Under The Magnolia Page 6

  her own issues.

  When I saw Amelia tonight in that hideous dress, her skin pale as paper

  and frail looking, I lost my shit. There was no spark left in her, but I still

  reacted to her. The second I touched her when she lay broken on the

  ground, told me enough, metaphysical proof that we still belonged together.

  She looked terrified, but desperate. Her eyes were going to stay with me

  for a long time.

  I was planning on waiting for nightfall to sneak into the house and break

  her out, damn the consequences, but I must have fallen asleep. I get my bike

  from behind the tree where I stashed it, shaking out my jacket and getting

  my helmet back on.

  I hear sirens in the distance right as an ambulance comes barreling down

  the road, the only thing down there being Amelia’s house. More sirens

  sound off in the distance and immediately I know something’s incredibly

  wrong.

  I call Alex and Cameron, and as soon as they tell me they’re on their way

  I’m speeding back towards Amelia’s house, nearly wiping out when I find it

  to be a charred, wrecked pile of flames and soot. The flames are still raging

  under the fire hose’s best efforts, and I get right back on my bike, knowing

  she’s not here. If she’s anywhere, and I pray that she is, she’ll be at the

  hospital.

  Cam and Alex come to the same conclusion I did and show up a few

  minutes after me, but they won’t let us in. We’re not family, and there are

  privacy laws. The ER is too quiet, like it’s mourning for us. We spend the

  night on the curb in front of the hospital, taking turns trying to convince

  staff to give us an update.

  Until Sophie calls Alex crying, telling us what I’ve been refusing to

  admit was a possibility. That Amelia was gone, and they couldn’t get to her

  in time.

  I’m ready to lay myself on the train tracks and follow her, but Cam is a

  better man than I am and somehow gets us to his house, his Mom sobbing

  and trying to comfort us but that’s an impossibility. My whole nervous

  system seems to be in stasis, shutting out the world one atom at a time and

  protecting me from feeling more than I can.

  It can’t be true. It just can’t. If Amelia were gone, then how on earth is

  the world still standing?

  Amelia

  I flash in and out of darkness for an indiscriminate amount of time, my

  limbs feeling heavy and weak as a constant hum of small machines runs in

  the background. It’s calming. There’s no angry voices, nothing for me to

  feel.

  My brain is trying to figure out what’s happening, to place where I am,

  but I’m relaxed and then something runs through my veins, dulling the

  edges again.

  The next time I wake up I want to sob. I try to cry out, to make sense of

  the pain I’m in, but can’t. A warm hand runs along my cheek.

  “Relax, sweet girl. You’re safe.”

  The voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds warm and rich. Deep. I want to see

  the face that it belongs to, but my eyes are completely bound.

  “Shhh, just breathe, Amelia. You were in a house fire, but you’re safe

  now. I’ll call the nurses in.”

  My whole body feels like it’s still soaking in flames as I slowly

  remember what had happened. I long to scratch at my arms, to do

  something, anything to make the pain stop.

  Footsteps approach, a soft squeak against tiles. Small, cold hands run

  checks on me.

  “Amelia, my name is Doreen, I’m one of your nurses. Your vocal cords

  are probably pretty damaged from the smoke you inhaled, but can you tell

  me on a scale from one to ten how much pain you’re in?”

  Is there anything else to experience besides pain that I’m missing? I’m

  scared to move, lest I cause myself more of it. I can feel my hands shaking,

  my body trying to writhe to accommodate the assault on my nerves.

  “Okay sweetheart, I’m going to take that as it hurts a whole lot.”

  A cold rush through my veins has me feeling a little loopy and a lot more

  comfortable, my pulse racing as I take stock of my situation. I hear more

  footsteps, heavier this time, and a rustle of papers.

  “Amelia? My name is Dr. Ward. You’ve sustained quite a few injuries,

  but lucky for you that this guy next to you got to you when he did. Let’s get

  a look at those injuries, shall we?”

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, the passing of time impossible to

  measure through all the black spots and healing sleep.

  “Now, you’ve had surgery on your legs Ms. Knight, but the nerve

  damage was very extreme.”

  “wh.-wh…”

  A warm presence scoots closer to me, though my arms feel covered in

  bandages so I cannot feel much more than that.

  “I think she is trying to ask what that means.”

  I give a slight nod.

  “Ms. Knight, there’s not really an easy way to say this. You were lucky in

  that your arms were mostly superficial burns, those should heal nicely after

  the skin grafts heal. It seems some sparks got into your eyes, and whether

  you gain your vision back or not will be a waiting game.

  “Your legs, now, are a different story. Mr. Adams told us a beam fell on

  your legs, and that combined with the fire itself seems to have done

  irreparable damage. You won’t lose your legs at this time, but we’ll need to

  monitor them closely to ensure infection doesn’t set in.

  “Also, we don’t expect you to regain use of them. We will of course get

  you enrolled into therapy to help the healing process, and to push the limits

  of what they’ll be able to do, but I want to remain realistic.”

  I couldn’t really comprehend what he was trying to tell me. Was he

  saying that I wouldn’t be able to walk anymore? Not be able to see?

  “Thanks, Doctor.”

  At least this mystery person has some manners, and the ability to dismiss

  the Doctor. I know it’s not his fault that I’m in this situation, but I still want

  him gone.

  Theo

  I’d always wanted to be a firefighter; always. When I was little, my

  parents would take me to the firehouse every year when they did an open

  house, we got to climb inside the firetrucks, try on the suits, they gave away

  those little plastic helmets.

  I’d always thought the men and women that worked there were real life

  superheroes- running into burning buildings and rescuing people, saving

  people’s homes, helping at car crashes…part of me knew that I had to

  become part of that legacy.

  I don’t think I ever faltered in my career plans. And now I know why.

  When Amelia finally woke up earlier, it was like I was finally able to

  breathe again. She was panicking, and somehow, I understood what she was

  trying to ask. She even calmed a little when I spoke to her or rested a hand

  on some of her less injured parts.

  In the days she’s been in here, she hasn’t had a single visitor, and I can’t

  figure out why. They were all convinced for real by now that I was her

  boyfriend, and her earlier reactions to me helped support that claim. I’m not

  sure she could ever truly see me in that light, but as
I watched her sleep,

  watched her soldier through the healing process, it felt like my future was

  clearer than it had ever been.

  I became a firefighter, because I needed to pull her from that house, so I

  could see her through the next phase. The thought of her not having anyone

  sitting here to hold her hand and comfort her is terrifying.

  Was I overstepping and maybe being a bit creepy? Yes, I think so. I was

  on a leave of absence from work for now, God knows I had enough leave

  time saved up. There was something about this frail girl in front of me,

  something that was magnetic.

  She hadn’t complained or acted as if I was making her uncomfortable, so

  I wasn’t leaving her side. So far I had combed her hair, fumbled through

  braiding it, painted her toenails, read to her, talked about my life…she never

  said much back, but if I stopped she’d flutter about until she landed on me.

  Her voice was getting a little stronger, I had even made her laugh once with

  my stupid jokes.

  I had figured out so far she had nowhere to go when she finally got

  discharged. I had this caveman-like urge to care for her, so I was already

  planning too far ahead. From all the doctors had said, she was in for a long

  ride at the hospital, so we had time to get to know each other before I

  worked up the courage to ask her to move in with me.

  Why, you ask, would I want to invite a stranger to live with me? Movies

  like to portray love like it’s pre-destined, that it just takes you finding that

  right person and then everything will fall into place. I always thought that

  was unrealistic; love takes work and dedication. It isn’t some happenstance

  thing that just slides into place when the time is right.

  Except that as I watch Amelia lay here sleeping, I kind of think I’m

  changing my mind. She would be incredibly easy to fall in love with,

  because she was so open and strong. She shouldn’t be able to have any sort

  of humor after the shit show she just experienced, but somehow she kept

  smiling.

  I notice her start to stir a little bit in her sleep, her movements quickly

  becoming jerky and uncontrolled like she’s having a nightmare, so I spring

  from my chair and hover over her, letting her know she’s not alone.

  “I’m here, Amelia. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

  Her arms are still bandaged up, but she still uses them to seek me out,

  finding me and calming down. I wish I could see into her eyes, but I know

  how important it is to keep them wrapped up while they try and heal. It

  sounds like they won’t be quite the same as they were before the fire, but I

  can be her eyes.

  I kiss her on the cheek, pausing maybe a half second too long, but she

  calms down and goes back to sleep, and I sit back down to continue my

  vigil, my heart more and more lost to her the longer I stay.

  Amelia

  Darkness.

  I’m getting better at hearing sounds, even able to pick out which nurse is

  coming to visit me based on the foot pattern. Maybe the fact that my eyes

  are broken is good, because I don’t have to see the way my body just

  changed.

  I still don’t know much about the angelic man that seems to keep

  showing up, though now I know his name is Theo and he works for the fire

  department. I hear lots of beeps and whirs and voices in the corridor

  throughout the day, sometimes nurses talk to me, but it’s his voice I always

  look forward to the most.

  I can’t keep track of time passing, not sure I really want to. If I’m going

  to be stuck in darkness though, it helps to have someone friendly nearby.

  We had laughed about the fact that the nurses all thought we were dating,

  and every time he left the room they’d gush about how sweet and attentive

  he was.

  And he was.

  He seemed to have a little bit of a rebellious streak in him, hanging

  around just because he wanted to, when in all reality that should have been

  pretty inappropriate. But he calmed me, made me feel safe. My heart was

  breaking all over again for what I had lost with my men, but if I could make

  a new friend then maybe I’ll survive.

  I’m not sure why he’s being so sweet, spending so much time with me

  and taking care of me, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Anytime I’d try and protest, or try to let him off the hook, he’d just tell me

  to stop. Tell me he was an adult and was exactly where he wanted to be.

  Well, then.

  Alex, age 18

  My phone goes off again, Sophie’s name flashing, and I throw it against

  the wall. I can’t talk to her. The reasons I had for remaining friendly with

  her before no longer matter. Right now, anything that reminds me of Amelia

  is just pain. Pure and simple. And I need to do everything I can to avoid

  that.

  It’s been months since we sat in that church, hovering in those pews

  while we poured our heart over the empty casket on display. They say the

  remains were too far gone to be moved, so they were just incinerated and

  that was that. Neat and tidy.

  Except that life is fucking messy.

  I’ve been basically drunk since then, refusing to do anything productive,

  because that would mean I’m moving on, and that’s something I can’t do. I

  knew our parents were worried about the lot of us, but at least they had

  stopped trying to get us to go to school, allowing us to scrape by with the

  online setup Amelia had been dealing with. We were being shits to them,

  but parents are supposed to love us unconditionally, so they’ll still be there

  when we’re done throwing ourselves away.

  Just like I would have been for Amelia.

  Fuck. Just the thought of her name was like poison flowing through my

  body- it licked my veins with fire and made my whole body shake. This

  wasn’t normal. That’s how I knew she was the real deal, that the way I

  loved her wasn’t some childhood fantasy I dreamed up.

  The fact that Cam and Constantine weren’t faring much better was proof

  that she was a real person that lived a real life, and the fact that she’s gone

  just isn’t something I can really process. She should be getting ready to

  graduate with us, not swept up and deposited into the ground in that fucking

  box.

  I hear the guys walk into my house downstairs, not even bothering with

  knocking because they know I won’t answer. I just continue to lie on the

  ground and stare at the ceiling, focusing on nothing in particular. They

  crash through my door and fall next to me, and with the door shut we’re

  able to hold each other’s hands and feel something other than absolute

  destruction for a short moment. If no one sees it happen then no one will

  know that loving Amelia made us even closer than we had been, and that

  losing her made damn sure we would never abandon each other, and we

  won’t have to try and explain anything to them.

  Amelia, age 18

  I’ve been in here for so long now that I forget that I’m not supposed to be

  here. The hospital may be depressing for some people, but how sad is it that

  it’s the safest place I’ve ever been? I’ve
got a case worker assigned to me.

  Seems this hospital puts a lot of importance on mental health, they say that

  I’ve had a life-altering injury and that I’m at risk.

  At risk for what? I’ve been at risk my entire life.

  The lady that comes to speak with me is sweet, though. Nice. Her voice

  reminds me of the way the wind used to rustle through those dark green

  glossy leaves on that magnolia tree in a different lifetime. It took me a bit to

  realize she actually wanted to hear my story. So, I told it. I didn’t think that

  it was shameful, it was just mine.

  She was good, I’ll give her that. She didn’t react to the awful abuse I

  outlined from my father, the mental manipulation from my mother,

  encouraged me to continue when we made it all the way to my aunt ripping

  me from the other pieces of my soul. She just patted my arm. I thought I

  had heard her sniffle a few times, but she always recovered quickly.

  Theo started sitting in on sessions, and his reactions seem a bit more. He

  kept having to leave the room, promising me he wasn’t angry with me. I’m

  not sure why he cares to make that distinction. I’m just an orphan now, and

  a useless one at that. Why should my story make him upset?

  My case worker, Sasha, has found a way to make me smile. Now when I

  mention my boys, it doesn’t hurt as much. I can think of them as the only

  light I’ve had and know that they made a difference in my story. They

  brought light to it when otherwise it would have been even more dismal.

  Amy keeps telling me that I’m worth more than I think. That I’m strong.

  Something that Theo likes to echo. He calls me his strong lady. His hands

  are nice to hold, too. We’re friends now. He says he’s a few years older than

  me, but I don’t care. A friend is a friend.

  Nearly dying has made me lose a lot of my anger, burned through a lot of

  my issues. I had decided that I was just going to figure everything out as I

  go, and not worry too much about the how. Maybe one day, when I was

  more healed and able to interact with the world again, I’d consider letting

  the boys know I was doing okay. But today is not that day.

  I could feel bad for myself and mourn all that I lost in that fire, cry over

  the fact that I was too damaged to be loved, but today I was just going to