Page 26 of Beyond the Bright Lights

I collapse onto the couch and pull my computer back into my lap, ignoring Mylan’s infuriating grin as he sits next to me.

Exhaling like a deflating balloon, I pull up a photo gallery.

“Disney World. Our senior class trip in high school. I’d never been on a plane before this. I was so nervous. Tyler was too because even though he’d been on a plane before, he was scared of flying. Still, he comforted me. He held my hand and didn’t let go until we were safely back on the ground. Because that was Tyler Taylor. He was selfless and compassionate. He was like that until the day he died.”

I click through the pictures of us wearing mouse ears, eating all the amazingly bad-for-us foods, riding rides, and posing with the characters. I pause on the photo of Tyler embracing me in a kiss in front of Cinderella’s Castle during the nightly fireworks show at Magic Kingdom, my leg flung up behind me.

I swallow hard, forcing the grief back down, refusing to let the tears consume me this time.

“You okay?” Mylan asks, his voice low.

I nod and scroll to a video.

My heart clenches.

“This is the night we found out something was wrong.”

I click play.

“Arkansas State University, homecoming night, senior year. Tyler was the star quarterback. He was a great player, one of the best. He wanted to be a social worker but honestly, he could have gone on to play for the NFL if he hadn’t . . . Anyway, coming to the end of the third quarter, we were up seven points. Tyler had the ball and found an opening to score a touchdown. He was running—” My throat tightens as the video of the night plays on. I struggle to continue, my voice merely a whisper now. “He was so close. He collapsed two yards short of the touchdown line.”

Mylan suddenly stands and goes into my kitchen. He opens every cabinet until finding my cups. He takes one out and fills it with ice, which is probably covered in freezer burn since I never use my ice trays. After filling the glass with water, he brings it back to me and I take a sip, not caring that it tastes like disgusting freezer burned ice water.

I'll drink this entire damn cup.

The video is at the part where Tyler is on the ground, unresponsive. Mylan and I watch in silence.

The crowd is hushed, the air dead. So quiet, cars could be heard from the nearby highway. The ambulance rushes out onto the field and instead of kneeling to pray with the rest of the cheerleaders and football players, I run to Tyler’s side, meeting his sister there at the same time.

I fall to my knees, tears drenching my face, my neck, my cheerleading uniform. My screams pierce the silence.

“Please, Tyler, get up! Get up! Please, you have to get up.”

Tyler's coach and a couple referees pull Rebecca and me away so the paramedics can do whatever it is they have to do. After a few minutes, Tyler is breathing again, but he’s still not awake and has to be taken to the hospital. Rebecca jumps in the back, but they don’t let me in. The video cuts off as the ambulance drives away.

I take another drink of the horrible tasting water, draining half of it down.

“Ginger drove me to the hospital. We were one of the first to arrive, but the waiting room quickly packed full of people. I remember hugging Tyler’s parents and his sister. I curled up in the chair in Ginger’s embrace, waiting for the doctor to give us an update. After what had to be hours, a man with salt and pepper hair wearing a stark white coat came in.”

I stop talking because it's too painful to recollect. My words stop, but my memories play on.

"Tyler Taylor’s family?" the doctor announces upon entering.

Tyler’s parents and sister stand up. I want to stand too, but I’m not lawfully part of the family yet. Tyler had only proposed to me a few weeks before.

"Could you please follow me?"

Rebecca trails behind her parents, but before exiting, she turns around. "Lana, come on."

I dart up to the door and grab her offered hand. The four of us follow the man down a quiet hallway. The sour smell of disinfectant makes my stomach cramp. The only sounds heard are the thuds of our footsteps. It takes us at least a minute to walk from the waiting room to the doctor’s office, though it felt more like hours.

"I’m a little concerned with Tyler’s white blood cell count," Doctor Brennan says once we’re settled in. "It’s high, too high. I don’t want to give a premature diagnosis, but I’d like to run some tests for cancer."

We gape at the silver-haired man.

"Excuse me?" Rebecca asks, not wanting to believe what he had just said.

Tyler’s mother clutches her chest, her face giving way to fear. Tyler’s father reaches over to her and grasps her arm.

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