his front stoop, head down, staring at the ugly grey cement. He looked up and my heart leapt when our eyes met. A sad forced smile peeked through the dark stubble covering the lower part of his face. Once he stood, I noticed the sling his right arm lay in. Jordan walked over and met me in front of the porch. We exchanged hellos, and then embraced, careful not to hurt his injured arm or shoulder.

He held me close. Tight. I melted against him wanting to stay that close forever. The more comfortable I became in his embrace, the more ill at ease he seemed to be.

“It’s good to see you,” I said searching his eyes. They were different. They weren’t mysterious and playful. They were black and haunted.

“It’s good to see you too,” he spoke quietly.

“I was so worried . . .” I rambled on trying to break through the tension growing thick in the air.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m invincible.” he said unconvincingly.

I shook my head. “I don’t know about that, but it’s really good to see you.” I wiped away any hint of tears with my fingertips and smiled.

“I must be invincible or I wouldn’t be here.”

I hesitated mentioning the accident but he brought it up. I thought he wanted to talk about it.

“It must have been horrible.”

Jordan’s jaw clenched as he looked off into the distance. After a moment he took my hand, sending a shock of adrenaline through my body.

“Come with me.”

For the first time ever, he led me through the side entrance of his house. Stairs were on either side of us. The ones on the right led up, the left led down.

We went down the half flight and turned into Jordan’s bedroom. To the right of me, on the same wall as the entrance, was his bed. It was a twin bed neatly made with a dark blue comforter.

On the far wall between the two long walls, stood a dark mahogany desk holding a laptop computer, its shelves lined with books. I noticed some classics like Frankenstein and Dracula mixed in with modern suspense and sci-fi novels. Jordan always advised me on taking note of the books in a guy’s room to get a better idea of who he really is.

On the wall directly across from the entrance was a large punching bag. It immediately brought to mind Jordan’s well-defined upper body. Pleasing images of him, pounding the bag topless in a pair of sweats, raced through my head. Hanging on the dark paneled walls around the room were karate paraphernalia: Chinese stars, Nunchakus, Tonfas and a framed gi.

My wide eyes and stunned expression betrayed my surprise. Realizing there was so much I’d yet to discover about him I asked, “You’re into karate?”

“Not anymore.” He looked away as he continued. “I was small for my age. I got picked on a lot, so my mother signed me up.” He said in a detached manner.

I looked at him. Something didn’t make sense. With his six foot stature and broad shoulders I wondered when he was ever small enough to be picked on.

“I stuck with it for a while,” he continued to speak dispassionately.

“What belt are you?”

“Brown.”

“Did you ever try for your black belt?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?” I felt compelled to ask wondering what would keep him from reaching for the top rung of the ladder.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I just lost interest, I guess.”

Lost interest? No one goes that far and just loses interest. There had to be more to it than that, but I dare not push. Not now.

“I could never learn karate. I’d never get past a white belt.”

“There’s nothing you can’t do if you want it bad enough.” He said almost as if it were an automatic response.

I wondered how I allowed this to go so terribly wrong. He had been my shoulder to cry on. My support. My cheerleader. Now was my chance to reciprocate much of what he’d done for me and he was giving me a pep talk.

I heard this every time I showed a hint of self-doubt, whether it was about school or guys or even a stupid game. How many times I’d allude to the fact I couldn’t have him and he’d answer with, “There’s nothing you can’t have if you want it bad enough.”

Jordan sat on the bed and motioned for me to sit beside him. What once would have sent me on overdrive inundated me with guilt. I wondered if he felt the same.

“It was the worst night of my life.”

“I bet.” No doubt what he was talking about.

He looked away. “Did you ever wonder what the meaning of life is? Why we’re here?”

Without thinking I allowed my lips to turn up into a slight smile. I remembered a dialogue I had with one of my seventh grade classmates. We went back and forth for two weeks arguing over the meaning of life. Like at twelve years old you have enough reason and logic to contemplate one of the most complex issues of the universe.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

I shook it off, “Nothing. When I was younger I had a theory. But it’s really stupid.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“I thought when the universal fight of good versus evil took place, each side wanted their own army.”

“To fight one another?”

“Yes. Some stayed in paradise and others left willingly, but for the souls who were undecided they lost the will to choose. Instead they were born. The life they led on earth deciphered which side they favored.”