Page 70 of To the Moon and Back
He needed to sit down. “I’m . . . sorry, I . . .” His legs buckled and he dropped to the picnic bench.
“Brady!” She was instantly beside him.
He hated this. Hated his weakness. “I’m . . . okay.”
“You’re not.” She put her arm around his shoulders. “We can talk about it later.”
He couldn’t let his body beat him. Not now. He gripped the edge of the bench. “I’m fine . . . we can talk—” Dizziness swept over him. He was wet and shivering. He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Jenna . . .”
“What can I do?” She sounded anxious again. “Should I call someone?”
“No.” He was light-headed, trying to grasp what she was saying, why she was willing to let things fall apart just because school was starting. The thoughts chased each other around his mind, making the dizziness worse. He was so thirsty. More than ever in his life. “Water. Please.”
He could feel her get up, hear her take a few steps. But then she stopped. “It’s all buried. We have nothing.”
Brady drew a few breaths. Deep as he could get them. What was he supposed to do? The last thing he wanted was a crew of paramedics running down the bike path, trying to rescue him. He was fine. He had to be fine.
He was still hanging his head, still trying to stop the rotating. An idea hit him. Something that couldn’t hurt, given the situation. He tried to concentrate. Tried to stop the dizziness twisting his insides. God, if Jenna is so sure about You, fine. If You’re real, get me out of here. Give me the energy to get up. Make my head stop spinning. Then I’ll know.
“Brady?” She was still worried. “Can you hear me?” Jenna was sitting beside him again.
Thirst was still an issue, but he wanted to answer her. He blinked and his eyes opened. He blinked again.
The dizziness was gone.
He sat straight up and felt his heart skitter into a strange rhythm for a few seconds. What was this? How could the faintness be gone seconds after he asked God to prove Himself?
Coincidence .
Brady breathed deep and this time he felt his lungs fill with air. The way they were supposed to. His energy was returning, that was all. Random perfect timing.
He put the thought out of his head and turned to Jenna. “That was weird.” He tried to smile. “It hit so hard.”
“Like the storm.” Her face showed how worried she was. “You okay?” She had her phone out. “I can call for help.”
“No.” Brady stood. His balance was almost perfect. “I’m not dizzy anymore.” He looked at the sky. It was still stormy. “We should go.” He reached for her hand and they made their way through one of the gaping holes in the side of the structure.
At the same time a park truck drove up. The driver saw Brady and Jenna and stopped. “Everyone okay?”
“Yes, sir.” Brady felt well enough to walk on his own. As he made his way toward the pickup he noticed something. His shaking legs, his shallow breathing. The weakness and spinning. All of it was gone. Brady pointed to the collapsed shelter. “We rented bikes, but . . . they’re buried.” He looked at the driver. “Could you please give us a ride back?”
The man dropped them off at the parking lot, where the bike stand was also in a heap of rubble. Brady opened the door for Jenna, but he was too tired to help her into the truck. It took him nearly a minute to walk around the front of the rig and climb inside.
On the drive home, several times Jenna urged Brady to see the doctor.
“I’m okay, Jenna.” It was the truth, at least physically. If she wanted to worry about anything, she should worry about his heart. About both their hearts.
After that they drove in silence. Not his choice. This wasn’t how he wanted the day to finish. But she didn’t seem to feel like talking. He wanted to hear more about what she was thinking, and why she thought this beautiful thing they’d found had to end.
As they pulled up to Allison’s house, Brady didn’t walk her to the door. Jenna seemed in a hurry, and she said something about needing to get out of her wet clothes.
Brady’s desperation mixed with panic. This couldn’t be the end. “Tomorrow?”
Jenna nodded. “Yes.” She watched him for a long moment. “Ten o’clock?”
“Ten.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated before climbing out. “For saving my life today.”
