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Half paying attention to the news on the TV that I clicked to and half searching for a bridesmaid dress, a task that Claire has so gracefully bestowed upon me as maid of honor, I reach for a magazine we have yet to comb through.
Claire suddenly sits up from her slumped position, her hand waving at me to get my attention. “El,” she mouths, a faint whisper calling out my name.
“What?”
“L–look,” she stutters as she slowly hands her phone to me. I take her phone in my hand, grabbing the edges as my eyes land on the image on the screen.
It’s me and Rhylan. Our picture, posted on his Instagram page, where a blue check mark sits next to his name.
Me and him.Plastered all over the internet for everyone to see. It’s the same picture I sent him after he took me out into the ocean, where we spent a day escaping reality. It was such a simpler time. When we didn’t know what would become of us, and the anticipation of it only left us hopeful instead of damaged. When we leapt headfirst into what we believed could be great.
I scroll down to see what he’s written in the caption.
I met someone. And I fell in love. I didn’t expect this to happen, but it did. I met someone who saw me for who I am. She broke down a lot of barriers that I didn’t even know I had and allowed me to be me. I don’t know if soulmates are real, but I feel like this is the closest thing I could imagine soulmates ever being.
But I messed up, and I quit when I thought I was going to fail. And now I lost someone who means a lot to me.
The reason I’m telling all of you this today is so that I can come clean. To squash any rumors that you might hear and for everyone to know that this is the real deal. For now, all that I ask of everyone is to have faith in me and to not listen to all of the rumors. So that I can set the record straight. There are a lot of truths that need to be told, and I’m starting with mine.
To all of my fans, thank you for standing by me. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.
My heart stops for a second. It skips a beat as I bring my hand over my chest to clutch it, to make sure it’s still there and not dropped into my stomach where I feel it has gone. The words that he said, him confessing his love for me to the entire world. This isn’t some small gesture like buying me flowers or taking me on a yacht. This is out there for everyone to see.
Even with the revelation that his words are out there, there’s another one that dawns on me. He loves me. Heabsolutelyloves me. He loves me enough to put everything on the line, to stand up for me so that I can stake my place in his life. To prove to me that he would do anything to bring me back to him, to bring us back together.
I need to see him, to talk to him. To let him know that I love him too. That he is enough. Everything he did, all of the hurt that we both had to endure, it won’t be the end of us. It’ll only add to the already growing love that I know sprang to life in the midst of our turmoil.
I’m scrambling to get my belongings, trying to retrace my steps, when I realize my keys are missing. I hear the volume go up as Claire points the remote towards the TV, the news anchor speaking distinctly while enunciating words likeflames, crash,andaccident.
Both Claire and I stare, our hands over our mouths and eyes bulging into saucers, as our attention becomes fixated on the screen.
“Rhylan Matthews has been rushed to San Gabriel Valley Medical Center after an unfortunate accident at Irwindale Speedway during a charity event with the Children’s Hospital. It appears Matthews was struck by another vehicle while at the event when it lost control. We are unsure of Matthews’s condition at this time but know that he was unconscious when he was pulled from the wreckage. Reporting from San Gabriel Valley…”
Everything around me becomes muffled. Even the news anchor, with her squinted eyes and wind blowing her hair to a fluffy ball of knotted locks, sounds distant. Her lips are still moving, but I don’t hear any words leave her mouth. What I see are the images the news helicopter managed to capture while hovering around the racetrack. Charcoal smoke rising from a gnarled mess of orange flames and tarmac. Emergency response teams working furiously to contain the fire and controlling the crowd.
I also see the remnants of Rhylan’s car. The taillights and back bumper are the only parts untouched as the rest is mangled in a mess of metal and glass. I cling, grasping desperately to the one fact that’s keeping me from falling apart and wishing that I could be engulfed in those very flames. He isn’t in there. He’s far away, in the hospital. The same hospital my dad died in.
“I’ll drive,” Claire says, her voice stern and authoritative.
I don’t argue, my eyes ping-ponging from the TV screen to her phone still held in my hand. Two images that display such different plights. Life and death.
The metal from Claire’s keys scrapes across the counter before she heads towards the door. “Let’s go.”
FIFTY
ELLIE
Claire pulls to a stop in front of the emergency room doors, the familiar blaring red sign welcoming me without realizing how unwelcome I felt. How much I wish I could be anywhere else but here.
Outside the hospital, lining the edge of the parking lot and filtering onto the sidewalk, news vans and cameras are set up. Pointing towards the entrance of the building as reporters speak into their microphones. What they’re saying, I don’t know, but I can guess it’s about Rhylan. Whether or not he’s okay. If he’s alive.
My hurried steps stumble me to the reception area. Everyone around me looks so unconcerned and apathetic when all I want is to scream at them that the love of my life could be dead. His body lying lifelessly in a hospital bed. I don’t know what I’m saying when I approach the desk, but my hands splay in front of me on the hard counter. I plead to the woman sitting behind the partition. As if she can determine whether or not Rhylan survives this.
“I’m looking for Rhylan Matthews,” I say through a strangled voice, the tears threatening as I’m hit with a fresh wave of ache thinking about how my mom said the same words, looking for my dad. Making the same plea, bargaining with an absent god. For his life. For Rhylan’s life.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she answers, unbudging and irritable. “We can’t—”
“Oh my God,” another voice calls from behind the receptionist. “You’re that girl.”
