“Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter how it happened, just that it did. What I remember most about that day was your eyes. You were talking to me through them and it was like I understood exactly what you were saying. I mean, we didn’t speak, but I knew what you wanted. At least I think I did. Maybe I read it all wrong. Maybe you weren’t telling me what I thought you were because you never talk about that day. Why? Jake, why did it have to come to this for us to talk about what happened? I have so many questions. Why did you want me to leave you there? Why did you tell me to run? If you knew he was going to take you, why didn’t we make a stand and fight? Maybe we could have stopped him together. What did you know that I didn’t? Did he say something to you?”
I could feel myself getting heated, and had to pull back and take a few deep breaths. When I thought of that day, it brought up a lot of negative feelings and one of them was anger… toward Jake. His silence had trapped me in a sort of purgatory. I couldn’t stay in the past because it was too painful, but I couldn’t move forward because of the guilt. If he had just screamed at me, blamed me, beat the living shit out of me… anything would have been preferable to his silence.
“I tried to help you. You know I did. He slammed my head into the concrete. He broke my arm. But you could have run when he was holding me down. Why didn’t you? You could have saved yourself too, asshole. Why did you have to put it all on me? Why did you make me run instead?”
The more I talked, the more questions I had, and the more confused I became. He had to have known something I didn’t. It was the only explanation. Would I have to go through the rest of my life not knowing? How could I ever let it go if I didn’t have the closure I obviously needed? I searched his face for answers. Nothing. He was just blank. Frustrated, I drew his eyelid open with my finger.
“Are you in there?” I asked. “Jake? Wake up. Open your eyes.”
Nothing. That’s what I always got from Jake. Nothing! Rage bubbled up inside and I let loose. “Wake the fuck up, Jake. You owe me something.” I stared angrily into his clear, unfocused eye. “Do you hear me? WAKE UP! Why are you doing this to me?”
Just saying those words made me cringe. My selfishness knew no bounds. I closed his eye and smoothed his hospital gown down.
“Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t. I love you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just so tired, Jake. I guess I just… I guess I thought I’d have more time to get the answers, like our whole lives – but that never works out for us, does it?”
After running out of questions that might never be answered and feeling more exhausted than I had in a long time, I laid my head on his bed.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my lids heavy with sleep. I didn’t remember closing them.
His eyes pleadedwith me to go. I shook my head no. I wouldn’t leave him. ‘Run!’ He jerked his head toward the parking lot behind me, desperation clear on his face. ‘Run.’ So I did. As fast as I could, I ran away from them. I could hear Ray chasing me, threatening to shoot. Then Jake’s muffled screaming came from behind the gag. “Run!” The footsteps suddenly reversed, moving away from me. I turned, and Jake had taken off in the opposite direction, forcing Ray to make a decision. Him or me? Ray chose Jake. And I lived.
“Kyle?” My mom woke me at seven in the morning. I opened my groggy eyes. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, rubbing my heavy lids.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I know. You tell me everyday.”
“And I mean it everyday. Do you want to talk?”
“You know I don’t.”
Mom sighed. “Kyle. You can’t keep going like this. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m an adult and not your problem anymore.”
“I never said you were a problem.”
“Not today,” I challenged.
“Not ever.”
I scoffed. We both knew that wasn’t true. Sure, our family was falling apart as Jake lay in a coma, but this was child’s play compared to where we’d all collectively fallen that month Jake had gone missing. It had brought out the worst in every one of us. But my mother, in particular, directed her vitriol toward me and made it clear that I was to blame for Jake’s kidnapping. Maybe she hadn’t said it in so many words, but the implication was clear. My actions caused the hellfire that rained down upon our family. I was twelve
“I’m going to the apartment.”
Mom touched my forearm and our eyes met. Hers were filled with tears and regret. She had a lot of that. I’d heard “I’m sorry” from her mouth more times than I could count, and although I’d long since forgiven her betrayal, I’d never forgotten. In times of stress and anger, her guilt was the weapon I used against her. I pulled away and walked from the room.
* * *
The text camein at 2:21pm. It had to ding twice before I woke up and fumbled with my phone. I read the words but they didn’t immediately register with me. Then, suddenly my brain turned on and I bolted upright, focusing on the text.
He’s awake!!!!
A litany of messages followed, each more shocking than the next:He’s alert;trying to communicate;miracle. Jake was awake! I crazily yanked my legs into my jeans as I tried to get my shoes on at the same time, but I got all tangled up and had to force myself to slow down so I could get myself dressed just enough to make it out the door. With my shirt in hand, I ran the whole way, whizzing by hospital staff, patients, and visitors alike. “Slow down” or “No running” or “Put on some clothes” followed me down every hallway, but I didn’t listen; my only goal was getting to him. His hand? I hadn’t imagined it. He’d moved it last night! Then a thought gripped me, causing my stomach to twist in regret. If he’d been awake last night, then he’d heard everything. Oh, shit, was he going to be pissed!
By the time I got to his room, several family members were already there, gathered around the bed. Mom was leaning down, smiling as she stroked his hair. Dad looked back when he heard me come in and put his hand out to me, guiding me forward. Suddenly, I was scared. Would he still be Jake? Slowly I stepped forward, and my brother turned his head toward me. Our eyes met, and there was intensity in his. He wanted something. I wormed my way to his side and grabbed his hand.
