“What the hell did you just say to me?”
“You fucking heard me! Don’t disrespect her and talk down to her. Your problem is with me, no one else. And you know what? My whole life I’ve wondered why you seem to hate me so much, put me down, make me feel worthless. Well, now I know. Mom told me about my real mom. What kind of a man does that make you, huh? I’m the only thing you’ve got left of a woman you supposedly loved, and what do you do? You beat me. Your own flesh and blood; part of you and her. Most people would cherish the only reminder of a person they once loved, but oh no, not you, Dad. No, you preferred to kick and punch and beat the hell out of me for reminding you of her. I can’t help how I look, or mannerisms that I may share with her. I’ve never intentionally tried to bait you or upset you. I’ve spent my whole fucking life trying to live up to what you expected, and it was never going to be good enough, was it? Because what it all boils down to is that you hate me. You hate me for living and reminding you of what you’ve lost. I’m never going to be able to change that, am I?”
“Get out of the car, now!”
I look to Blair who’s shaking her head.
“Guys, you need to calm down,” she pleads as we both unbuckle and make a move to exit the car. That’s when I see the look of pure horror flash across her face. I hear her scream just as I turn to see the truck heading straight for us and showing no sign of stopping. I throw myself across her to unbuckle her belt, and then darkness.
It’s as much as I recall before waking up in the hospital. The realization hits that it’s my fault that we stopped in the middle of the road arguing, and I lunge off the bed and into my bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach empties and the guilt creeps in, consuming my whole body and pushing out everything else.
“Ethan, what’s wrong? Baby, are you okay?”
Blair looks as panicked as I feel. She rushes to the sink and dampens a washcloth, placing it on the back of my neck.
“You completely zoned out on me and then started shaking. I thought you were having some sort of seizure.”
I want to answer her, but I don’t trust my voice not to break. I let go of my grip on the toilet and raise a hand, trying to indicate that I need a second.
The cold cloth she has pressed on me is dripping beads of icy water down my back and making me shiver. I pull it from her grasp without saying a word and reposition it on my forehead as I twist around and lean my back against the wall. She’s knelt in front of me now, and the worry in her eyes does nothing but add to the mountain of blame I feel take up residence on my shoulders.
“You want me to get you some water?”
What I want is for this nightmare to end, but I can’t exactly ask for that.
“I’m not thirsty,” I clip, and I’m pretty sure I couldn’t keep anything down at the moment anyway. My stomach is still in knots.
“You wanna tell me what this is all about? ‘Cause I’m going to be honest with you here, Ethan, you’re starting to freak me out. Should I go get your mom?”
“No!” I blurt out. “I’ll be okay in a minute. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m fine.”
“’I’m fine’ is the universal code for anything but fine. I’m a girl, I should know. Please…just talk to me.”
I can’t look her in the eye. My dad…the trucker…her operation…it’s all my fault.
“I remembered the crash,” I mumble, focusing my attention on the tiny cracks in the glaze of the ceramic tiles on the bathroom floor. There are millions of seemingly insignificant hairline fractures, barely visible until you look hard enough. The tiles themselves look almost flawless from a distance, but if you tried to remove one, it would crumble. Those fractures have all played a part in weakening the hard exterior. One firm knock and it would be irreparable, leaving the person who delivered the blow stunned wondering how one seamlessly uneventful knock could destroy the whole thing. I feel like that tile.
“What exactly did you remember?” she asks, but the sound of her voice tells me that she already knows.
I take a deep breath and then tell her what I remembered from the police station leading up to arguing with my dad. “I should have stayed quiet until we got back home. Why did I choose that moment to finally say something? It’s because of me that we stopped the car; it’s all because of me.”
Her arms fold around me, and she holds me like she knows I’m about to disintegrate.