Chapter Three Soulmates
Chapter Three
Soulmates
I’ve learned that pain comes in many forms. It has the power to immobilize, both physically and emotionally. It can wield this power temporarily and cause a brief paralysis, or it can apply a slow agony over minutes, hours, or weeks. Perhaps even a lifetime.
When consciousness returns, I’m in the hospital. I don’t know what day it is, or what time. Intellectually, I’m cognizant of the fact that I’ve been in a terrible accident, but my thoughts are like pea soup, thick and goopy.
Later, I’m told that a team of surgeons used pins to stabilize a badly displaced pelvic fracture, and they removed my spleen.
My shoulder was dislocated, and the flesh on my forearm had been torn off by Scooter’s claws when he was clinging to me.
A plastic surgeon was required to perform skin grafts.
In addition, my rapid descent down the side of the mountain had scraped the top layer of flesh off my upper back, which, upon waking, is where most of my pain is centered.
On top of all that, I have a concussion and three fractured ribs.
I come around slowly, gradually. Before I open my eyes, I hear monitors beeping and the soft voices of my parents keeping vigil, one on each side of my bed.
They speak in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb me.
I feel my mother’s hand around mine. It’s warm and loving.
That’s the moment I fight like hell to open my eyes because I need to know about Jacob. Is he okay? And what about Scooter?
“Sienna?” My mother bends over me.
She knows I’m awake. I must have squeezed her hand, because I haven’t moved otherwise, nor have I opened my eyes. I’m staring at darkness, thinking about Jacob.
The heart monitor beeps faster. I need to know where he is, and I’m so afraid.
“We’re here, sweetheart,” Mom says, squeezing my hand tighter. “You’re going to be okay.” A pause. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
At last, I open my eyes, and I see Mom’s face, drawn with worry. She starts to cry with relief, and she bends to kiss my forehead while my father gets up and takes hold of my other hand.
“Thank God.” He bows his head and weeps over me. I’ve never seen him cry, and it frightens me. It makes me understand how close to death I must have been.
I wet my parched lips and struggle to summon the capacity to speak so that someone will finally answer me. “Is Jacob okay?”
My parents, still leaning over me, say nothing. I glance from one to the other, but they won’t look at me.
My mother shakes her head at my father. She doesn’t want him to answer my question, which fills me with dread. Did the worst happen? I don’t want it to be true, but I need someone to tell me.
“Take a moment to get your bearings,” my father says. “You’ve been through a lot. Can we get you anything? Are you in pain?”
His reply confirms what I need to know, and tears pool in my eyes. “Just say it. Please . . . is Jacob here? Did he make it?”
My mother bends forward until her forehead is touching mine.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” my father says. “He didn’t.”
I hear the words, but they don’t register. Nothing does. My heart is deadened, my body anesthetized.
Suddenly, I’m back on top of the mountain, handing Jacob the sandwich I’d made for him. I’m looking into his loving eyes, seeing our future together—an entire lifetime of undying love. Happiness. A home. Children. Grandchildren. Buried side by side.
Sickness rises in my abdomen. I need to vomit.
My upper body convulses as I try to sit up.
Mom grabs a stainless steel pan from the side table and shoves it under my chin just in time for me to expel the contents of my stomach, which is mostly nothing.
But the convulsions are violent, and I feel like I’m choking.
When it’s over, I lie back on the pillow and try to recover. What my father has just said to me still hasn’t registered. It can’t be right. Jacob can’t be gone.
“What happened?” I ask. “Where did he die? In the helicopter? Or in the hospital? When? Just now?”
I need to know every detail before I can believe it. Until then, it’s not true.
Both my parents sit down, hold my hands, and kiss them.
“He died instantly from the fall,” Mom says. “He was gone when the rescue helicopters arrived. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
I can’t think or move. I’m confused because that’s not right. “No,” I say. “He was alive on the beach. He held my hand and talked to me until I was rescued. He can’t be gone.”
Suddenly I’m falling again. Down the mountain. The horrendous, unstoppable slide. Burning panic. The certainty that I’m going to die. My flesh tearing away, my heart on fire. Jacob!
Mom presses the call button, and a nurse runs into the room.
“She woke up,” Dad says.
“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Mom adds.
I hear sobs and screams and realize they’re coming from me. I’m shouting, “No!”
How could this have happened? We only wanted to enjoy a day outdoors instead of the library. Jacob has a quiz on Monday. This isn’t happening!
A second nurse runs into the room. She picks up the tubing attached to my arm and inserts a needle into the injection port. Over the next few seconds, I begin to feel dizzy and displaced. I see Jacob’s face and feel his hand on my cheek. He tells me that he loves me.
All I want is our beautiful life together, today and forever.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing and crying until the sedative takes effect and my breathing slows.
My body shudders with relief, but I hate myself for giving in to this physical solace because it’s artificial.
It’s not Jacob. He’s gone. His life is over. Mine is too.
Oblivion comes quickly and blessedly, but I know that no medication can fix this. Emotionally, I am adrift in a cold sea where there’s no rescue or remedy.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here. I’m groggy from drugs, and I don’t want to face reality. I just want to stare at the wall and pretend that this is a nightmare, one from which I will eventually wake.
Time passes. I don’t care. Nothing matters.
Then the medications start to wear off, and I feel the ache and sting of a broad swath of bloody gashes down my back. God, please help me . . .
My head pounds, and my torso feels like a tractor trailer jackknifed into it.
“Is Scooter dead too?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Mom, unaware that I’d been awake for the past minute or so, sits forward in her chair. “He’s at a vet hospital,” she tells me. “But he’s not doing well.”
I turn my head on the pillow and look at her, detached. “What does that mean?”
She rubs my shoulder. “He was badly injured, sweetheart. They might have to put him down.”
I become instantly alert. I try to sit up, but it hurts everywhere. “No!”
Mom tries to settle me, but I won’t be settled.
“Don’t let them do that!”
I’m staggered by the flash of a memory—the terror in Scooter’s eyes, fixed on mine, when he was fighting to claw his way back to safety.
“They fixed me, didn’t they?” I say. “They can fix him too.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? I’m human, and he’s not? What are they going to do, shoot him?”
Mom turns desperately to my father for support. He’s standing at the window, and I launch my ire at him too.
“He deserves a chance at life, just like me!”
“They won’t shoot him,” he replies. “But no one wants to see him suffer. It’ll be handled humanely.”
“What do you mean, suffer? I’m in pain, aren’t I? I’m suffering, but you’re not going to put me down.”
My mother scoffs in horror.
“Of course not,” Dad replies. He moves closer to the bed.
“Then what’s there to talk about? Tell them to fix Scooter like they fixed me.”
“It’s not up to us,” he replies. “He was Jacob’s dog, and his family is making those decisions.”
“Then call them. Please, Dad! I can’t lose him too!”
I stare at my father intensely. He turns to my mother, and I watch their unspoken communication, a moment of shared deliberation.
Mom gets up from her chair. “I’ll call Jacob’s mother.”
“Whatever it costs,” Dad adds. “Tell her we’ll pay the vet bills.”
In that moment, I love them more than I’ve ever loved them in my life.
My parents’ help should have satisfied me, but an hour later, I can’t get Scooter out of my head. I’m consumed with thoughts of him at the vet hospital, alone in a cage, broken and bleeding, in pain, like me. Not knowing if Jacob or I have survived. Not knowing if we’ll ever come back for him.
All I want to do is rip these tubes out of my veins and get discharged so that I can go find him. I need him, and he needs me—because he loved Jacob, just like I did. Our suffering is the same.