Why did that happen? Was it a dirty trick from Mother Nature to lure us to a place we shouldn’t have gone?
Mom scrambles to get out of the car and help me, but I wave her away. “I’m fine.” I squeeze the handgrips, swing my body forward, and start toward the front entrance.
Mom jogs to keep up and overtakes me just in time to hold the glass door open. I hop into the reception area and make eye contact with the lady at the front desk. “We’re here for Scooter.”
Her expression warms. “Yes, he’s been waiting for you. Have a seat, and we’ll bring him out.”
“How is he?” I ask impatiently, before she leaves.
“He’s doing very well. He’s quite a fighter. An incredible spirit.”
I take from her response that she understands how stacked the odds had been against him. Clearly, no one believed that he would pull through, except for me. And I’m grateful that he has. He didn’t give up. Maybe he’s meant to be an example for me. If he could survive our ordeal, maybe I can too.
I move to a black leather chair, set my crutches aside, and sit down. My parents sit on chairs on either side of me. And we wait.
The door behind the reception desk opens, and a technician in navy blue scrubs brings Scooter out on a leash. “Here he is,” she says cheerfully.
Scooter limps out with a cast on his back leg, and the sight of him tears me apart. He’s wearing a plastic cone, and his back is marked with a grisly, stitched-up scar. There’s a bandage over his left eye, and his head hangs low.
I watch him for a few seconds and feel sick to my stomach. I can’t bear to imagine what he must have gone through on the beach and here in the hospital, alone.
“Scooter,” I gently say as I sit forward and hold out my hands. God willing, the sound of my voice will help him remember his joyful life, from before.
His head lifts. He sniffs the air, and then his unbandaged eye finds me. His legs give out, and he falls onto the tile floor. I rise from the chair and hobble closer without my crutches. He sniffs my fingers, and his tail starts to wag. He licks my hands, and I nearly lose my balance.Dad gets up to help steady me, and I start laughing and crying at the same time.
“There’s my good boy. My sweet boy.” I hug him and kiss his cheek over and over. “Everything’s going to be okay now, my darling. I’m here.” He keeps licking my cheeks, and it feels so good I can’t stop crying.
Returning home from the hospital is harder than I expected. Physically, it’s not easy for me or Scooter to climb the stairs to my bedroom, which is the first place I want to go. It’s been an exhausting day, and all I want to do is curl up in bed with Scooter, hug him close, and sleep for a year. But when I walk into my room and rest my crutches against the dresser, I stare at the pink comforter, which I’ve had since junior high, and remember all the nights I talked to Jacob on the telephone. Back then, our relationship was new and exciting, full of promise. We never imagined that we wouldn’t be together forever, or that one of us would die young.
Mom enters the room behind me, and I jump when she lays her hand on my shoulder.
“This room is full of memories,” I say.
She nods slowly in agreement. “How can we make this easier for you? Would you like to sleep in the guest room? Or maybe we could think about redecorating, when you’re ready.”
“No,” I reply. “I don’t want to change a thing. I don’t want to let anything go.”
She touches my shoulder. “I understand, sweetheart. It’s going to take time.”
“What’sgoing to take time?” I snap back, offended. “Forgetting about him? Moving on? Because I’m never going to do that. Iwon’t.” I limp to the bed and sit awkwardly on the edge of it. “He was it for me. The only one I wanted.”
Tears come for me again. Panic, sorrow. I don’t know how to handle it all.
“You’re very young,” Mom says. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Years and years to heal from this.”
“But what if I don’t want to forget him?” I reply, resisting the idea of an entire life, years and years, without Jacob.
Mom looks at me with sympathy and anguish and takes me into her arms. While she holds me, I try to imagine a future where I can laugh and feel joyful again, but I don’t know how that will ever be possible. The only thing my heart knows, in this moment, is sadness.
Part Two
Years and Years
2006
Chapter Five
If the Ocean Was Beer
