Rapid Falls(15)

About ten miles out of town, I felt the car slow slightly. My dad gripped the steering wheel tightly, but he looked distracted. I knew why. The two white crosses had stood there for nearly a decade, but today they seemed to stand out amid the knapweed and grass. I wondered if anyone would put one up for Jesse. I wondered if people would expect me to be the one to do it.

The white crosses were for Dustin and his mom. Everyone knew him; our elementary school had only two hundred people in it. They were on their way home from a gymnastics tournament. He’d competed in Nicola because no one in Rapid Falls could match his skill. He used to throw his body into the air as if he could control gravity. Even ten years later, it was hard to believe his blood had stained the road underneath our tires.

The day it happened, a police officer came to our school to deliver the news. I was leaving the bathroom when I saw him talking to the principal, who was wiping tears from his eyes. I returned to my classroom and completed my math quiz, feeling the knot in my stomach twist into a tight cramp. At recess I met Anna on the wooden playground as usual. Anna’s friend Sandy approached us with an expression that was almost gleeful.

She announced Dustin’s death to us with something close to a smile on her face. I didn’t feel sad when she said it—only confused. Even to an eight-year-old, the dissonance between the news and her underlying joy at being the one to deliver it was unsettling. It was my first experience with the malicious delight some bystanders take in other people’s horror. I hadn’t thought much about Dustin being absent that day. I didn’t realize that I’d never see him again.

One of the kids at school, whose dad was a volunteer firefighter, later said that the car had been flattened like a metal pancake. I had nightmares for months as my brain tried to make sense of what happened to bodies inside a car like that.

I turned to my dad as we passed the small town that marked the halfway point to Nicola. His back was straight and his jaw was clenched. Since our conversation in the hospital, he had barely spoken.

“Did Mom go with Anna right away?”

Accompanying her would have been my mom’s obvious choice. My mother was a rescuer of broken birds and maimed rabbits. Once, she brought home a kitten she had found, no larger than an apple. She placed it in a shoebox on top of a heated blanket in our kitchen. She and Anna had taken turns spoon-feeding it warm milk. I couldn’t do it. I knew the kitten was too small to live. I didn’t see the point of prolonging its misery. I still remember the tears in Anna’s eyes as she whispered that she’d heard it purr—just once—before it died in its makeshift bed next to a bag of onions. I knew my mom’s soft, anxious heart wouldn’t allow her to leave Anna alone. That was why she was with my sister and not me. It didn’t mean anything more than that, I told myself.

“Yes. She went in the helicopter. They weren’t sure at first . . . how bad Anna was.”

“Did Mom come see me before she left?” I persisted.

“There wasn’t time.” His face tightened again.

“Is she . . .” I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I wanted to ask if Anna was dying, but the words seemed too cruel to speak. Her body kept slipping out of my arms and plunging back into the freezing water as I dragged her to the shore. The world dimmed to a hollow roar as my ears seemed to fill with ice water again. I think Anna screamed as our car sailed in the air after it broke through the bridge railing. Maybe I did too. It took a moment for the water to engulf us. Just enough time to apologize, but no one had. Jesse’s seat belt wasn’t on. As our car sank, his body floated up to the windshield. Even in the blurry depths, I could see his eyes were open but empty. It was why I hadn’t gone back for his body after I pulled Anna to the surface. I knew it was too late.

“I talked to your mom right before I saw you. Anna’s pretty hurt, Cara. Broken ribs, concussion. But she’s awake. She’s going to pull through.” The thought of Anna brought a flicker of a smile to his face, a crack in the hard sadness that encased him. I nodded, keeping my own face blank. Anna would always be their favorite. No matter what the police said she did.

I didn’t want to ask my dad what would happen next. I knew that last night was going to undermine everyone’s sense of security. Anna, Jesse, and I had not lived up to the promises we had made about drinking and driving. The town was going to want someone to pay for that. Jesse’s life would not be enough. They would want more.

For the next thirty minutes, my dad and I sat in silence as we passed by farm pastures and wooded glens. As we got closer to Nicola, the single-lane highway widened and the lanes doubled. Cars, trucks, and buses appeared on the road beside us, streetlights dotted the shoulder, and houses proliferated like mushrooms. Traffic lights and malls entered the view. Usually I felt excited when the city appeared. Today I felt nothing but dread. My hands were numb, as if they had been plunged in frigid water again.

I had never been inside the Royal Nicola Hospital. I was only a baby when Anna was born, and I had been left with my father’s parents back in Rapid Falls. The hospital was built on a large hill that buttressed the southern edge of downtown, like a queen on a throne overlooking her lesser subjects. My dad cursed under his breath as he made a wrong turn that resulted in us having to loop back around the entire hospital. Speed bump after speed bump jostled my bruises as he searched for the entrance to short-term parking.

“You okay?” He looked over, concerned, after the car jolted unpleasantly again. I must have whimpered out loud. Usually I would make a joke about country bumpkins and my dad would laugh. He hated driving in the city.