Page 105 of This I Know
I open my eyes.
He’s sitting next to me, one arm over me in protection. There are tears forming in his eyes, but when I look at him, he gives me that smile that I know so well, that smile that warms something deep inside of me.
He removes his arm to dig into the front pocket of his jeans. He pulls out his phone.
“I’m calling the police,” he says.
I gulp. “That’s a good idea.”
I smooth the fabric of my clothes as Ethan talks on the phone. He’s reporting the crime and from where I am, I can hear the dispatcher as the two of them talk back and forth. She says the police should be here within five minutes.
“They said they should be here in five minutes,” Ethan says, hanging up. He places the phone on the coffee table and leans in to me. He puts a hand on my forehead. “I’m going to get you some water.”
“Ethan,” I say, stopping him in his tracks. I roll onto my side.
He turns, and at the sound of his own name, something in his face lights up.
“I missed you,” I say. My voice is still shaky, but I hope he can tell how much I mean what I’m trying to say. “You haven’t even really been gone, but I’ve missed you.”
He grins, that same loving grin through the tears. “I missed you, too, Avery. I though I lost you once, and I thought I lost you again. For good.” He walks back over to me and kneels by the couch. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. When I walked through that door, in my mind I saw a ship going down. You were that ship, Avery. Please don’t let me lose you again.”
I don’t know how to reply to that. Things have been different ever since I learned the truth. Even now, I have trouble looking at him without seeing his father.
But as I gaze into his kind eyes, I start to see something more.Someonemore. Someone who saved me from the very thing he was once connected to.
I reach up and touch his face. I love those eyes, the ones that have always been there for me even when I pushed them away.
I do my best to smile at him, hoping he can understand that’s all I can muster as a response right now.
He does. He goes to get me that water.
I watch him walk away, and I’m thankful that he apparently refused to allow me to push him out of my life.
I finally ask the obvious question. “How did you know to come?”
“You called me.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “No I didn’t.”
“I don’t think you meant to, but you did.”
“I’m confused.”
He sits with the water and hands it to me. “Check your back pocket.”
I touch my pocket and feel the familiar bulge of my phone. I can’t believe it. My phone was in my back pocket that whole time.
There are certain things about surviving a trauma that never fail to surprise me. Such as, for instance, the simple things you assume you’d notice– like a phone being in a back pocket – and the thoughts that replace all of that when you’re actually in the midst of it, struggling to survive.
“I got two miracles, after all,” I say, not bothering to explain the whole two miracles thing further. “Even if the miracle involved butt dialing.”
He laughs as much as he can, considering the situation. “I guess it was a miracle. We’re both lucky.”
“I’m luckier than you.”
“You are. But I’m lucky I had my phone on me, and had the good sense to come over to make sure you were okay…” He kneads his forehead with his fingertips.
I take his hand and pull it down. “It’s okay.” It’s my turn to comfort him. “I’m fine, thanks to you. And all those things you just said? Those are still parts ofmyluck, you goof. Get your own luck.”
