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She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Sometime later, she thought she heard voices—Johnny and some other man. Words drifted toward her—remarkable recovery, brain activity normal, give her time—but none of it meant anything to her so she let it go.
* * *
Johnny was still there when she woke up again. So was Margie. They stood by her bedside, talking quietly, as she opened her eyes. It felt different, this waking; she knew it instantly.
Margie saw her open her eyes and she started to cry. “There you are. ”
“Hey,” Tully croaked. It took concentration to find that simple word, to find herself in words. She said something—she didn’t know what, and she was pretty sure it didn’t make sense. She could tell that her speech was slow, a little slurry, but the way they smiled took all that away, made it meaningless.
Johnny moved closer. “We missed you. ”
Margie came closer. “There’s my girl. ”
“How long … here?” She knew there were more words that belonged in her question, but she couldn’t grab hold of them.
Margie looked at Johnny.
“You got here six days ago,” Johnny said evenly. He drew in a breath. “Your accident was on September third, 2010. ”
Margie said, “Today is August twenty-seventh, 2011. ”
“But. Wait. ”
“You were in a coma for almost a year,” Johnny said.
A year.
She closed her eyes, feeling a little flutter of panic. She couldn’t remember anything about a car accident or being in a coma, or—
Hey, Tul.
Suddenly, it was there in the darkness with her, a beautiful singular memory. Two grown women on bikes, riding side by side, their arms outstretched and … starlight … Katie beside her saying, Who says you get to die?
It couldn’t be real. She’d imagined it. That had to be the answer.
“They had me on some big drugs, I guess, right?” Tully said, opening her eyes slowly.
“Yes,” Margie said. “To save your life. ”
So that was it. In a drugged-out, half-dead state, she’d imagined her best friend. It was hardly a surprise.
“You have some physical and occupational therapy to do. Dr. Bevan has recommended an excellent therapist who will work with you. He doesn’t think it will be too long before you’re ready to live at home by yourself. ”
“Home,” she said quietly, wondering exactly where that was.
* * *
In her dream, she was in an Adirondack chair by the beach and Katie was beside her. But it wasn’t the gray, pebbled shore of Bainbridge Island stretched out in front of them, nor was it the choppy blue waters of the bay.
Where are we? her dream self asked, and as she waited for an answer, light spilled across the turquoise water, illuminated everything until it was so bright Tully couldn’t see.
When someone hip-bumps you or tells you that it’s not all about you or when our music plays. Listen and you’ll hear me in all of it.
Tully woke with a start. She sat up so quickly her breath caught and the pain in her head intensified.
Katie.
The memory of being in the light rushed at her, bowled her over. She’d been with Katie somewhere—over there—she’d held her hand, heard her say: I’ll always be with you. Whenever you hear our music or laugh so hard you cry, I’ll be there. When you close your eyes at night and remember, I’ll be there. Always.
