They wanted me to be Maddy. Alex, Dad, Mom, the friends who had waited in the hall for hours … days until I woke up, only leaving when Alex promised to call them if my condition changed. Every single one of them wanted Maddy to live. That was who they thought I was, that was who they told themselves I was. Maybe the real problem here wasn’t that they didn’t recognize me, maybe it was that I was me and not my sister. How was I supposed to tell them the truth, the horrible truth—that the girl they had rallied around, had begged God to let live, was gone?
I couldn’t do it to them. I couldn’t do it to her. If they wanted Maddy to live, then I’d make sure she did. Maddy deserved a chance at a real life, at happiness. I’d taken that from her with one angry jerk of the wheel. In my own selfishness, I’d done this to her, cut her life short. She’d get the life she deserved. She’d grow up, go to college, and have a family. I’d make sure she had everything she ever wanted or die trying. I’d make this up to her, to my parents, to Alex. I’d bury myself and give Maddy my life in return.
11
It was freezing out. A thin layer of frost glistened on the granite headstones as people carefully picked their way across the slick grass. It was supposed to warm up and be bright and sunny by midafternoon. Didn’t matter to me either way.
The inside of the car smelled like a combination of rug shampoo and pine trees, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a cheap cardboard air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. If I tried, I could probably see it from here. But that’d mean I’d actually have to move, and I didn’t want to.
The windows had fogged over, and I swiped my hand across the glass. Mom and Dad were already there, standing by the giant hole in the ground and talking with the minister. People filled in around them, their heads bowed and their shoulders tense.
I was glad to be out of the hospital, doing something besides staring at the white walls while everybody talked in hushed tones about how much progress I’d made. I was no longer crying and hadn’t taken a pain pill in days, but that had little to do with “progress” and everything to do with me not caring anymore. Part of me had died with Maddy, a piece so significant, so integral to who I was that I felt completely lost without her.
The shrink they’d sent to talk to me in the hospital thought it’d be a good idea if I went to the burial. Something about closure and moving on. My doctor agreed and discharged me a day early so I could attend. I’d said I’d go, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move from the car, couldn’t walk ten yards to the graveside to see my sister … to see myself buried.
The car door opened, and I slid over to avoid the rush of cold air.
“You coming?” Alex asked.
I’d been in the hospital for twelve days and he was there the entire time, hovering, always asking me if I wanted something to drink or if my shoulder hurt. At first I thought it was sweet. I enjoyed his company over my dark thoughts. But now I felt suffocated. I needed some privacy to say goodbye to my sister, to apologize for the last words I’d said to her. But I was never alone. Alex was always there.
He offered me his hand and I took it, stared at it as I memorized every minute detail, every insignificant flaw as his fingers entwined with mine. “Where’s your coat?” he asked as he helped me out of the car.
“At home,” I said.
My parents were paranoid about bringing me out into the cold and had thrust two coats on me when they picked me up from the hospital this morning. Truth was, I didn’t want either one. Something about the slap of the cold air against my skin felt good, reassuring. Each goose bump that rose on my skin was welcome, a sharp reminder that despite the misery I was encased in, I was, in fact, still alive.
Besides, the two wool coats weren’t mine; they were Maddy’s. I’d worn her black dress, but having her coat surrounding me, her warmth seeping into me, seemed wrong.
“Here,” Alex said as he shrugged out of his. I turned to let him wrap it around me, flinching when his hand brushed against my neck. Up until now, the only part of my body he’d touched was my hands.
“Your shoulder hurt?” he asked. They’d reset my dislocated shoulder while I was unconscious. My arm was still in a sling, but that was mostly due to the weight of the cast on my left wrist.