Page 58 of The Way We Are

My hand trembles when I press two of my fingers to Savannah’s neck.

“I can’t feel anything. There’s nothing there.” Moisture burns my eyes as fear consumes me. “She’s not breathing. She doesn’t have a pulse.”

“Okay. First, I need you to turn her onto her side and clear her airways. If she has water in her lungs, we need to get that out.”

My stomach lurches in my throat. A puddle of water sloshes at my feet when I follow the stranger’s instructions. The water didn’t come from my saturated pants and shirt—it came from Savannah’s mouth.

“Now you need to start chest compressions. Find the end of her breastbone by scanning your fingers down until you find where her ribs come together.” He keeps his tone calm, which in turn keeps me calm.

“Now place two fingers on top of her breastbone,” he instructs when I find the area he is referring to. “Place the heel of your hand there, then interlock your hands together by your fingers.”

He nods, happy when I follow his directions to the T. “Compress her chest in a steady rhythm. I’ll count you in: One... two... three...” He continues counting to ten.

“You need to compress harder,” he instructs when we reach thirteen.

“I can’t,” I reply with a shake of my head, torment resonating in my tone. “I can’t hurt her.”

The man’s dark eyes leave the foreshore we are approaching at a rapid speed to lock with mine. “If you don’t compress her heart with enough strength, she will die.” The sincerity in his tone doesn’t lessen the severity of it. “You are not hurting her; you're saving her life.”

He waits for me to nod before saying, “Now go again. Fourteen... fifteen... sixteen...”

Setting my panic aside, I increase the strength of my pumps.

“Twenty-seven...Twenty-eight... Twenty-nine... Now breathe into her mouth two times. You’re doing great. Keep going,” the stranger continues to coach.

I seal my lips over Savannah’s mouth, pinch her nose, then blow air into her lungs as instructed.

“Come on, Savannah. Please,” I beg as I scan her face for signs of life.

There aren’t any. Her eyes are snapped shut, and her lips are blue and lifeless.

“Please, Savannah. Don’t do this to me,” I request before once again sealing my lips over hers and breathing into her freezing cold mouth. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry and acting stupid. You know what boys are like. We talk before thinking. If you come back, I promise I’ll never say another bad word about you again. I love you too, Savannah. Please don’t leave me. Not like this.”

I continue chest compressions until the boat mounts the shoreline and Brax and three men lift Savannah onto the sandy shore. I continue chest compressions while Axel stands to the side of us, running his shaky fingers over his scalp. I continue chest compressions until a paramedic tugs on my shoulder to take over.

“You’ve done good. We’ll take it from here,” a female paramedic advises as she falls to her knees next to Savannah’s lifeless form.

“We have a female patient late teens to early twenties. She was submerged for approximately forty seconds. Upon discovery of no pulse, we cleared her airways before compressions were started,” the boat owner advises the paramedics, his medical knowledge surprising me. “We used a ratio of thirty compression per two breaths until we arrived on shore, then we lowered it to fifteen compressions per two breaths.”

He aids the paramedics in resuscitating Savannah while I watch them like a hawk, wishing I could be more helpful, but knowing I’m better leaving it to the professionals. I don’t know if my breathlessness is from my swim to reach Axel’s car before it sank to the bottom of the ocean, or because I truly lose the ability to breathe without Savannah in my life. Every compression I pumped on her chest tightened the chokehold around my neck, so I would say it's the latter.

I turn my eyes away from Savannah when the defibrillator causes her body to convulse against the electric current roaring through it. Although watching her heart be shocked back to life will forever haunt me, the faint rise and fall of her chest that follows it's worth the sacrifice.

“That’s it, come on, baby girl,” the female paramedic whispers, pleased that the machine displays a faint pulse. “Come back to us.”

With my heart sitting in my throat, I crawl a little closer to them, praying they too are seeing the weak flutter thumping in Savannah’s neck. I stare at the tiny vein working overtime, counting each of its pumps in awe.Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

“Adrenaline?” the male paramedic questions as he continues squeezing the plastic bag sealed over Savannah’s mouth.

“Not yet, she’s got this. She’s coming back. Let’s give her a chance,” the female medic answers. “You’re coming back to us, aren’t you, baby girl? Come back to your boy. He’s waiting for you.”

The more encouraging thoughts she whispers to Savannah, the higher her pulse climbs... as does mine. My heart is racing so out of control I’m panicked I’m moments away from coronary failure. She’s fighting with the determination I’ve always admired. She's coming back. I can feel it deep in my bones. I saved her, and now she's saving herself.

“That’s it, baby girl, you’ve got this.” The paramedic raises her wide blue eyes to me, then smiles. “She’s okay. You did good. She’s coming back to you,” she advises, mistaking me as her boyfriend instead of the useless imbecile lurking in the shadows.

I nod, trusting every word she speaks. Savannah is coming back to me.

And she's also my girl.

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