Sam’s expression gets dark. “A car accident,” he says flatly. Then, he looks at me. “Oh, Stella…”
My stomach drops. “My father and sister were in a car accident that day. That’s why I was at the hospital.”
“Yes,” Costa says. He waits for me to begin to process. “It was the same accident.”
“My father hit you.” I feel sick.
“Yes.” Costa looks sad now. “He killed me and your sister, so he tripped us.”
I can’t form words or think or begin to understand what he’s saying.
“When I went into your apartment to get your sweatshirt, I saw a picture that was facedown on the mantel, so I righted it and saw it was of your family. I know your father and sister.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t. You can’t. Shut up! Costa, shut the fuck up!”
Sam moves his chair closer to me and takes my hand.
“I don’t know why you’re making up this shit!” I’m furious with Costa for whatever twisted game he’s playing.
“I’m not making up anything. It’s why I got so crazy that afternoon after I saw the photograph, and it’s why I tripped you. I was lashing out for what was done to me.” Costa sits up in his chair and faces me. “Your father is the one who tripped me, and he tripped your sister, too. He didn’t mean to kill me in the first place, but he brought me back on purpose. And your sister? Amy is not suicidal, and she’s not a drug addict. She’s a death tripper.”
The bottle and glass fall from the arm of my chair and shatter on the tile. Sam restrains me before I can fully reach Costa, so I only get in one hard slap across his face before Sam pulls me back.
But he can’t stop me from screaming and unleashing my full fury at the lies Costa is spewing. “Fuck you! Fuck you! I hate you!” I can’t stop throwing every four-letter word I know at him, and neither Sam nor Costa tries to calm me down.
They must know it’d be futile to fight my rage. So, Sam just keeps his hold on me until my emotions eventually morph into devastation and uncontrollable tears. I close my eyes and fall apart.
Costa continues, “Amy and I went under. She was right next to me in the darkness, and she held my hand. We were freaked and terrified and…just waiting to…finish dying, to get through whatever this transitional stage was. It felt eternal, but Amy never let go of my hand. Your father appeared. He put his arms around both of us and pulled us to the surface. We were right near the car when we came up.
“I guess it was only a matter of minutes because right after there were ambulances and sirens and fire trucks…all hell broke loose. The EMTs had to strap me down to the gurney. I know now that I was surging, but…who knows what they thought? That I was having a seizure or going into some kind of crazy shock?
“Your father rode with Amy, of course. Even after my surge stopped, I didn’t know what had happened to me. If I’d made it all up, had some sort of weird near-death experience. Your father came to my room only once—for a grand total of thirty seconds. He apologized and cried, both of which were goddamn useless. Then, he told me that I could save someone if I needed to, do for another person what he did for me. That’s the only information he gave me, and it didn’t make any sense to me at the time. He left me all alone and in a private hell.
“I spent the next six months being haunted by that first trip. Tortured by it really. You mix that in with my shitty parents, my shitty life…so I tried to kill myself. For good.”
I just keep crying and crying. Every word out of his mouth makes my heart splinter further.
“I took an entire bottle of my mother’s prescription painkillers because I thought that dying was the only way out. But I came back. A week later, I tried slitting my wrists. Then, I drove my car into a brick wall. So, I just kept going and going until I understood that I couldn’t die.
“I never knew who your father was, and I never wanted to see him again. Even seeing the picture was too much. He destroyed my life—or the little that I had. But it was mine, and he turned me into this.” Costa stands up and walks slowly. He pauses near me before he leaves. “I’m so sorry, Stella, for everything. I didn’t want you to know.”
I want to scream more, but my throat is constricted and filled with the mayhem of my sorrow, so I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to.
And I don’t. There’s no place to begin.
