Michael
The minutes ticked by without either one of us talking. I watched as Dax shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable. He blew out a series of short breaths, every one ramping up my own anxiety.
“After I told Justin that you and I were friends, his mood totally changed,” he informed me. His eyes drifted to the far side of the room, and I knew he’d figured out that Justin and I used to be really close. “You’ll probably be pissed, but we got to talking about you. More specifically, we were talking about why you are the way you are. He told me some things that I think we need to talk about if you were serious about that kiss.”
I felt his fingers grip me tighter, as if he was afraid I was going to run away. “I know you don’t want to, but I need you to tell me about your nightmares.”
He wasn’t offering me a friendly ear the way he had so many times in the past. This time, it felt as if he was demanding answers. But I couldn’t figure out why that would have him like this. It was completely illogical, even though it was something I still wrestled with.
As much as I didn’t want to talk about that night, I owed it to him. He needed to know why I woke up in a panic sometimes. He needed to know that my tears weren’t for Erica, but rather for a man I’d never actually met. Losing her hurt, but the night of the accident was the first time I’d held a dying person in my arms. I couldn’t imagine an experience like that was easy for anyone to forget.
I excused myself long enough to duck into the garage and grab the last two beers from the fridge. It wasn’t strong enough and there wasn’t nearly enough of it, but it was something. I settled into the couch and rested my elbows on my knees. My stomach churned and I honestly thought I might have to run out of the room to vomit. Now that he was forcing me to tell him about that night, I felt weak.
I angled my body away from him as I started telling him about that night. About the fight I’d been having with Erica and how she didn’t understand why I couldn’t always be at her beck and call. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her, but I was busting my ass trying to give her the life she deserved. I hadn’t intended to lay it all out quite so bare, but I even admitted to him that I had gotten to the point where I wasn’t sure Erica and I were meant to be together because we were in completely different places in our lives and had different aspirations.
Bile rose in my throat as I told him about the motorcycle off in the distance. I knew what was coming. I could see it in my mind as clearly now as ever. Those images would never fade.
“That doesn’t explain why Justin thinks you started pushing him away after that night,” Dax said when I stopped short of telling him about the accident.
“He and I were good friends, and he’d called to ask me to cover his shift on the ambulance,” I responded. My voice was dead and hollow. I felt ready to go to sleep, because I realized that no matter how many times I’d talked to someone or thought about that night, this was the first time I was seeing it through fresh eyes. I’d somehow managed to distance myself, which I never thought was possible. Tonight, the scene in my mind was more like a movie than a memory. “She was upset because she’d planned this elaborate announcement to let me know she was pregnant. Looking back now, it was just another sign that she really didn’t know who I was.”
“How so?” He shifted closer to me on the couch. I shrugged him off when he tried to reach out to me. I was getting ready to tell him what a selfish prick I used to be. I didn’t deserve his comfort.
“She thought it was the greatest thing in the world that she was pregnant, but I couldn’t push away the feeling that my life was over.” I huffed out a bitter chuckle. “If only I’d known then how easy my life was.”
“Okay, but why do you have nightmares about that night?” He’d cut me off before the screeching tires, the smoke in my mirror, and the true horror of that night.
“Everything was a blur.” My voice shook and I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks. “I knew there was a motorcycle coming toward me. It sounds stupid, but his headlight was serving as a beacon as I drove into town. I focused on that light as a reminder that I needed to pay attention to my driving no matter what Erica was screaming at me about. Then, she blurted out that she was pregnant, and the next thing I know, I heard squealing tires.
“I checked my mirror, and the motorcycle was gone. Then, I saw the red taillight shining through the smoke.” I couldn’t stop the convulsions and my words became stuttered. No way was Dax going to want me after this. He had everything in his life sorted out, even though he insisted he hadn’t always been so levelheaded, and here I was falling apart over an accident that happened years ago.
I risked a glance at Dax and saw that he’d gone white as a sheet. He kept opening his mouth to say something, but the words never came. I kept going, wanting to purge the memories from my mind without allowing him to tell me, the same as everyone else had, that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to hear that-not from him.
“I know, it’s fucked up, but I’ve never been able to forget that night,” I told him. I wanted to get this over with so whatever was going to happen could. “Everyone told me I needed to let it go, but how are you supposed to just forget about holding a dying man in your arms? Knowing that you, the future doctor, couldn’t think clearly enough to properly render aid?”
Dax muttered something under his breath and bolted off the couch. He stumbled, but quickly recovered. He walked to the front window and stared out at the dark street. When he spun around, he looked…stunned. “They were right that you can’t let that incident define you,” he spat at me. “You don’t get to turn yourself into the bad guy. It wasn’t your fault.”
He stalked back to me and crouched in front of me. “Jesus, do you have any clue that you were the fucking hero that night?”
Dax was trying to help, but he was the clueless one. I wasn’t a hero. I still don’t know how it happened, but I knew in my gut that I caused that accident. I’d taken my attention off driving for a split second and it could have killed a man. Maybe that was why I couldn’t let go. Because even though Justin told me that the guy had lived, I knew it could have been so much worse.
“Don’t say that!” I shoved his shoulder as I tried to get away, knocking him off balance. He hit the floor with a loud groan. When I looked down, I felt like a monster. He was massaging the hip he always favored. “I know you’re trying to protect me, just like everyone else, but you can’t say that. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. I’m the one who was reckless. I could have killed a man that night. For a long time, I thought I had.
“When they loaded him into the ambulance, they were still trying to find a pulse. I wanted to shove everyone out of the way and get in there to work on him myself because I was the one who caused the accident, but they wouldn’t let me.” I shrugged, feeling myself becoming detached from the story. “They were absolutely right that I was in no shape to do anything, including drive, but that didn’t make me less pissed off. I watched that ambulance drive away, the red and white lights shimmering in the fog that had started settling in, and it was the first time in a long time that I prayed. I swore to God that I’d do anything if the driver was okay. And yeah, I know that he’s alive and out there somewhere, but I never found out anything beyond that.”
Dax pushed himself off the floor and hobbled his way over to the firm chair in the corner of the room. I reminded myself that it was likely because it was easier for him to get in and out of than the couch, but it still felt as though he was trying to put distance between us.
He went back to staring out the window, never glancing back in my direction when he started to speak. His words were so quiet I strained to hear him. “He’s fine,” he whispered. “He sees you as an angel. You saved his life in more ways than one that night.”
“What are you talking about?” I scoffed. Maybe Dax had more to drink than I’d realized. He made no sense.
“The guy on the motorcycle,” Dax clarified. “Everyone told him about the EMT who saved his life that night. It was because of your quick thinking that emergency personnel got there so quickly. And yeah, he was hurt, in a coma for a while, in fact, but he’s mostly recovered now.”
“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!” I shouted. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, just like everyone else has over the years, but you can’t. Okay? Please, Dax, get it through your head. I know I’m a mess because of this, but I don’t want you spinning some story about what might have happened after that night to try and get me to forgive myself.”
Dax stood and crossed the room until he was standing before me, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Would you shut up and listen to me?” he demanded. “I’m not telling you a story because it’ll make you feel better. I’m doing this because you need to know the truth.”
When I tried to look away, I felt his fingers curl around my chin and force my gaze to meet his.
