Sacrifices, page 33
**
Clutching the sheets, I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart weighted in fear. Honor never comes back. She never returns from her trip. I sit up and clutch my chest. The pain is so intense, the nightmare so real, I can taste the foreboding rising up in my esophagus. Rubbing my sweaty palms on my blanket, I replay the nightmare in my mind.
Honor. Saving. Healing. Dying.
That’s all I can recall. Why can’t I remember my dream? It doesn’t make sense. In my dream, I watch her die. I watch her fall. Her hands, I remember her hands. Dammit, why can’t I remember everything?
Dragging myself out of bed, afraid to make a movement but afraid to stay still, I pad clumsily to the bathroom, clutching my stomach. My knees betraying me, they buckle and I fall against the sink. Think, Sutherland. Think. What is my dream telling me? It has to have some meaning. I feel it in my chest. Know it in my mind.
It’s when I’m splashing water on my face that I remember the long-distance phone call I never picked up. Running to the chair I threw my jeans on last night, I pull my phone out of the pocket and retrieve the voicemail.
It’s Honor’s dad. He’s calling from the Princess Margaret Hospital in Nassau. Oh my god, his voice is shaking. He’s muttering something, but all I hear is that something has happened to Honor. His voice goes on and on, but his words don’t register.
When the message ends, I take a huge breath and will myself to calm down so that I can hear his voicemail over my pounding heartbeat. I press replay and hold my breath.
Storm. It’s Jack Stevens. There’s no cell service here, so I’m calling from the Princess Margaret Hospital in Nassau. There’s been a terrible accident and Honor is ...oh my god, Storm.
Mr. Stevens pauses to swallow some tears. He’s choking up.
I’m sorry. I’ll try to stay calm so I can get this out. The plane went down. Right on the island. A lot of people were hurt. Honor and her mom included. But...Honor wasn’t hurt too badly. She would have...
Jack’s voice cracks and he hesitates again.
She would have gotten away with just some bruises, but...she couldn’t help herself. Oh, Storm.
Jack cries again, making me wait even longer for his explanation.
She had to go saving as many people as she could. Wound after wound, she wouldn’t stop. Until finally...she collapsed...fell unconscious. It...It was horrible. She was turning all sorts of colors...wounds started appearing on her skin where before there weren’t any. It...oh my god, it was awful.
Jack catches his breath again, while I listen to his sobs over the phone.
And oh, Storm...
His crying is scaring the hell out of me.
She...she...
BeepBeepBeep. Three fast beeps end the call.
She what goddammit? Oh my god...she what?
I drop to my knees with the phone clutched to my chest. He never told me. He never said...
He never said if she was still alive.
Forcing myself to grab hold of my emotions, I get up off the floor and pull open my laptop. The first thing I do is book a one-way ticket for the first available trip to Nassau, Bahamas. This gives me hope before going on to the second thing I do –dial the long-distance number that displays in my recent calls.
After listening to the recording, I press the option to reach the receptionist. When she finally answers the phone, I ask to reach Honor Stevens’ room. When she tells me to please hold, I wait impatiently listening to some cheesy Chicago song called Wishing You Were Here—which pisses me off big time, because it’s sad...and I’m already sad.
When the woman comes back, she tells me, “I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot connect you at this time.”
“Can you tell me if she’s at least there? Is she alive?” I beg. I plead.
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m unable to offer you information. You can come in and speak to that department face to face, but we cannot give out that information over the phone.”
“I’m in fucking America. I can’t just take a bus over there. Please. I’m begging you.”
“I’m really sorry, sir, but I can’t.”
Before I plead one last time, the line goes dead.
And so does my heart.
Chapter Forty-One
The incessant replaying in my mind of yesterday’s phone call is all I remember about the flight to Nassau, Bahamas. The melting ice in my glass and the three empty miniature bottles of Jack Daniels tells me I was articulate enough to request a drink and coherent enough to show the correct form of id—considering I have two different ones. But don’t ask me what my attendant looks like or whether or not she’s male or female. All I know is, though my body is numb, my heart and mind have a permanent vise clamping down on them. The pain is unbearable.
“In five minutes, we will be landing in beautiful Nassau, Bahamas,” the pilot announces. But all I care about is getting to Princess Margaret Hospital and finding out if Honor’s alive.
God I hope she’s alive.
Since I spent no time packing, there is nothing to stop and retrieve. So when I get off the plane, I hail the closest taxi and somehow communicate to the driver where I need to go. I don’t even hear the words come out of my mouth. It’s as if someone else is operating my body. I’m floating above myself in a way, because everything that is happening to me since the moment I got the phone call is hallucinatory.
The eight stairs leading up to the front door may have been the seventy-two stone steps leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It took me that long to make it into the building. And even longer to make it to the receptionist. Yes, I was in a hurry to see Honor. No, I was not in a hurry to hear terrible news. So I let time stand still by hovering in the lobby a few minutes before asking for information about her.
“You can go up to the Intensive Care Wing on the second floor. There’s a reception area where you can sign in,” the woman behind the circular desk says.
My heart struggles to pick up its pace with the vise constricting it, but God bless it, it tries. “Are you...are you saying...she’s alive?” I ask between labored breaths.
“Yes, sir, I am, but she is in ICU, so you’ll need to cover up. The nurses will give you a gown upstairs.”
She is alive. Like one of those religious people who drop to their knees and sing “Praise be the Lord,” I feel my own body screaming in celebration. “She’s alive,” I whisper only to myself. “Praise be the Lord.”
Upstairs, the lady in blue makes me put on a yellow gown and a mask and gloves. When I walk into her room, I’m greeted by two grim faces and a body hooked up to all types of tubes.
“Storm,” Mr. and Mrs. Stevens say together.
Taking slow steps toward the bed, I feel that vise clamping down again. She’s not breathing on her own—she’s breathing through an oxygen mask. My eyes stay drawn to a sleeping Honor, but I manage to speak softly. “What’s going to happen to her?” I ask her parents.
“Well, it’s a waiting game,” Mr. Stevens tries to say as a matter of fact, but his voice cracks, and I know he’s trying his best to stay strong.
“What are we waiting for?” My voice is still quiet, my eyes, still on Honor.
Mrs. Stevens’ breath hitches and her hand covers her mouth.
“We’re waiting to see...if she’ll make it.” Though he tries not to, Honor’s dad cries.
This is where I drop to my knees. Right next to her bed. And cry. I don’t just let the tears slip from my eyes. No. I let them rain down. And I don’t stop crying until sometime later in the evening when Honor’s mother brings me a cup of coffee.
“It was nice of you to come,” she tells me.
My struggle to stand is met with two lower limbs filled with pins and needles. I turn anyway and hug the shit out of Mrs. Stevens.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just so so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Storm. Stop,” she cries.
“The break. If I hadn’t...oh my god, if I hadn’t asked to take a break, she wouldn’t be here right now.” I’m still squeezing Mrs. Stevens so hard, I finally realize I could be hurting her.
She lets me pull away and then looks me in the eyes. “Storm. We might have taken this trip anyway. You don’t know that we wouldn’t have. Lord knows we needed it.” She laughs through her tears, leaving me to wonder where she finds her strength.
“I don’t know what to do,” I cry in exasperation.
“We fly back home. They’ll be flying Honor to Morristown Hospital on Tuesday. We’ll meet her there. That’s all we can do.”
Nodding my head, I say, “Okay. Okay.”
I sit down in the chair next to the bed, manage to swallow a few sips of the hot coffee, and cry. Again. Going through my mind this time, though, is making a deal with God.
God, if You allow Honor to live, I will no longer be the asshole I’ve been. No longer will I make Honor choose between Ethan and me. If You allow Honor to live, Ethan can have her. I will not stress her out over it. I will make things easy on her and just be her friend. Her very best friend. If You allow Honor to live, I will be only good. Good to everyone. Especially Ethan. Please God. Please.
After my meltdown, I think - this affects him as much as it does me. He should know. It’s only fair that he knows.
And in a matter of minutes, I’m in the hallway calling Ethan. Giving him what has to be the worst call in his life. And it breaks my heart, because I know he loves her as much as I do.
PART THREE
ETHAN
Chapter One
I will never forget the moment my heart opened for the first time. It may have been the thought of losing her for good. Or it may have been the thought of losing her to Storm. Whatever the reason, healing Honor had become my priority.
**
Honor is finally going home. Living in that hospital room for the past month, everyone involved is happy to see her leaving, especially Honor. Not that I’m patting myself on the back, but if I hadn’t done what I did, Honor would still be there dying of wounds she could have easily avoided. But unlike when Honor had saved her mother from a heart attack, the doctors and nurses are suspicious of why she made such a miraculous recovery. They also have their eye on the fact that Honor saved a plane load of people from dying in that plane crash.
How many times have I told her to shut them out? The pain of everyone else is not worth killing her own heart. I know I told her that a hundred times.
But she was never willing to listen to me, and now her heart is so weak, she needs another. At least she’s able to come home and wait for the heart. The doctors say as long as she’s resting, she doesn’t need to wait it out in the hospital.
“Thanks again, Ethan,” Honor says from her couch about an hour after her parents bring her home from the hospital. “Are you feeling all right? I mean, how come you’re not like weak? You saved my life. Why are you not drained of all your energy like I always am?”
Storm, standing over Honor like a gargoyle on a cathedral, says “Thank you so much, Ethan,” for the thousandth time. It’s kind of getting sickening.
“I guess,” I say in answer to Honor’s question, “because I don’t go saving every suffering person I see.” I don’t want to offend her, but I have to let her know. “You can’t save everyone who needs saving, Honor. It just doesn’t work that way.”
“Maybe because you’re immortal,” Storm says, “you’re not prone to the weaknesses that Honor is. You think?” There are no resentful undertones. No anger. No signs of Storm’s usual hostility. And that irks me.
Irritated, I respond with, “Yes, of course I’m not prone to the same weaknesses that Honor is, but I also think, Honor,” I turn to her, because I don’t want it to seem like we’re talking about her as if she’s not right here in the room, “you wouldn’t go down for the count every time you tried to make someone feel better if you would just avoid it most of the time.” I wink, making sure she and her self-appointed guardian Storm know I have only her best interests at heart.
“I know, Eeth.” Honor sighs. “But I can’t help it. Their pain is just so real to me.” Storm starts sliding his hand down the back of her head. “It’s like, if I don’t do something, I feel like I’m gonna die. Like the teenage girl whose skin was burned off. She was in so much pain, and her mother was screaming because her daughter was dying? How could I not have saved her? How could I let her die...and in so much pain? Ethan, I felt those burns all over my body. She was dying from the pain, and it made me feel like I was dying too. Literally.”
“Well, literally, you will.” I love her, but she needs to know the truth.
And why the hell isn’t Storm on her case about this? Ever since the accident, he’s been so cautious with what he says around her. I’m not sure why it’s pissing me off, but it’s like he’s a different person since Honor nearly died.
“I’ll be fine.”
I look to Storm for some type of reaction, but he just continues stroking her hair.
“Dammit, Honor, you won’t be fine. You need a goddamn new heart. Storm, back me up here. You know I’m right. Her actions are killing her.”
“What do you want me to say, Ethan?” he asks from his perch on the arm of the couch. “She’s heard this all before. I’m not going to upset her anymore. Her heart can’t take the stress, so—”
“So,” I interrupt, “when she gets a new heart and she does this again, then what?”
“Ethan, please,” Honor says quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology breaks my heart. Moving my hand from her forearm to her hand, I clasp it in mine. “No, I’m sorry, Honor. I don’t mean to be stressing you out, I just don’t wanna see you like this. You’re young. You should be healthy.”
“I feel fine, Eeth. Really. Thanks to you. I mean, that was so cool. Thanks.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t save your heart!” Why I was able to heal all of the wounds and bruises on her body but not her heart makes no sense. Uncle Tom thinks it’s because her heart has just taken on so much in such a short amount of time that it may be incapable of healing completely.
But that’s not good enough.
What if they can’t find a heart in time?
What if her heart gives out before someone gives her one?
Chapter Two
Mrs. Stevens makes us leave. She says Honor needs to rest. So, after dinner, Storm and I say goodbye to the one girl we are both in love with, and then we walk out together.
“I’m sorry I didn’t back you up in there, Ethan. I should have, but I’m just so scared to lose her, and I can’t risk putting even more strain on her heart,” Storm says with clenched teeth then balls his hand into a fist and plugs the side of his car, leaving a softball size dent in the space behind his window.
“Yeah. I get it,” I say dryly. I’m in no mood to be his friend right now. Not when he won’t even be honest about Honor’s welfare, and not when he’s still fighting to win her heart. But then, I chuckle. One of those hard ironic laughs that aren’t even funny at all.
“What’s so funny?”
“We’re both trying to win her heart, right?” I shake my head. “Yet, when she gets a new one, she may not love either one of us.”
The truth hits us right in our guts. Storm’s pained expression mimics my feelings of having the breath knocked out of me.
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Storm finally says when he’s able to catch his breath.
“Yup,” I say so disappointed at the truth of it. The feelings of love come from the heart. Without her own heart, will she even love us anymore? ‘Cause right now, I know she loves us both. Figuring out which one of us she’s in love with will probably be a moot point soon.
“Well then,” Storm blurts, “I think we should start being brothers for a change.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I cock an eyebrow at him and he drops it. “But I’m not racing you for her. I made up my mind in Nassau that I would let you have her if that’s what she wanted. I love her too much to cause her all this strain. Besides, like you said, when she gets that new heart...well, we’re just going to have to be happy to be her friend.”
“And you believe that?” I ask callously, still suspicious of this other side of Storm.
“Believe what? That she’ll be our friend? Why wouldn’t she be? She’s not having a brain transplant. It’s not like she won’t remember we were in her life.”
“No asshole, I mean, you actually believe that we’re just gonna stop fighting over her? Because I’m sorry, I won’t.”
Storm drops his shoulders and sighs. “I said I was done. You do what you have to, but I’m not going to fight over her. Especially, if it means killing her before she gets the transplant. Besides, it’s up to Honor anyway, and I don’t even think she’s thinking about either one of us in that way now. Her only concern is surviving.” He opens the door to get in his car.
“Oh. So, now you’re the good guy? What’s up with you anyway? When did you become such a pussy?”
“Forget it, Ethan. You wouldn’t understand.” He goes to shut his door, but I won’t let him.
“No. This is your way to win isn’t it? You go all soft in the hopes Honor falls for that. Well, I’m not buying it.”
“Then don’t. I’m too exhausted for this, little brother.” He starts his car while still looking up at me. “This whole thing has knocked the fight out of me. The only thing I want. No, the only thing I need is for Honor to come out of this whole. With or without me at her side. You want her, take her, but you better only have good intentions toward her and you better never hurt her. Or I’ll rip your throat right out of your mouth with my bare hand.” He shuts the door and peels out of her driveway. Leaving me to feel like the lowlife I’ve become.
**
At home, in my now empty apartment since Uncle Tom took Hunter and Eli and bought a house on White Rock Boulevard, I sit on the couch and stare at the blank TV screen. The only thing I want. No. The only thing I need is for Honor to come out of this whole. With or without me. I mock Storm to myself. As if I don’t need the same thing. Just because I’m angry that Honor uses her power to save every living thing that’s hurting, doesn’t mean I don’t love her just as much as he does. Didn’t I prove just that by placing my hands down every inch of her bruised body so that she could heal? I don’t heal anyone. Haven’t since my parents made us orphans when we were young. I vowed to myself then that no one, ever, could make me do what my parents had done. They were selfish when it came to their boys. Sure, they were heroes to everyone else—saving children from bicycle accidents, curing cancer from young mothers, rescuing the mentally ill from a lonely life—but what about their sons? What about us?
