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“Call 911,” he said, throwing me his phone.
I keyed in the numbers, watching my brother tilt our sister’s head back, then check her airway and blow a puff of breath into her mouth. While I stammered and sobbed into the phone, trying to remember our address, Rocko did chest compressions. One, two, three, four, five to fifteen, and went back to her mouth. I looked away, dread growing that I would be alone if he was unable to revive Lucy. I knew in my heart that she wasn’t coming back. Despair washed over me.
Dispatch stayed on the line with me while Rocko continued to perform CPR with no results.
When the squad finally arrived, our parents on their heels, Rocko was crying hysterically, screaming at Lucy to breathe. The EMTs took over, and Rocko grabbed me, dragging me to the corner of the room, out of the way. They didn’t tell us to leave, and we were out of Lillian and George’s way, too. I couldn’t bear to watch them. Rocko bent down and hugged me, his head on my shoulder, sobbing. It took me a few minutes to calm down as numbness took over, where it had remained until now.
How long had she lain there? The coroner said hours. Guilt. I shouldn’t have left her alone. One of the most important nights, and she was alone.
My parents collapsed after the reality of her death hit. I know my father will never recover. Lillian is tougher, but I’ve seen cracks lately, and that scares me. I need my parents to stay strong. I can’t deal with guilt about them, too.
Lights swept across the parking lot, and I looked up to see the old Acura, a concerned Flynn at the wheel. He brought the car to a stop without taking his eyes off me. He got out and came around to the driver’s side of the car and reached for me, picking me up and holding me in his arms while I cried.
With his back against my car, he held me like that, like I was a baby, for a while longer, until I came to my senses.
My head was on his shoulder, and his lips were right there, so I kissed him. It was a moist, tear-filled kiss, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” I said, pushing myself to my feet, out of his arms. “That was a wet one.”
“It’s how I like them,” he said, refusing to allow me to get too far away. “What happened?”
Without getting too graphic, I told him the basic memory.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” he said, holding me. “How sad.”
“I’ve managed to stay pretty numb. The accident changed all that.”
We talked about that for a while, and the impact it had had on both our lives.
“I wish the weekend was just starting,” Flynn said. “I can’t stand it that work starts tomorrow. I want us to be together.”
“I’m going back, too,” I said.
“Can we stay in touch?” he asked, his eyebrows up, his expression worried.
“I work evenings, as you might remember. So I’m available all day.”
“I have office hours on Mondays, which are usually pretty hectic and will probably be terrible tomorrow, but I’ll stop by the car wash after I’m done.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked.
“Lightening doesn’t strike twice in the same place,” he said, rubbing my back. “It’ll be fine. I don’t think Skippy will care either.” He snickered, and that made me laugh.
“Skippy might offer you a free Slushy.”
“Okay, I’ll take it. But what are we going to do about you?”
I disengaged myself from his hold and smoothed my hair back. I could stay in that state, feeling sorry for myself, for the rest of my life, but I had to be realistic. “I’m going to stay in my one-day-at-a-time mode. It’s the way I’ve survived thus far.”
“So if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Gotcha.”
“It’s broken, but there’s no way to fix it,” I replied.
“Anyway, can I drag you to my house, or do you have more business here?”
“No, I’m ready to leave,” I said, looking around the empty parking lot. “I’ll follow you.”
He opened my car door, and I got in. Leaning on the roof, he looked down at me.
