I hear the words, but they don’t register. Nothing does. My heart is deadened, my body anesthetized.
Suddenly, I’m back on top of the mountain, handing Jacob the sandwich I’d made for him. I’m looking into his loving eyes, seeingour future together—an entire lifetime of undying love. Happiness. A home. Children. Grandchildren. Buried side by side.
Sickness rises in my abdomen. I need to vomit. My upper body convulses as I try to sit up. Mom grabs a stainless steel pan from the side table and shoves it under my chin just in time for me to expel the contents of my stomach, which is mostly nothing. But the convulsions are violent, and I feel like I’m choking.
When it’s over, I lie back on the pillow and try to recover. What my father has just said to me still hasn’t registered. It can’t be right. Jacob can’t be gone.
“What happened?” I ask. “Where did he die? In the helicopter? Or in the hospital? When? Just now?”
I need to know every detail before I can believe it. Until then, it’s not true.
Both my parents sit down, hold my hands, and kiss them.
“He died instantly from the fall,” Mom says. “He was gone when the rescue helicopters arrived. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
I can’t think or move. I’m confused because that’s not right. “No,” I say. “He was alive on the beach. He held my hand and talked to me until I was rescued. He can’t be gone.”
Suddenly I’m falling again. Down the mountain. The horrendous, unstoppable slide. Burning panic. The certainty that I’m going to die. My flesh tearing away, my heart on fire.Jacob!
Mom presses the call button, and a nurse runs into the room.
“She woke up,” Dad says.
“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Mom adds.
I hear sobs and screams and realize they’re coming from me. I’m shouting, “No!”
How could this have happened? We only wanted to enjoy a day outdoors instead of the library. Jacob has a quiz on Monday. This isn’t happening!
A second nurse runs into the room. She picks up the tubing attached to my arm and inserts a needle into the injection port. Overthe next few seconds, I begin to feel dizzy and displaced. I see Jacob’s face and feel his hand on my cheek. He tells me that he loves me.
All I want is our beautiful life together, today and forever. I don’t realize I’m sobbing and crying until the sedative takes effect and my breathing slows. My body shudders with relief, but I hate myself for giving in to this physical solace because it’s artificial. It’s not Jacob. He’s gone. His life is over. Mine is too.
Oblivion comes quickly and blessedly, but I know that no medication can fix this. Emotionally, I am adrift in a cold sea where there’s no rescue or remedy.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here. I’m groggy from drugs, and I don’t want to face reality. I just want to stare at the wall and pretend that this is a nightmare, one from which I will eventually wake.
Time passes. I don’t care. Nothing matters.
Then the medications start to wear off, and I feel the ache and sting of a broad swath of bloody gashes down my back.God, please help me ...
My head pounds, and my torso feels like a tractor trailer jackknifed into it.
“Is Scooter dead too?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Mom, unaware that I’d been awake for the past minute or so, sits forward in her chair. “He’s at a vet hospital,” she tells me. “But he’s not doing well.”
I turn my head on the pillow and look at her, detached. “What does that mean?”
She rubs my shoulder. “He was badly injured, sweetheart. They might have to put him down.”
I become instantly alert. I try to sit up, but it hurts everywhere. “No!”
Mom tries to settle me, but I won’t be settled.
“Don’t let them do that!”
I’m staggered by the flash of a memory—the terror in Scooter’s eyes, fixed on mine, when he was fighting to claw his way back to safety.
