Authors: Michele G Miller
* * *
"As you can probably guess, I was
so
ready to get home to Mom and Jason. I wanted to wrap my arms around them and never let go."
"The ride home was slow and difficult, to say the least. A lot of the roads were blocked off, and people had left their cars lined all the way up and down the streets. We ran into Katie and her parents on our way out of the hospital, and since they came to the hospital with Dad, we brought them home."
"Katie sat in the middle, between me and her mom. At this point, I think we were all in shock. Our arms were wrapped together and we clutched our hands tightly. She told me who all had been found so far, and who she saw at the hospital."
Jules swallows. "She also made me aware that there were still kids missing, and how you were one of them."
She stares at the camera and thinks about the names they listed off that night, but she doesn’t say them out loud…Tanya, Candy and Stuart, among others.
She makes herself continue. "Being in the car, we were finally getting more information on what happened. According to the radio, most of the storm damage was confined to the business district and two neighborhoods. I recall sitting there numbly as they reported updated stats."
Jules mimics the businesslike voice of the radio reporters. "Remington's restaurant roof was pulled off, EMS is reporting three casualties and an unknown number of missing. Hillsdale High School has been leveled, according to Fire and Rescue. No reports of casualties there."
"We all gasped. Seriously
—
you could hear five people pull their breath in, all at the same time. Katie and I exchanged these mirrored, bug-eyed looks of shock. Of course she looked at me and immediately brought up Stuart, and Dad reminded us how the reporter had said there were no casualties. He told us to stay positive.”
“We dropped the Luther's at home and pulled into our driveway fifteen minutes later. I could still hear the sounds of emergency vehicle sirens in the distance as Dad held my elbow and walked me to the door. The minute it opened, Mom and Jason came running for me. We all fell to the floor, hugging and crying."
Taking a moment, Jules looks off camera
. From where she sits, a large family picture taken two years ago is visible, hanging over the formal living area couch. A wistful smile creeps
up her lips as she looks at Jason with his white-blond hair and a big gap where his last tooth had fallen out.
"You know, as happy as I was to be home and alive at that moment, I couldn't help but think of all the people who weren't so lucky. I think about it constantly. When I went to bed that night, I lay awake and thought about all of you; all of the other cheerleaders, football players, friends from school, parents or lovers who might be laying injured
—
or worse
—
somewhere amidst the wreckage."
Jules admits something, as if telling a secret. "I couldn't help but think of West and how he called me Buffy. How he held my hand and saved my life.” She nods almost dreamily. "Yeah, West Rutledge was definitely on my mind that night, too. Geez, I finally made it home, and I got to have my teary-eyed reunion with my family. But as I sat there with them, happy to be okay, I was also torn. I knew this event, this moment, would change me for the rest of my life. I knew I would no longer be the carefree girl I was a few hours before. I knew nobody would be the same after that night in Tyler."
She sits forward, perches on the edge of her seat and looks at herself on the television. Her face, the stoic, serious face looking at her, is so different than it once was. She's seen so much; been through too much. She looks back at the camera lens, lowers her voice a little, almost for a dramatic effect, and continues. "You see, I
knew
everything was going to change because hell had come to call that night, and some didn't escape it."
Eight
"I'm going to take a moment."
Jules stands. Walking over to the camera, she presses the pause button and releases a deep sigh when the red light quits flashing.
Pulling out her cell, she scrolls through her contacts to the number she needs and sends a text.
Jules: I'm making the video. It's harder than I thought.
She presses ‘Send’ and makes her way to the kitchen for a drink. Pulling her favorite tumbler from the cabinet, she thinks about how her friends always laugh at her obsession with only drinking out of double insulated tumblers with lids and straws. Everyone knows which drink belongs to her, because she never leaves home without her signature cup. Her mom loves it because she uses the same cup all day and doesn’t dirty up ten, the way Jason always does.
She smiles at the random memories and lets them ease the stress from her limbs as she pours some sweet tea and takes a refreshing sip. Whenever she begins to feel tight or overly stressed, she knows to remember the happy things. Some days are easier than others.
As she screws on the lid to her cup, the cell phone buzzes and she swipes the screen to check her message.
D.M.: I'm proud of you. It will be hard, but it will help you. I promise.
Jules: I'm trying
D.M.: I'm here for you if you need an appointment. Just call.
Jules: Thanks
She takes a quick bathroom break and returns to the front room where the camera is set up. After one last stretch, Jules presses the Pause button and makes sure the video is recording again. Satisfied it is on, she sets her drink on the end table by the chair and sits back down. Realizing her shoes can’t be seen on camera, she kicks off her little ballet flats and curls a leg up underneath her to get comfortable.
"Okay, so I think I’ll skip ahead a little for now. I can always come back. This is my story, after all." She winks at the screen with a grin.
"Oh, wait. If you were here, you'd be asking about two things right now. West, and when I first heard about you. Let me tell you about the next time I saw
him
, because that covers the part about you."
* * *
Exhausted, Jules barely takes the time to stand under the shower and allow the warm stream of water to rinse the dried blood and dirt off her body and down the drain. She doesn’t realize how cut up she is until she stands in the mirror and looks at her battered body. Her cheek is swollen, her eyes are purple, and her arms and legs resemble someone who went into battle with an angry cat and lost. As she crawls into bed and drifts off to sleep, she wishes the few memories she
did
have could have swirled down the drain along with the water and grime.
It is mid-afternoon Saturday and she is lying in bed with the sun peeking through a crack in the blinds, when she hears the low murmur of West's voice, followed by an somewhat deeper tone, rising up through the foyer into her bedroom.
Although the doorbell sounds several times that afternoon, she ignores it and buries deeper into her covers. Her body aches from the ordeal last night and her head is pounding something fierce again. Her dad pokes his head in sometime before the sun is up and kisses her on the head. The touch stirs her barely enough to mumble a sleepy, 'What are you doing?' He explains he is heading out to help do some recovery work in town, and Jules squeezes her eyes shut to keep the memories out; falling back asleep. An hour ago her mother came in to tell her she made some chicken salad and it will be available whenever she’s ready to come downstairs, but instead she pulls the covers up and squeezes her eyes shut. She knows she is fighting the reality of what she might have to face once she leaves the safety of her room, but she can’t help it.
Hearing West's voice, however, puts urgency into her movements and she slides from the bed and feels her limbs turn to jelly when she tries to stand.
"Whoa."
Jules falls back to sit on the side of the bed and her head spins as dark spots flash before her eyes. She can hear a deeper voice speaking below her and decides it must be Mr. Rutledge. Wondering why they are here, she slowly pushes herself to a standing position again.
She manages to crack open her door when she hears a broken sob from her mom.
"Oh, dear Lord."
The strangled words fill her with worry and Jules rounds the corner; her head poking down into the open foyer below as she calls out, "Mom?"
Her mother stands inside the door with her head bent low. Mr. Rutledge stands close to her, his hand touching her shoulder as she cries. To the left stands West with his hands tucked into the pockets of his blue jeans. He looks up at the sound of her voice and his expression changes immediately; the pain and sadness is evident in his eyes.
Paying no heed to the tank top and small sleeping shorts she wears, Jules steps into full view and takes a shaky step; grabbing the rail to brace herself for whatever dismal news the Rutledges seem to be bringing into her house.
"What's wrong? West, why are you here?"
He stands his ground silently and she takes the steps slowly; her eyes glued on her mother's back. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, as if her mother is ignoring her, but in reality it takes only a few seconds before she turns towards Jules. Her face is pale and her eyes are rimmed red as she brushes the wetness from beneath her lower lashes.
"Oh, honey," she starts; moving to take Jules' hand once she reaches the last few steps. "I have some bad news."
The black spots show up again and Jules grips the post to the stairs. She feels a sudden urge to vomit and swallows hard as she looks at the three somber faces in front of her. She barely feels her mother’s arm wrap around her, pulling her snugly against her, as she meets West's eyes again. Something in his look instinctively tells her what she is about to hear. They lock with hers and his expression fills with indescribable emotions. There’s deep sadness, but there’s something more; something that makes her whole body tingle with the urge to be near him.
"Honey, it's Tanya. She didn't make it, sweetie," her mother's voice whispers into her ear as she tilts her head against Jules'. The words sound fake to her; a mimicry of the teacher in all of those Charlie Brown television specials she’s watched through the years.
"Wah wah wah wah..."
The sentence registers deep down in her gut, but as her head swims and her feet begin to give away, she stays zoned in on West. As she stares Jules notices his mouth open, and his face switches from sadness to a look of concern. She registers his movement towards her as if she is watching a movie. She doesn’t feel as if she is actually present in the room as he flings himself towards her. Her mother's worried shout sounds in her head before everything goes black.
Coming back to earth, Jules shakes the cobwebs from her vision and asks groggily, "What? What happened?"
"Welcome back, cheerleader."
West's face hovers over hers and his eyes convey worry, even while he smiles his brilliant smile.
"Honey? Are you all right? You passed out, but only for a moment." Her mother rushes to explain the details as she blinks her eyes and looks about.
She is lying on the floor in the foyer, right where she stood only moments ago. Her mom is in front of her, kneeling and gripping her hand so tightly she thinks it might fall off. To her right is Mr. Rutledge, and she wants to climb into a hole from the embarrassment. Then she looks up and realizes she’s cradled against West. His arms are under hers as if he caught her mid-fall, and her back and head rest against his chest.
"You saved me again," she acknowledges and looks up into his upside-down face.
The vision brings to mind the Spiderman movie where Mary Jane kisses Spiderman upside down in the rain, and suddenly she is flushed with heat as a blush works up her body at the thought of kissing West in the same manner. She pulls her hand from her mother’s gently and tries to sit up on her own; allowing West to support her from behind. She sits forward enough to cross her legs in front of her. Sometime during the excitement of fainting and falling, her top had risen up and exposed her stomach, so she tugs it back down and places her head in her hands in a futile attempt to stop the pounding drums inside.
"It's this concussion. Man, it hurts so bad," she moans; trying to explain to them why she passed out so suddenly.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Rutledge stands, the floor creaking as he moves. "West, I think we should let them be, now."
Massaging her temples, she turns to look between father and son. West looks conflicted as he skims her waist lightly with his fingers. She feels the heat of his chest through the thin tank top she wears.
"Why did y'all come by?" she asks. The sound of her voice rattles her brain.
"Honey?" It is the soft, sad word spoken by her mom that brings the memory back.
"Oh, no...no," she moans, and bile rises in her throat. "Tanya?"
Her mom stares back at her, her own eyes drowning with tears, and Jules' body begins to shake with the realization that her best friend of over ten years is gone. Folding in on herself, her mom pulls her into her chest and whispers comforting words as West tries to slide out of the way.
Feeling the movement, her arm darts out of the cocoon she made and pins his leg in place.