Page 12 of Wrapped in Hope

Chapter 5

I spendthe next three days in the hospital, mechanically doing everything they tell me. I eat, drink, and sleep, but none of it is for me. I’d rather die. But I can’t stand to watch the pain reflecting in my parents’ eyes any longer. The pain I’m going through is enough. I can’t look at them and see more of it.

The doctor finally came in and told me that I have a concussion, two broken ribs, one of which punctured my lung, and cuts, bruises, and scrapes all over my body. I don’t know how I got so lucky when Dean was crushed to death. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

We’re always told to wear our seatbelts, that they will protect us, but he wore his and I didn’t, and I’m the one alive right now. It contradicts everything I thought I knew. I thought I would get to spend my life with Dean, but now he’s gone. What do I have left to live for? I still don’t even know what I want to go to college for, and since Dean was supposed to go with me, if I go now, I’ll just be reminded of his absence. I can’t sit at home and wallow in self-pity either. Being at home and never seeing him will only highlight that he’s gone. I’ll be constantly looking out my window waiting to see him pull into his driveway. I’ll be sitting still, listening for the loud rumble of his truck as it makes its way down our street. Everything I do or don’t do will just be another reminder that I’m alone, living when he’s not.

I’m finally discharged from the hospital, but I’m just as lost as ever. When we pull into the driveway, and my dad opens my door for me, I step out and the first thing I do is look at his house. I’m home after our trip, but he’s not, and never will be again. His aunt and uncle have to live with that. I have to live with that.

Hot tears flood my eyes again and my breathing comes in sort puffs. My chest literally hurts with the weight of his loss. Scenes from that day flash before my eyes: his big smile, our conversation, that deer jumping in front of his truck, my scream, excruciating pain, the sounds of shattering glass and metal bending. Everything goes black.

* * *

I jumpawake and look around me to see that I’m in my bed. I must have fainted. Nothing more hurts though so I guess my dad must have caught me before I hit the ground. I take a few minutes to slow my rapid breathing while wiping the sweat from my forehead. I feel like I just woke from a nightmare, like I could look out my window right now and see his truck setting there like any other day. I slowly lean forward, wrapped in a blanket of hope, and pull back my curtain to see an empty spot in his driveway.

My heart cracks a little more. I let out the breath I was holding as I release the curtain, letting it shadow my room once again in loss and despair.

I stand from my bed slowly and make my way towards the door. I need something to drink and some pain medication. My ribs hurt so bad I don’t even want to breathe. I walk down the stairs as carefully as I can, but come to a stop at the bottom, listening as my mom and dad talk.

“What did the doctor say about her little episode?” my dad asks.

“He said it was completely normal for someone with her injuries and grief to lose consciousness. He said to let her rest as often as she needs for the next week until he sees her again.”

I walk into the kitchen and they both fall silent. I look at the two of them before walking to the fridge for a bottle of water. All they do is watch me, unmoving, like they think I’m going to break any minute.

Without saying a word to them, I turn back for my room.

“Oh, Hope,” my mom says, drawing my attention back to her.

I turn around to see her holding out a manila envelope.

I reach out and take it. “What’s this?”

“Your belongings from the hospital,” she answers quietly.

Without saying anything, I take it from her hand and turn around to go back to my room as quickly as my sore body will let me.

I sit on my bed and look at the envelope, wondering if my broken heart can take what’s inside. With a surge of bravery, I pour the contents out in front of me. My eyes land on my ring first. I thought I lost it in the crash. I pick it up, almost breathless as I stare at the small diamond, remembering our weekend. Remembering how the spaghetti was burned because we were too busy loving one another to pay attention. Remembering every worry line on his face before he pulled out this ring. I can see his blue-green eyes like I’m looking directly into them.

I slide the ring back onto my finger and stare at my hand. Tears wrack my body once again. I’m a sobbing mess as they rush from my eyes, down my heated cheeks and fall to my bed, leaving circular wet spots on my bed sheet.

The only other item in the envelope is my phone. I try to turn it on, but it’s dead. I turn and plug it in with the charger next to my bed. After I lay it down to charge, I curl up in a ball while watching the diamond on my ring shine when the light touches it, remembering every single moment we’ve had together.

I wake sometime later when my phone chimes. I pick it up and look at the missed call I have. It’s from my friend, Abby. I ignore it. I’m sure I know what that voicemail says anyway.

I drop the phone back to the bedside table and my eyes land on my camera that is perched on my desk. My parents must have claimed my belongings from the wreckage.

I slowly force myself up and walk across the room. I pick up the camera. The lens is busted, but I turn it over and pull out the memory card. I grab my laptop and take both items back to my bed with me.

When I’m settled beneath the thick blankets, I put the memory card into the slot on my computer and watch as all the pictures pop up on the screen. I start flipping to the end of the reel to see the ones I had taken over the weekend. I see the picture of us on the front steps of the cabin before we left. Seeing the love on his face as he looked at me brings on another bout of tears.

I zoom in so I can clearly see nothing but his face. He looks healthy and happy. His jet black hair is neatly styled, his blue-green eyes shine with the sun beating down on them, and his lips are turned up into a loving smile.

It was all my fault. He took me there because I wanted to go. I shouldn’t have been talking to him. I should have let him concentrate on driving. He’s gone because of me. I’m wracked with grief. I cry and cry until I can cry no more, then I fall asleep.

* * *

Another three days later,it’s time for his funeral. I don’t know if I can do this. Will his aunt and uncle even want me there? Will everyone see that I’m to blame and hate me? I don’t like the thought of being treated unfairly, but I kind of hope they do. I want them to blame me. It is my fault after all. I want everyone to hate me just as much as I hate myself. I deserve so much more than that.