Page 55 of The Significance of Moving On

More time slips and I wake up on a bed. Someone examines me while another takes samples of my blood. It only seems like a second later but it couldn’t be a second because lab work takes longer than that, I know this. Still, after the second that wasn’t a second, someone tells me that concentrations of Ecstasy have been found in my blood, too.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I wouldnevertake drugs.” I defend my character even though nothing the doctors, nurses or hospital employed social worker have said accused me of anything. Was there anyone else with us who would have access to drugs?PossiblyDaniel.But that’s not what I tell them, those doctors who are only here to help.

I throw my hand out to point at the window. “It was South Beach.” The IV tube pulls and I wince from the pain. “Anybody could’ve done this to us.”

The doctor gives me a look that says he agrees with me.

Despite how crappy I feel and how much further the situation will deteriorate into crap once the call is made, I do the right thing and phone Demetrius.

In a moment of lucidity, once we are allowed to visit with Kelsey, we four girls agree not to mention Daniel because we can’t be sure he did anything wrong and we’d hate to break up their family even more.

Five hours after I made the call Kelsey is still groggy with Demetrius holding her in his arms, lovingly stroking her soft, auburn hair down to her shoulders. I kiss her forehead, give D a tight hug and excuse myself.

Several missed texts and calls have piled up in the log on my phone. They’re all from Casey.Casey.What do I even tell him? Outside of U of Miami Medical the Miami sun sits at its highest point in the sky blanketing us in warmth. Apparently, the weather had no clue we’d had a crappy day. Or maybe it’s because it hasn’t ended the same way as before. Tom died and it rained. Kelsey lived and it’s sunny. I find a bench in the hospital’s courtyard near the entrance and dial his number.

“Tal,” he answers on the first ring. The first ring. As if he’s been anticipating this call. “What the hell happened? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you answer your phone?” His words keep spilling out not giving enough pause for me to answer any one of them.

“Tally?” he says again much slower than before. “Are you okay?” It’s only now that I realize that I’ve started crying.

With Casey’s voice on the other end to calm me, I lean forward elbows to knees and breathe out. “I’m fine. It—it was so close.”

“I wanted to come but—”

“You spent all your money on this trip for me, I get it. Casey, I’m coming back today.”

“Sure.”

“You know what that means.”

“I do.” I wish I could tell what he’s doing. What does his face look like? Is my heart about to be broken?

“Does this mean you have an answer for me?”

“Let’s not discuss it over the phone.”

Oh boy. “Okay.”

Okay.Such a little word to be loaded down with such tension, hurt or happiness. It’s the last words we speak to each other because I can’t, I just can’t talk to him as if everything is fine if it’s not. I almost lost my friend today and need him to hold me, to remind me that she’ll be fine and that everything will, in fact, be okay. But he sounds as somber as I feel. This is probably going to be the end for Casey and me.

Pam, Ann and I stand at the airport, carry-ons by our feet hugging the way three friends who know they probably won’t see each other again hug awkwardly. They’re heading back to Edgewood a few days early. I envy them, watching those girls head toward their check in. Life is still easy in that carefree high school way for them. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll have a place to live when I get back.

Then it’s my turn to check in. And wait.

Four hours and forty minutes after final boarding, the plane touches down at MBS International. I amreadyto be off this flight because it’s been four hours and forty minutes of perpetual worry and my nerves can’t take it any longer.

The little bell dings and unclicking seatbelt sounds ripple up and down the aisle. The first people push by. I stand, smoothing down the Dr. Pepper T-shirt, the one I’d stolen from Casey because it reminded me of a happy time for us and of how his eyes had lit up the first time he’d seen me wear it. Maybe they’ll light up this time, too.

As excited as I am to be home, to see Casey, god—I’m shaking from nerves. He didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. How can that be a good sign? How can it? The flight attendant walks to my side flipping open the door to the overhead bin like he thinks I can’t handle it.

He’s nice, just doing his job. I accept my bag and say thanks, but I don’t move. He clears his throat loudly. That’s when the long line of passengers waiting to disembark behind me demands my attention, and that I get moving.

It’s a slow trek down the ramp. My feet feel heavy and I’m still tired from this morning. I chew on my thumbnail wondering what is Casey going to say? I’m not the mind reader. That was always his job. But what if he doesn’t want the job any longer? And I can’t shake my suspicion that he might not.

When I reach the terminal, I enter into what can only be described as one of those airport movie scenes. Me, standing at the end of the ramp. People pass by all around me, but they cease to be people anymore replaced by blurs of color, and all sound is sucked away to where I’m standing in a complete sphere of silence because he’s here. He’s here. With blurs of color speeding by him as well. Casey stares at me. Just stares—those pained, blue eyes sparking the brand he’s branded on my soul. My insides heat to cherry red, then to white igniting my heart. He ignites my heart. Ignites it.

My lips, my tongue and mouth are all dry—moisture evaporated from the buildup of heat now radiating inside me. I know what to call it. The heat has a name and it’s love. The heat is love.

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