fifteen

Ryan was right about Benjamin’s parents. Mrs. Lee hugged and kissed me, thanking me over and over again. She told me I could be in his room whenever I wanted and cleared it with the nursing staff so that no one would hassle me when I showed up. She even said that Benjamin talks about me a lot and that he’s fond of me. That’s the word she used. Fond. Not exactly the word I’d be looking for, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.

I come here every day after school and just sit. This is day five, and he’s still just lying there. There’s swelling in his brain because of the force of the impact when he flew down the embankment. His head must have hit first. He also has a fractured hip and some swelling along his spinal cord.

This room looks exactly like the one I ended up in last year and it reminds me of the first conversation I had with Ryan as if it were yesterday.

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I was more tired than I could ever remember feeling. Which is why I was doubly pissed when I heard my mother talking to the guy who saved me. The great rescuer of people who would rather be left alone.

I listened to her thanking him for being a hero and to him sounding all humble. When my mother asked him what happened, my heart lurched a little, and I turned toward him. I figured he was revving up to tell her my secret so that my worst nightmare could continue.

Except he didn’t. He told my mother that I had fallen off the bridge and he’d gone in after me. That was it. End of story.

He lied for me. I couldn’t understand why the hell he would do that.

Then, making things more awkward, my mother suddenly got up and left us alone.

“Why?” My voice came out into the room without my permission.

“What?” He seemed startled that I could talk.

“Why?” I repeated.

“It looked like you were drowning. I couldn’t just sit and watch.”

“No. Not that. Why did you say I fell?”

“I…didn’t know what to say, I guess. I wasn’t sure what really happened.”

“You saw me?” I looked up at the ceiling, embarrassed that he’d probably seen me dancing in my mother’s skirt. The implications of someone catching me like that were so devastating, I couldn’t bear to think about it.

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone else see?” My voice trembled a bit, and I bit down on my lip to force some self-control.

“No. Just me. I took your…um…stuff off and hid it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you might not want anyone to see it or something. Just a guess.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes. I figured he was playing up the superhero crap for all it was worth, talking to everyone who’d listen: my mom, the doctors, his friends. Not to mention the cops.

My eyes flew open. “What will you tell the cops?”

“I guess that depends on what they ask me.”

“I don’t want anyone to know. Not yet, anyway. Just keep saying I fell off the bridge. An accident. Whatever. Just for now. Please?” The last thing I wanted was to ask him for anything, but the truth would create endless questions that I didn’t have any answers to.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll just say I saw you in the water. That’s mostly true.” He looked like he was scared of me. It was almost funny seeing as I was lying there, helpless.

Ryan did cover for me, but it didn’t help much. The adults in my life took about three seconds to realize that any version of me accidentally ending up in the water at five thirty in the morning was likely some distance from the truth.

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Looking back now, I appreciate the guts it took for Ryan to come and see me. I didn’t make it easy for him. I was too twisted up inside to worry about what he was feeling.

And now I’m still twisted up, but this time it’s because I’m worrying about Benjamin. It’s hurting my heart to just sit here waiting for him to wake up. I want to do something, but I don’t know what!

He is going to wake up. I have to believe that or I’m pretty sure my heart will go from just hurting to completely disintegrating. The doctors are calling it a coma now. I don’t know what the difference is between being unconscious and being in a coma, except that the second one sounds a lot more dramatic. I don’t want to ask or look it up because I don’t really want to know. It doesn’t matter what you label it, he’s sleeping, and eventually he’s going to wake up. He has to.

He wouldn’t like the pale green hospital gown they stuck him in. Benjamin likes bright colors, with crazy combinations that would shock your average fashion guru and look terrible on anyone but him. He also won’t be too happy when he sees his hair. There’s a big section at the back that they had to shave to clean the cut and see the damage. You can’t see it from where I’m sitting though. The rest of his hair is spread across his pillow, all fanned out like some kind of dark brown halo. His mom has been brushing it for him every day. My throat aches each time I watch her carefully taking small sections of hair and working the brush through them until every strand shimmers, making his beautiful brown hair the brightest thing in the room.

He’s so still, silent, and ghost-like under the white blanket, which is tucked cleanly into the sides of the white mattress on the white metal bed. Why is everything in a hospital so white? Do they think it makes it feel cleaner or something? Sterility denoted by a complete lack of color?

I know some people see black as the color of death, but I think it’s white. My mother has this picture of her version of heaven on the wall at home. White, billowy clouds surround several angels who are all dressed in white robes with white wings. Even their faces are white, because apparently when you go to Heaven you get a makeover so you can fit in.

I think I’d rather be in my mom’s idea of hell. At least there’s some color down there, lots of red anyway. According to Benjamin, it’s the color of life. And hell would be warmer than this place that seems to have the air conditioning on high twenty-four seven. It’s springtime outside and winter in here.

I walk over to the bed and stand looking down at Benjamin. My throat starts to swell up again, and I have to swallow several times to get it to stop. I can’t be standing here choking on tears when his mom comes back in. She’s been so incredible—talking to him as if he’s listening, reading, and playing music. Making plans for when he’s better.

All I do is stare. I don’t trust my voice, and besides, I can’t think of anything intelligent to say. It feels like we’re stuck inside some kind of strange fairy tale and Benjamin is waiting for true love’s kiss to wake him up.

Now I’m staring at his mouth.

“Hey.” Ryan’s voice startles me, and I jump a little.

“Hi,” I say to him, keeping my voice hushed as if I’m trying not to wake Benjamin up when the exact opposite is true.

“No change?”

“Not that I can see. They’re always coming in and checking things, but no one ever says anything. His mom is due back soon, so she might know more.” Ryan nods, looking over at the bed and then taking a three-sixty glance at the rest of the room.

“Man, I still remember coming in to talk to you that day. I so didn’t want to be there.” He smiles a little.

“Yeah, well, news flash. I didn’t want you there. I wanted you to go straight to hell.”

“That was fairly obvious at the time. It was probably the most awkward, uncomfortable conversation of my life.”

“We’ve had a few of those, I think.”

He looks at me for a second as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Then he sighs and nods. “I know,” he says. “I’m awkward and uncomfortable around you a lot. It makes me feel stupid, but I don’t know how to stop.”

“It’s better than it used to be. It used to suck. I didn’t know if you were my friend or my babysitter.” I’m still speaking quietly, glancing over at the bed every time I say anything.

“That’s fair. I don’t always know either. I guess I’ve always been…scared.”

“Of me? Because I’m gay?”

“No. Not that. Not at all! Just…of how sad you were. I thought if I said or did anything wrong that I could push you back.”

“Back into the water?”

“The water or something else.” He takes a deep breath and looks me straight in the eyes. “I didn’t know how to deal with thinking that you wanted to die and worrying that you might want to try it again.” He finally just puts it out there into the room where we both can see it hanging, waiting for a reaction.

My only reaction is an overwhelming sense of relief.

“I can understand that. It would make it hard to relax around me.” I try a smile, and he grins back a little.

“It’s not like that so much now though. You seem…different. Not so sad. Even now, when you’re so worried about Benjamin, I don’t feel that…panic thing around you that I used to.” He shrugs uncomfortably. He’s doing some Clare-style talking here and is obviously miles out of anything resembling his comfort zone. I feel a bit sorry for him, but I’m glad he’s doing it.

“I am different. And you don’t have to panic around me anymore. So, does this mean you’re done with the whole Super Ryan thing?”

“Super Ryan? You call me that too? I thought that was Cody’s obnoxious nickname for me.”

“I won’t call you that anymore. You’re not so super anyway.”

“Nope. I’ll pass that one over to you. Super Jack.”

“Jackson.”

We both turn toward the bed. My heart starts beating so hard that it sounds like a helicopter just flew into the room as I look into Benjamin’s open eyes.

“Super Jackson,” he says softly, as his lips curve ever so slightly into a smile.