Page 3 of If It Can't Be Us

We make our way back upstairs and locate the restroom before returning to the car. I glance at my watch… almost 11:15.

Thirty more minutes until I can sleep.

Ben and I discuss the evening as we enter Parley’s Canyon. He recounts a story told by his friend Greg, which provokes laughter from me. I tell him about my encounter with creepy Sean.

“Why does he always have to touch me?” I say, annoyed just thinking about it.

Ben reaches toward me. “Hmm, let me think,” he says, his hand sliding up my thigh. “I wonder why he would want to touch you.” His graze sends a shiver down my spine.

Smiling, I squirm in my seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. A mix of excitement and frustration courses through me, but I keep my eyes on the road.

“Stop that,” I say teasingly.

“Stop what?” He continues, gliding his hand farther up my leg until he slips a finger under my panty line, causing me to inhale sharply. A tingling sensation ignites between my thighs, making my pulse quicken. My breath hitches, and a wave of desire tugs at my concentration.

“Not now, babe,” I plead, conscious of the dark canyon road ahead. “I promise we can have fun when we get home.” Reluctantly, he withdraws his hand, and I exhale in relief, trying to steady my racing heart.

“Have you given more thought to baby names?” I ask, shifting the conversation to regain focus. We should’ve just taken an Uber or booked a hotel room downtown. Driving through this canyon at night terrifies me, even though I’m sober. It’s dangerous. Even on clear nights when the road conditions are good and the weather is nice—no snow, rain, or ice—like tonight, the darkness and the winding roads still make my heart race.

“I have,” he replies. “I’m leaning toward Evie.”

“Do you not like Eva?”

“I do, but Evie just feels right.”

“But I prefer Eva!”

“We might have to settle this with rock, paper, scissors.”

“No way are we deciding like that!”

“Should we let our moms decide?”

“Ew. Absolutely not!”

Ben leans forward and turns on my 2012 playlist (senior year), cranking up the volume. A Gotye song starts playing. Ben grabs his air guitar, and I take the microphone. “You can get addicted...” We sing out together as Ben strums his air guitar. I glance his way and can’t help but giggle. He returns my gaze with my favorite grin of his—the one that captured my heart.

Ten minutes out from Park City, we’re in the middle of a full-blown jam session, belting out the song at the top of our lungs. While laughing and shout-singing, I notice a car approaching us quickly, swerving all over the road.

“Ben!” I scramble to switch lanes, desperate to put distance between us and the out-of-control car. My plea for help is lost over Ben’s oblivious singing. “Now you’re just somebody that I…” His singing is abruptly cut off as our car is violently jolted. I scream, the sound merging with the screech of metal on metal. Darkness envelops me as the impact throws me against my seatbelt.

I blink. Each movement sending waves of pain through my body. A piercing ringing in my ears deafens my senses. I hear sirens in the distance, and spiraling lights create a haze around me. I try to call out Ben’s name, but my voice fails me. The silence in the car is suffocating. Crushed against the airbag, every inch of my body aches. With great effort, I manage to twist my neck to where Ben sat, and panic consumes me.

“Ben,” my voice emerges as a hoarse whisper, cracking with desperation. “Ben.” Tears blur my vision as I repeat his name, but there’s no response. Blood and glass coincide, and as I gaze at my injured stomach, sobs overtake me, uncontrollable and insufferable. Somehow, amidst the confusion, I know that I am the only living soul in this car.

I start hyperventilating. “I can’t breathe.”

My raspy voice repeats, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

I hear voices.

“Ma’am, I need you to stay calm.”

I can’t breathe.

My eyes are closed… I think.

“Rolled,”I hear them say.“Drunk Driver. Didn’t make it. Pregnant. The baby didn’t make it…your husband didn’t make it.”

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