I’m a broken pile of bones on the side of the road now, unable to move my legs. The song from the car reaches the end and then loops, playing the same melody. “Dad?” I call, although it’s only a thick whisper. We’ve been in an accident and I’m nearly dead.
I blink, my eyelids stiff, and warm tears rush over my face. I lift my hand to wipe them away, and when I lower it, it’s smeared in blood. I need help. I look at the car again and then see, just beyond the smashed-out windshield, a body.
I see my brother’s body. Daniel is turned away, but I can make out his profile, the dried blood staining his blond hair, the wound in his head.
I’m in so much pain, but no amount of physical agony can equal what I feel when I see my brother. “Daniel?” I call, even though I can tell from here he’s not breathing. “Dan!” Sobs overtake me, and I try to roll to my side, feeling a pop in my shoulder when I do. I scream and bring my fist to my mouth, biting down on the flesh to keep from passing out. “Daniel!” I yell again, crying too hard to be understood. My body won’t cooperate, it’s too heavy, and I drag myself, nails snapping off on the pavement as I pull forward.
“I won’t leave you,” I say to him as if he can hear me. “I’ll never abandon you. I never will, Daniel.” I sob. “I never will.”
I’ve only made it a few feet, if that. I won’t be able to reach him down in the ditch, not with my injuries. I stare at my brother’s face, noting his skin has gone gray. In his hair, brain matter has seeped out. The crack in his skull is just like it was at lunch this afternoon. This afternoon . . .
At the Ruby. Adrenaline surges through me, and I take a renewed look around. Clear vision doesn’t return to my right eye, but I’m trying to figure out where I am. How can we be here now? We were just at the Ruby. Are Daniel and my father still there? Is there a Hotel Ruby?
Frantic thoughts, crazy breaks from reality, drag me in and out. My gaze falls on a signpost on the other side of the road: THE HOTEL RUBY—2 MI. Eventually help will arrive, but what does that mean? They won’t be able to save my brother. They can’t save him because he’s still at the Ruby.
My lips pull apart with another heavy cry. In reality I know we may never have walked in those doors. I know it. But I can’t accept it. I can’t accept a life without my family. I can’t leave Daniel. Maybe he’s dead, but maybe he’s at a party in the ballroom waiting for me. Waiting for Dad.
What would he think if I didn’t show up? Would he think I’d abandoned him? Is that what he wanted when he told me I had to leave? Had he figured this all out, kept it from me so I wouldn’t stay?
“Too bad,” I call to his body. “I won’t walk away from you.” Madness seems to overtake me, and I laugh. “I won’t crawl away,” I correct, rolling onto my back to stare up at the streetlight. I can’t wait for a passerby to help, or even an ambulance. Because when they show up, they’ll take Daniel from me. They’ll cover him in a white sheet and I’ll never see his face again. His pale blue eyes, just like our mother’s. My brother will be dead.
And I can’t let that happen.
I stop fighting to breathe, letting out a staggered sigh as my eyelids start to flutter. Heaviness weighs on my chest, and I imagine I’m filling up with blood. I have to get Daniel the hell out of there.
“I’ll bring you back,” I mumble, fluid running from the corner of my mouth. I look over one last time at his body, at the car where the music plays. Behind the wheel I can finally make out my father’s silhouette—the angle of his broken neck. I’m the only living soul here. “I’m coming, Daddy,” I whisper, slipping away. I close my eyes.
The music stops.
My mother’s funeral was the worst day of my life. I only remember it in bits and pieces, the entire affair a haze of grief. I didn’t have anything black to wear; I couldn’t even bother with matching socks. In the end, Ryan came over with something of his mother’s and helped me into it, dressing me like a limp doll as I cried until my eyes burned. I hadn’t seen my father all morning. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since the hospital when they told us my mother didn’t survive the stroke. They had tried their best, they told us. As if that would somehow temper our grief.
And then I was walking down the aisle of the church, gripping Daniel’s arm so tightly he was left with bruises. His blue eyes were bloodshot, the tip of his nose red from crying. He kept trying to hold it in, though, pressing his lips together so hard it looked like it hurt. My mother’s friends burst into tears at the sight of him. Daniel being strong—that was more heartbreaking to them than if he’d just crumbled.
I didn’t speak at the funeral, and I only vaguely remember seeing my grandmother and the older lady who had held my mother’s hand in the coffee shop. When Daniel and I got back to the house, I went upstairs. Ryan came by to check on me, and even he gave up after a while, leaving me with just a kiss on the side of my head.