The black and white fridge magnet had the words “To Err is Human, to Arr is Pirate” printed over a skull and crossbones. When I’d given it to Andie, she’d laughed so hard, she cried.
At the sight of the magnet, I collapsed.
My mom found me and held me while I let it all out.
I’d refused to stay in that house for any longer than the length of a shower since.
Returning to the hospital room with coffee and sandwiches for both me and Rick, I found him sitting close to Andie, holding her hand in both of his. When he heard me come in, he ducked his head and swiped at the tears I knew he hoped I hadn’t seen.
Placing the coffee and sandwich down beside him, I didn’t offer him comfort or bring up his grief, because I think he needed to feel strong in all this. Rick wasn’t a stupid guy—he could see my parents were barely holding it together and I knew he felt some obligation to be strong for us all. It was no use attempting to convince him otherwise. It was just the person he was.
I sat back in my chair and sipped at my coffee.
“You better open that sandwich,” Rick said softly.
He started to eat his slowly and I felt a pang in my stomach.
I guess I was a little hungry.
Nibbling at it, I listened to the sounds of the monitors around my sister.
“She was mad at herself too, you know,” Rick suddenly said.
I almost choked on the bite of sandwich as I sucked in air. After a sip of coffee, I asked, voice hoarse, “What do you mean?”
“You’re not to blame for the argument, Charley. It happened. The two of you are stubborn.”
“I should’ve called,” I said flatly. “I should’ve been here.”
“‘Should haves’ only hurt you, kiddo. Don’t do that to yourself.”
“Why? Aren’t you doing that to yourself?”
We stared at each other a moment until Rick finally sighed and looked back at Andie. “I should’ve married her sooner. She wanted to get married right away. I should’ve done it.”
After a moment of silence, I whispered, “I should have put her first.”
“What?”
I glanced up at Rick. “Nothing.”
His phone rang and he excused himself. I took the opportunity to shimmy forward in my chair and clutch my sister’s hand. “I’m sorry I chose Jake over you, Andie. I’m so sorry.”
I kissed her hand and screwed my eyes shut and for the first time in a long time, I prayed. I prayed that God could hear me… I prayed that if He could, I’d be repentant. My penance—If you save her, I’ll give him up. If Andie wakes up, I’ll let Jake go. I’ll choose her over him.
I hurried into the hospital, my hair damp, eyes heavy with lack of sleep. I always hurried back after a quick shower. I didn’t want to miss anything.
We were on day fourteen.
I felt hope sliding through my fingers, the tips grasping for purchase.
“Charley!” My mom’s eyes were bright, brighter than I’d seen them in fourteen days, as she strode down the corridor from my sister’s room.
“What? What is it? What’s happened?”
“Andie started choking,” Mom said, her words rushed and excited. “She’s breathing on her own. She’s awake, Charley. She’s awake.”
I burst out crying. “Awake?” I sobbed, overwhelmed by the relief flooding me.
“She’s in and out.” Mom tugged on my arm, pulling me toward the room. “The doctor says it might take a day or two for her to come fully around. But she’s out of the coma.”
I froze in the doorway of my sister’s hospital room, suddenly paralyzed with fear.
I watched as Mom, Dad, and Rick hovered over her while the doctor spoke. The ventilator was gone and although her eyes where shut, Andie’s lids fluttered. She moved her head and emitted a small groan.
I pressed back against the door, fighting the urge to flee.
Andie was awake. She was going to make it.
In amongst the relief I felt a wave of nausea, and I ducked outside the door to press my forehead against the cool wall.
My bargain with God.
I had to let Jake go somehow.
Trembling, I took out my phone and called him. This time I didn’t use FaceTime.
I told him Andie was awake. I ignored his relief. I ignored his love. I had to in order to say what I needed to say. I told him not to call me anymore. I told him it was over. And then I hung up and switched my phone off.
I dashed into the nearest bathroom and made the toilet right as I threw up. After a while, I was just dry heaving.
I gave Jake up for Andie and I didn’t even know if she forgave me. What if she hated me? What could I say?
And worse… how could I face her when there was a darkness deep inside me that resented her and the choice I’d just made?
I never did go into the hospital room again.
During the first twenty-four hours, I hovered outside, looking in through the windows, ignoring my parents’ and Rick’s pleas to come inside and speak to Andie while she slept.
The next day when Andie became cognizant, I did the same—hiding and peeking in when I was sure she wasn’t aware. The doctors said she had a recovery period ahead. She was a little dazed, confused, and although she recognized everyone, she couldn’t remember much before the accident.
I hid out at Starbucks a lot and on the third day, Dad hunted me down to bring me to Andie.
“I told her you were here,” he said, disappointment and annoyance in his eyes. He didn’t like the way I was behaving. Hiding from her. He didn’t understand.
“Did she ask for me?” If she asked for me, I’d have to go to her.
Dad frowned. “No.”
“Does she remember the argument?”
Dad scratched his unshaven cheek and looked away uncomfortably. “I think so.”
“Then I’m staying right where I am.”
A week later I returned home to Lanton with my parents without having spoken to my sister. I’d spied on her a lot as she sat talking to friends and family, but she’d had no idea I was there.
Andie was recovering fast—she had some physical and mental therapy to go through, but the doctors were impressed with how well she was doing and Rick insisted he could take care of her.
Mom and Dad had to get back to work, but they told Rick they’d come to Chicago every weekend until Andie was fully recovered. They seemed stronger back in Chicago. They seemed like themselves again.
But when we returned to Lanton, I realized it was all a mask for Andie’s benefit. That fragility that had scared me so much reappeared. Mom started disappearing to the cemetery almost every day—it pissed me off. I thought it was morbid. I was helping Mom out in the florist a lot because she was so distracted all the time. She was constantly calling Rick or Dad for reassurances. I realized that she and Dad were both afraid that someone was going to tell them that Andie’s recovery was a sick joke—that any minute now, she’d close her eyes and never open them again. As for Dad, he didn’t talk to me much in those first few months.