Sharp Turns

A story about a man trying to get back to the woman he loves

 The cars flying down the freeway are a steady hum and I am no exception in this ongoing race to get from point A to point B. I can’t stop thinking about her.  I know I shouldn’t, but my phone is on my ear and before I can change my mind the line is ringing. Rings once then twice before the *Beep* screeches in my ear as I near my ramp. I must decide if I am going to do this, but that’s the funny thing. Two hours in on the six-hour drive to her off-campus apartment, I’m already doing this.

 “Hello. You’ve reached Avery Maxwell. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.”  

Please leave your message after the tone. *Beeeeep*

“Hi Aves. I know you ignored the call by the way. You ignored it after two rings. You’ve gotta let it ring through or ignore it right away. Ha, I know you were thinking about answering though but I’m not calling to talk about you answering or ignoring or anything like that. I… well I--I guess I just wanted to leave you a voicemail, so you’d know it was me calling.”

I sigh, why do I do these things. This is harder than I thought. I want to apologize but that fear she won’t want me is making me nervous. I fake a cough hoping to get the shakiness out of my voice the way Dad does when he wants to talk about the difficult things. It’s too late to turn back now.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Avery. About how it all happened but I can’t give up just like that. I know what I said was s**t but I didn’t mean it. I would never want to hurt you. I just wasn’t ready for-”

A beemer swerves into the lane in front of me. “HEY,” I yell, punching the horn with my hand that grips the phone. A*****e. I lift the phone back to my ear.

“Sorry about the honking. I almost got hit by a beemer and of course he flipped me off. God, I wish they’d just use their blinkers. Okay enough of my rambling. Avery, I’m coming out there to see you. I know you don’t want to talk. Every time I even try to bring you up around your parents they clamp up and Aidan! My god! He might be bigger than me but if he wasn’t your brother and I didn’t think he was cool I’d swear he’s a total a*****e for glaring at me the way he does. You’re so lucky to have them. It’s �" Sorry, rambling again. Okay. I am coming to your apartment and if I am going the right way,”

I am. I know this long-a*s drive quite well.

“I should be there in about 4 hours. I think we should talk about everything even what we said that day, but I’ll only do that face-to-face. If you never want to see me again, that's fine. I just want to hear it from you. I’ll call again when I’m close by. I know you’ll have heard this by then. See you soon. I miss you, Avery.”

*Click*

“F**K!” I scream chucking my phone onto the empty cracked leather of the passenger seat.

Sweat beads accumulate on my temples, my hands are twitching on the wheel, and I switch on my wipers to push away the snow starting to fall. These roads I have driven so many times on the way to the university, my alma mater now, seem to be doused in a hopeful dread that is twisting my ribs and doing the samba in my gut. However, I realize now as I did just last week that I am particularly miserable without Avery by my side. How odd for me to discover, she is the only woman I’d want to feel this s****y for. I can see her now, rolling those hazel eyes but nonetheless pressing her phone against her ear listening to my stupid voicemail as she is pushing those black curls away from her face. Maybe she would even whisper to herself, “Silly Ryan.”  My face is starting to feel sore from both the winter chill and my excitement, I’m glad I went through with that voicemail. I’m smiling silently ear to ear. I turn up the radio, Tal Bachman’s voice singing, “She’s so hiiigh, high above me.”

Avery and I grew up together. For me, she had been the girl next door and my childhood friend. Maybe it’s a sign that we should be together. My smile is gradually fading and the memories creating a throb in my temples. The past is starting to regurgitate.

*

Avery’s parents, Bethany and Marvin, were Mom and Dad’s college friends that’d managed to stick together. Before Avery, Mom took me to play dates with her older brother, Aidan. I admired Aidan and pretended he was my brother until Avery was born. When I turned six, Avery was three and our parents felt better about us playing together. By then the admirable Aidan decided he was too old to play with us and preferred the company of his own friends. So, Avery and I had our play dates where we regularly colored and played make-believe until I was nine. By then we had switched to watching movies, since I became obsessed with Ghostbusters but every so often I would agree to watch The Muppets Take Manhattan. Avery really liked that movie.

I remember at my twelfth birthday party, she came over about an hour into the party since she had clarinet lessons that afternoon. She wore a yellow sundress and matching yellow bows. She was nine then and my friends thought it was weird that a cootie-infested girl was my friend. But I wasn’t ashamed of her even though they tried to make me feel that way. She was standing by the sliding door, just stepping into the backyard when she hollered out,” Hi Ryan! Happy birthday!” She waved enthusiastically with a toothy smile. I ran to meet her.

“Hi Aves! How was clarinet class?”

“It was fun! I learned how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb and Mom got me this new dress,” she grabbed the bottom corners and swayed side to side. God, I envy how easily we spoke to each other then. Just two kids talking unaware of reality and hardship, I imagine life could have gone on that way forever.

At that moment, my friends ran up and simultaneously started screaming at her, “Cooties! Cooties!” It was as if she were a leper. I felt so strange inside like I didn’t know what side to choose but when she cried, and her tears dripped on her new dress I knew. I simply yelled and shoved them, “No! She’s my best friend and she doesn’t have cooties!” I just kept yelling and shoving until one of them fell and scraped his knee then Dad broke it up and sent everyone but Avery home. When Avery calmed down, I told her I liked her dress and we watched The Muppets Take Manhattan.

Another great thing about Avery was that she greeted every change I forced on her with a smile and a soft-hearted, “Okay, Ryan.” Whenever I wanted to do something else she just followed me. We never argued, and I never truly appreciated that about her until I was thirteen. When she just went along with everything all those years it made it easier to forget she was three years younger because she never whined the way other kids her age would. She was just my best friend.

Most of those memories that flooded my childhood came with evidence that made me wish parents didn’t have that incessant need to record and photograph everything. Especially, Mom who managed to take photos at the worst times just to have photos to show as she shared her infamous stories. It’s easier to laugh about it now, though, than it was in high school.

When I was fourteen and covered in zits, I remember Mom telling the story of me and Avery running around naked as kids at the annual fourth of July barbecue. It was mortifying to be reminded of my lack of self-awareness as a six-year-old. Avery was eleven then and she literally ran to her room when my mom started telling the story. She was also enduring the cruel hand of puberty, which I have since learned can be an even more grueling experience for girls. She was moody, angsty and found me a lot less funny then. We slowly lost hold of our once strong bond formed amid childhood friendship and progressively in its place came the violent takeover of the “please don’t f*****g talk to me in public” phase. We spoke very little from then on and when we did it was in each other’s forced company at our parents’ parties. Even then, I merely managed to get her to answer how she was doing but it only came with one damn answer, “Fine!”

Once in those dark times I managed to get more than one word out of her. I recall her parents were throwing a party for no reason per usual. Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time was pouring into the house from the outdoor stereo when I saw Avery in the kitchen. I rushed over excited to see her, hoping she was in a better mood that afternoon.

            “Hi Aves!” I smiled then poured myself a glass of fruit punch as I mumbled Cher’s lyrics to myself.

            She gave me a sharp glare when I finally met her mascara coated eyes, “Can you please not call me that anymore? My name is Avery.” I nearly choked on my punch.

“Sorry,” I whispered into the glass. She leaned against the island her arms sternly crossed. I hoped I could still turn it around.

“How are you? How’s the seventh grade,” I ventured. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. I wondered then how I could have royally pissed her off, but I know now she was upset because a boy she’d invited to the party didn’t show up. Instead she got me, and I got her response, “A s**t storm with class bells.”

It was the most I had gotten out of her in months but after that conversation she stopped coming down to the parties, dinners and game nights. If I asked about her, her parents would say she was at sleepovers, the mall or just up in her room, implying I should know how it is with her going through puberty and all.

Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of her when she sat slumped and hooded in the passenger seat as Aidan drove her off to school in the mornings. I missed her, but it was clear that she did not feel the same. It was in that rough time that I honestly realized how alone I felt without her. I think then Mom could see how much Avery’s disappearance from my life was affecting me, because it was a morning like all the rest when she stopped me just before I leapt out of the car to get to first period. She gently caressed my back, concern creased her forehead and her love for me glistened in her eyes, “Honey, I know you miss Avery right now, but you’ll make other friends. You’ll see, Ry. Like Dad always says, ‘Time will make it better.”

She was right. Two years later, I was a junior and in all that time Avery had not been talking to me I made new friends. My best friend was a seemingly ultra-intense ROTC kid, Gram. He was a military brat, but you would have never guessed it when he morphed before your eyes from Mr. Discipline to class clown to, better yet, Mr. Softy whenever he was with Lauren, his girlfriend since elementary.  More so, I had managed to become one of the school’s best basketball players. Dad ate that up and created a shrine to all my achievements as an athlete while Mom saw an opportunity to find more stories to tell and even more photos to showcase.

Puberty had done its worst, but it seemed I had made my way out unscathed. In fact, I must admit: if anything, it improved me. I was looking pretty damn good at sixteen. My acne had cleared and coach’s hellish warm-ups and demands for “crystal clear pee-pee” had done their number on my health and body. Hell, I was looking like a slice of ready-to-eat cheesecake! I had dated maybe two cheerleaders by then, whose names I can’t recall, and had a weird thing with the gorgeous top volleyball player with a reputation for humping and dumping upperclassman, Clarissa Russen. She had asked me out and we went on three dates before any humping went down so I figured we were dating, which made the rumors wrong. But when I went to her house to pick her up for date number four, she had something else in mind that afternoon: sex in her late grandma’s room. She wore her grandma’s robe and stockings insisting it made for a better experience. It might have been the best sex I’ve ever had, but, wild libido or not, that s**t was freaky. To make matters worse, she refused to talk about it after, and at school, she acted as if it never happened. Still, I wonder just how many guys have been in her grandma’s bed. That relationship ended there. She wasn’t upset anyway, she simply said, “Cool,” and gave me a kiss on my cheek. We never spoke again. Clarissa made me realize sex was not everything and most importantly sex that freaky was not for me either. Even though it feels f*****g amazing, I realized there should probably be more to it like knowing s**t about her.

 Aged thoughts nudged at the back of my mind with my new single status. Avery was going to be at Ridgetown High the next year and just like that she’d snuck her way back in. I wondered if she would talk to me, but I just wanted to see her. When I reflect on those times, I know I was starting to fall for her, but high school was odd. A time filled with denial, an obsession with superficiality and pulsing hormones, all while I tried to learn who I was and who I wanted to be.

So just like that, my last year of high school began while Avery’s first year started. The school was big with nearly three thousand students, so it was no surprise when I didn’t see her until the fourth day. She was just there standing by her locker, wearing a rainbow striped t-shirt, blue jeans, high tops and her curls all straightened out. I remember how peculiar it felt to see her, this girl I used to spend all my time with, jolted into my world where I had been thriving with popularity and played the role of high school basketball star without her. Immediately my eyes wandered to puberty’s effects on her. She was at least four inches taller and then there were the b***s. I gawked and gaped like I’d witnessed a freak accident, confused as to how one distanced childhood friend plus two b***s equaled me being a brainless buffoon. Though they were nice lumps of fat (a weird phrase the sex-ed teacher, Mr. Meyers, said once that’d stuck with me when he had to end Gram’s inquiries on “why are b***s so awesome”) I couldn’t believe that just by sprouting those lumps on her chest, Avery had gone from ex-friend to new infatuation. She looked over at me, I stood in the crowded hall and stared at her like I’d seen the Ghost of Christmas Past with tits. Luckily, Gram and some of our other friends called me to come play hoops for free period so I glanced at Avery before I dashed off. Later that day, I ran into her in the parking lot while she waited for her friend to come pick her up.

“Hey Superstar.” It was weird to hear her voice. Sweet as always but confidence bursting in every syllable. Those hazel eyes burning bright.

“Hi,” I said with a nervous laugh, “No one really calls me that.”

“I’ll be the first then,” she smiled. Was she flirting with me? To this day I could not f*****g tell you! Girls can be so mysterious but if Avery intentionally tried to make me want her it worked.

“Avery, it’s been a while. How are you?”

She beamed pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m good. You know, Ry, it has been a while since we’ve hung out.”

“Or talked considering we’re neighbors,” I butted in anxiously.

 I felt bad for interrupting her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She gently smiled, “Yeah and our parents are best friends.  F**k, I’m sorry, Ry. I feel like it was my fault. I was just so angry about a lot of s**t, but I hope we can hang out now and forget about all that.”

“Yeah,” I responded, “I think we can.” She hugged me then her friend drove up.

The first three months of the school year flew by while our friendship was on the road to recovery. When there were parties, I brought her and her friends. When there was a new movie out or my friends and I planned a trip to the pier, I invited her. We talked and laughed but all the while the feelings in me repressed deeper. If I didn’t do something soon, my feelings would end up drunken vomit spewed all over her. But good god, me at seventeen! I wish someone would have slapped some sense into me before I made things worse than they’d ever been.

It was a Friday night at my house. My parents, and Avery’s parents unsurprisingly, were having a going-away dinner party for their mutual friend so right before dessert, I stole Avery away and took her to the den where our kid selves used to watch movies on the VCR and suck on fudgesicles. We sat on the worn-in sofa and I can’t remember what I said but it was probably a bad joke since I recall she started laughing. She laughed, and I saw my moment to attack. For the first time I faked a cough just like Dad to help with the nerves.

“I like you, Avery!” I sputtered in such a rush I couldn’t tell if she’d heard then…

Dead silence. I had never heard laughter die so abruptly. When she didn’t say anything for ten seconds I did the crème de la crème of stupid things. I leaned in and started to kiss her. She did not kiss me back and after a few seconds of making out with unresponsive lips I got the hint. Regret could not begin to explain what I felt. Eerily, she moved away in silence. Slowly she shook her head, I think she was in disbelief and thought she could shake away the memory. Dumbfounded and maybe a bit angry, she whispered, “Don’t talk to me anymore, okay.” I was scared. I still don’t know if that was a question or a demand. My voice cracked when I uttered, “Okay,” back to her and she ran upstairs. I wish there were exorcisms or some s**t for raging hormones.

So, just like that, Avery and I didn’t talk anymore. I got into the university and she got onto the cheerleading squad. She started dating the president of the soccer club, Arthur the a*s-wipe. He was the “sexy” French boy with parents in the movie business. Sadly, for no reason other than he got to be with Avery and I didn’t, I hated Arthur. The rest of my last year was a routine haze. I went in and out of classrooms, played basketball with the boys and talked about the future. The most distinct event was when Gram and Lauren announced they were going to get married that year in December after graduation and move to Gram’s training grounds. I guess I was happy for them, but I was bewildered. I looked at Gram and Lauren the way I so often stared at Mom and Dad, wanting to understand how two people could love or even like each other so much that they would be willing to spend their entire lives together shackled by an unnecessarily expensive piece of jewelry. I couldn’t wrap my mind around marriage at eighteen years old because it seemed f*****g psychotic to me then. I couldn’t imagine loving someone that much.

We graduated the Class of 1994. Dad commanded I have a graduation party and I did. Avery didn’t come but her parents insisted she wanted to be there more than anyone, but something came up. A lie if ever heard one but even then, I commended them for working so hard to spare my feelings. Summer raced by, a time well spent. I hung out with the boys, slept with a few girls from out of town, got drunk by the pier, smoked in Gram’s basement, went to concerts and attended the annual Fourth of July party Avery’s parents threw every year. Dad went with me, but Mom was tired from the week, so she stayed home. Again, no Avery. Aidan was there though, and he proposed to his girlfriend that night by reciting the Endless Love lyrics. I envied that he got to be so happy, but I wished Avery could have seen it. I realize now that maybe she saw it from her window but nonetheless that summer came to an end.

A month before I would attend the university, Dad came into my room. He was the type of parent that lived for those talks with his son about life, girls, love and what not. Always a welcomed presence, but I knew that instance was different.

“Hey bud,” he seemed low, but I assumed he and Mom had a small argument as they did from time to time.

“Dad! What’s up?” He sighed but maybe he was just tired. He worked long hours at the firm sometimes, but it is clearer now that eighteen-year-old me just didn’t want to see that something was wrong. He sat at the edge of my bed and suggested I sit too. I did. He turned to face me, and life took a sharp turn.

“Ryan. We didn’t know how to tell you this, but you need to know,” Dad’s eyes brimmed with tears and I imagined it was divorce.

 Dad needed double the strength as he powered out two of his infamous fake coughs. His eyes never let a tear fall, “Mom was diagnosed with cancer.” All at once, those embarrassing stories she’d tell and those god-awful photos she would show did not seem so mortifying. It was strange how much I missed her camera shoved in my face and all I wanted were more of those moments. But Dad didn’t stop there, I think he needed to lay out all the facts not just for me but for himself too. “She’s got stage 3 breast cancer and stage 1 ovarian. She is going to need a mastectomy, she plans to get it done in the next week. She is going to start treatment as soon as the doctors give her the green light.” The dreaded c-word times two had made its way into my life and worse it came for Mom. I let the university know I would not attend.

Naturally, Mom convinced me to delay my attendance for one semester, insistent that it’d kill her to see me ruin my life just because she was sick. She made me promise to go to school even if she passed. Dad did not like when she spoke that way, but I made my promise.

Fascinatingly, Dad’s love for Mom became even more apparent then, though it was never in contention before, and I wondered if love would get us through. Strangely, I started to understand how love could last so long but still I couldn’t see a love like Mom and Dad’s ever happening for me.

 Those next fifteen weeks when I could have been in class were the most horrendous, beautiful and life-altering. Mom had the surgery and I had never seen her so defeated. Dad seemed to share her agony and I could see how much they were both suffering. I needed to be a man then and push through the trauma of seeing my life-giver in such pain, so I could help her as she helped me. But many nights I could hardly get an hour of sleep. I cried and cried, prayed, worked and brooded, unprepared to lose Mom. One morning when Mom could hardly move and coughed up blood, I decided there was no God. No God could ever do this to the woman I loved most in the universe. In that time, I managed to lose faith in any higher power and regained a friendship in Avery who I had not thought about in months. There were three weeks left before I had to keep my promise to Mom when Avery called the house. She apologized and wept over the phone, persistent that if she’d known she’d have visited sooner. Apparently, Avery’s parents kept Mom’s condition a secret from her, afraid Avery would handle it poorly and only talk to me again at such a critical time in my life out of pity. Unexpectedly, Avery became an escape. We grabbed coffee, talked about her high school experience and my part-time job at the local theatre.

“Ry, I-- I have so much I want to tell you,” she started after we’d talk for nearly two hours just about life and where it has brought us in all the time we didn’t talk.

“Then tell me, Aves.”

“I might talk to you about everything else later, but I need you to know that when you kissed me,” I remember how I winced when she said the words. This memory hurts me like a bee sting.

Her voice shook as she continued, “You were my best friend and you took that all away. I was selling weed and the guy I liked… I thought I was pregnant and then you kissed me. You ruined everything, Ry. You made me feel trapped like all guys are only after one thing. When I left, I blamed myself then I just felt angry, sad and embarrassed. Then one day I just moved on, always sort of thinking what would’ve happened if I’d been the girl you thought I was then. And now I really just want to be friends again. I miss you, Ry.” I rejoiced within. She hadn’t spoken so freely around me in so long, yet I could only see the girl I’d defended at my twelfth birthday party fading away. But she was still that girl just with six more years of experience added to her résumé of life.

 I missed her too but this time I knew how to behave. We would be friends. Just friends.

Soon college began, and I kept my promise. From there, life swirled like a vicious, fantastic whirlwind pulling my attention in all the different directions with its unpredictable dance. It was the summer before my last year at the university. Avery and I were not in touch as often, but we were on good terms. When I came home that summer, I was glad to see Mom looking better. It had been a rough three years and just the year before Dad and I were sure she’d lose the battle, but she’d pulled through and was in full remission. That summer raced by just as fast as all the others, Dad, Mom and I travelled in Europe and when we came back I dedicated my time to Avery. The night after we’d returned, she took me to see The Nutty Professor. We shared a popcorn and soda, our hands bumping lightly as we both tried to grab handfuls of buttered goodness, but feelings were reemerging with every touch. I moved my hand away. After that she insisted we make plans, so we would see each other throughout the summer and we did. We hiked trails, danced at nightclubs and attended our parents’ much tamer parties. I interviewed for a job out of college as an insurance man.  Avery was my best friend again and somehow more beautiful than ever. She would be going to the university as well that fall and again we would be going to the same school. She’d be undeclared, but it made sense for her.

It was the night before she’d drive up with her parents to move into her dorm room. We were in her parents’ tv room as the season finale of Friends played in the background, while Avery shared her embarrassing middle school stories.

“I liked him so much, Ry! You don’t understand,” uncontained joy in her warm voice, “then he tripped over his own shoelace and his warm tuna salad spilled all over me!” I laughed so hard I was struggling to breathe.

She hit my arm playfully, “Stop laughing!” She teased further, “It was disgusting!”

Avery went quiet, but I didn’t really notice it then. Her hand was on my arm again, but it stayed there. I looked at her gazing at me with that glittering smile. She whispered, “I like you, Ryan.” Shock is the best word to describe a moment like that. I chortled awkwardly and gasped, “What,” then she leaned in and kissed me. I kissed her back. Just like that life’s whirlwind took me for another turn.

Attending the university together Avery and I started dating at f*****g last! We told our parents we were dating when we came home for winter break. They were ecstatic. The year came and went, we argued, laughed, had new experiences and professed our love. The second year came and went, and we did more of the same as last year. Argued, fucked, danced, cried, laughed, adventured and learned more about each other. I graduated and started work as an insurance man back home. I lived with Mom and Dad for about six months until I got on my feet and moved to a decent apartment just thirty minutes from my job and home. Avery and I struggled with our long-distance for a bit with her six hours away but eventually we found our pattern-- right before I fucked it all up in typical Ryan fashion.

Avery had just finished fall semester of her third year and I wanted her to have a nice winter break. I picked her up from her off-campus apartment in the early morning and took her to dinner. After the six hour drive she was happy to see I’d surprised her with our parents as well as Aidan, his wife and their baby girl at a new restaurant in town she’d been dying to try. Eager to show off my success, I paid for everything. We did our normal winter activities from ice skating to watching the winter games and after the Christmas party, I took Avery to my apartment. She told me about all her friends at home that were getting married. I enjoyed listening but twenty-four-year-old me, which I guess is just me now, was not ready to imagine us cohabitating, forget married, but twenty-one-year-old Avery felt differently two weeks ago. We argued. It was the ugliest of any fight we’d had yet. I had never seen Avery so passionate and venomous with her words and I only knew how to retaliate with words that stung more. I said s**t like, “People only get married because they aren’t getting fucked! We do that so why would I marry you?!” Instant regret. I didn’t mean it, especially how it sounded. How could I? I love her, but I didn’t want to be forced into a corner. Avery demanded I admit I would want to get married someday but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say the f*****g words. Avery cried and screamed we were over. I yelled unthought apologies just hoping she’d stay. She didn’t. She didn’t want to be in a relationship that would never lead to marriage or real commitment. She said she could never understand why I was so afraid to be with her after chasing after her like a homesick puppy since high school. I had never seen her so upset and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me.

One week ago, Avery’s family was still polite with me, except for Aidan, but I wasn’t welcome as I was once before. Mom thought I was letting “the one” slip away but I don’t even know if I believe in such a thing. But I missed her so much it felt like acid was tearing a hole in my chest. Avery was back at the university and I just wanted to see her. Dad and I talked like we used to when I was a teenager and he helped me understand why I love Avery. I tried to think of my life without her and I couldn’t.

The warmth of Dad’s voice fueled me, “You can fight it if you want, Ryan, but you and Avery might belong together. See, if you can’t imagine your life without her and you feel this way you should never let her go. That’s what I did, and I am so lucky to still have your mother right by my side.”

By the next morning I was in the car driving that familiar six-hour path to the university to apologize and make my romantic gesture.

*

I have no ring, but I know I want to marry her even if only someday because I know I will do anything to make that tall girl with the hazel eyes and black curls happy. Anything to have my best friend by my side. I’m in love with her and I think I will be for a lifetime.

With roughly twenty minutes before I reach Avery’s apartment, my sweating fingers slide on the wheel. I’m desperate to hear her voice even if I’ll only get that crackling recording of it; but I can wait until I’m closer. My phone suddenly starts ringing. I look over at the dinging radio on the passenger seat to see her name shining on the screen. Avery. My heart starts violently beating and I feel like I won’t be able to breathe until I answer. I reach to grab my phone that’s lying at the edge of the passenger seat. As my fingers grapple to take hold of it, I shift my eyes away too soon from the road and the sharp curve that hits on this street by the iced over lake is ahead of me. The phone falls from my grip and in my panic, I turn the wheel too hard and the car turns off the road and dives into the lake. A jarring dive that thrusts me against the wheel and leaves my body aching. It is all so sudden I cannot believe it’s happening. The icy green water surrounds the car and I know I need to get out. Gram once told me if I was ever in this situation I should use the head rest to break the window and swim out. Panic is settling in. I pull the passenger headrest off and begin to wildly ram the window, the car sinking deeper. I just keep ramming until the white cracks on the window shatter and I swim out. A large broken shard of window cuts my leg and it stings. I push my arms up and down to my sides, swimming upward until THUNK!

Ice. The ice ceiling. Disorientation is settling in and I cannot understand how I missed a gaping hole made by something as big as my car. The top of my head is thumping but I start swimming to the left, when I realize I cannot see the car and don’t know if I am swimming away from or toward the opening. The ice water that’s being stained by my leg blood numbs my face. Pain is losing its meaning as I become nothing more than numbed nerves and realize I don’t know what to do. Panic rears again and I realize I need to do something. Anything! I could die! I start trying to punch my ice prison. I punch and punch, every ounce of my energy packed into my thrusting fists, hoping the next punch or the next will set me free. But it is no use and I can feel my body growing weaker. My hands are throbbing and so are my feet and legs. The water is numbing my whole body and there’s no air to breathe. I want to breathe! I don’t want to die this way. There are so many thoughts pounding in my mind, but I can’t decipher any of them. I imagine other people have their lives flash before their eyes or at least ponder their greatest regrets, but I can’t. I’m cold and I’m choking on this ice water while my leg blood is shimmying like squid ink around me. I can no longer feel my body.  Unknowingly my mouth opens, my chest hurts and I'm drowning inside out. Then there's something. Something distant and blurry in the deep of the water and I try to grab it. It’s so warm but not in a tangible sense. It moves closer and closer, and before it comes into focus I already know it’s her.

Avery.

I can't feel anything except the exuberant warmth she radiates on me. She is holding me in her arms and smiling down at me with that little gap between her front two teeth, her black curls hovering above her shoulders with her face altered by happiness that creases the corners of her big hazel eyes. She disappears like a mirage and I can't feel regret or love or pain or any of it anymore.

I only sink.