I’m not sure at first if it’s only obvious to me that this was most certainly not his plan. I’ll give it to him, he’s playing it off well with this whole goofy daredevil performance. The announcers notice though, and they comment on it. “What in the world is he doing?”
“I have no clue. What a weird moment to pull that move. His time is suffering right now.”
Reid catches on to the unease and yanks himself forward onto his front wheel. I’ve never seen him do a rear nose manual this way. He pulls his brake too hard and his front wheel slips,forcing him to tumble right over his handlebars and into the gravelhard. I’m immediately reminded of his last big crash—when he tore his ACL. It’s a stark reminder of his mortality, even though he seems fine.
He gets up and back onto the bike right away, but his cheeks look red even through his full-face helmet as the camera pans to zoom in. I’m not sure what’s gotten into Reid—I’ve never seen him throw a ride. He rides around the last jump in defeat and slowly conquers the rock garden before the final shoot. This run is over, and he knows it. Everyone knows it.
There’s blood streaming down his chin, and I’m not there to wipe it off. The video won’t pause soon enough.
I don’t need to see the rest.
I’ve never regretted missing something more in my life. My borrowed robe is flapping in the wind, and I’m racing so fast to get to him I almost leave the spa in the thing.
24
Reid is fine after the crash, at least physically speaking. He has a broken nose, but that’s all. It could have beenmuchworse. He could be paralyzed from the waist down like Chloe, but he’s not, he’s fine. I keep repeating that to myself like a prayer. Maybe if I say it enough I’ll finally believe it.
Before leaving British Columbia, we make one more stop at the hospital. Every inch of Chloe’s room is covered in flower arrangements and gift shop bears. I brought her a breakfast burrito, but now I’m doubting myself. Maybe I should have brought a stuffed animal too?
Her eyes light up at the aluminum-wrapped lump in my hands. “Oh hell yes. I’m fucking starving.”
It’s impossible not to laugh. She’s tied down with wires and beeping machines, but she’s still Chloe. Her mom breaks the news to Reid and I while Chloe is getting her vitals checked. We’re standing in the stark white hallway as she says, “It’s official. She is paralyzed from the waist down.”
I see where Chloe gets her strength from, because Mrs. Madison barely blinks as she utters some of the worst words I’veever heard. Her eyes are glazed over, like she isn’t actually living her life right now—it’s just happening to her. The news doesn’t surprise me—it shouldn’t surprise any of us—but it still twists in my gut.
Reid hugs her like she’s his own mom. On autopilot, I pull her into an embrace after him. All three of us shuffle into Chloe’s room looking somber and sullen.
Chloe rolls her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. We all knew this was what they were going to say.”
The silence is deafening.
She’s trying to make this seem like it’s not a big deal. This is happening to her—she’s the one paralyzed—yet she’s still trying to manage our emotions about it. She’s laughing, brushing this all off, but I see the beginnings of quiet defeat in her eyes.
I don’t know what to say.
Every word I know feels inadequate right now.
We sit there in silence, Chloe’s head resting against my shoulder as we watch the nurses scurry around the hospital floor. Reid is napping in the corner and Chloe’s mom is fixated on a crossword puzzle—I’m not sure where her sister is.
After an hour or so, Reid nudges me. “Sorry Addie. We need to get on the road.”
He’s right, I know he is, but it feels wrong to leave—wrong to disappear on her right as I got her back. This is my shot to be what she needs for once, and I have to go. Maybe I could skip this next competition.
Chloe glares at me as soon as I have the thought. “Addie. Don’t feel guilty. I want you to go. If I can’t ride, you might as well.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind missing it.”
“You still have a chance at making Red Bull Rampage. You have to try. For me, please?” She’s already playing the pity card, puffing out her bottom lip forcefully.
I want to roll my eyes this time—there is no way I’m making Rampage. “I don’t know, Chloe. Won’t you need help?”
“Oh no. Don’t use me as an excuse. You’re riding and that’s final.” She pauses and points at Reid. “You better make her ride.”
He’s smiling weakly. “I can’t make Addie do anything. But I’ll try.”
“Enough with the pity party. I can’t walk. It sucks. We get it. They haven’t seen what I’m capable of yet. Maybe I’ll prove them all wrong and beat you both down the track next season.”
We all know how unlikely that is, but if she can be optimistic, so can we. The goodbye is tearful—neither of us can hold back the dam any longer. Two long years of built-up feeling floods out of us. She’s the one to pull back from our embrace first. Through choked sobs she says, “If you can’t do it for you, do it for me, okay?”
