Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,88
wreck, do you?”
I kept my expression neutral, wondering where she was going with this. Was she having flashbacks? Maybe post-traumatic stress was causing her fear? “No, I don’t.”
She nodded. “What about before? You used to say that you couldn’t even remember that day… did you ever get that memory back?”
I shook my head. Even after being turned- not that I was going to tell her that- I still had retrograde and anterograde amnesia. The last memory I had was about a week before my crash, and the first memory after was going to rehab, about a week or so after I woke up from my coma. I had lost more than a month.
Chelsea took another deep breath and I could feel her emotions ramping up. “Mel,” she said, so quietly I would have trouble hearing her if I was still human. “I think I caused your accident.”
I stared at her in surprised. I had been driving home from class when I was struck by a drunk driver- an older man that I had never met before. “How in the world could you have anything to do with my accident?”
She looked down and nervously drummed her fingers on the table. “You don’t remember that day. I talked to you on the phone right when you got out of class. I told you that I wanted to go to art school. I was hoping you would take my side and give me some help with Mom and Dad.” She shrugged depreciatingly. “But you laughed at me. I don’t think you realized how much it meant to me. You probably thought I was just being flaky.”
She sighed. “Well, the thing is…I said some pretty terrible things to you. I told you you were too perfect and that someone needed to take you down a notch. I said that you had no life and that you were nothing but a people pleaser. You hung up on me.” She covered her face with her hands. “And then we got the call from the hospital. I said all of those things to you and look what happened…” Everything she had said about me had been ripped from me and I was put in my place, just as she had wished.
I reached out and pulled her hands from her face. “Chelsea,” I said with a soft smile. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean all that crap, and you had no idea what was going to happen.”
She shook her head. “I think you were mad. If you hadn’t been so upset, maybe you would have seen that other car coming and been able to avoid him. I never got the chance to apologize. And then- then I was angry, thinking it was all my fault, but never quite able to tell anyone what happened. Before I knew it, I had turned into all those things I accused you of. Like I had to make it up to Mom and Dad for taking you away.”
I squeezed her hands and blinked back tears. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice trembling. “Everything is fine now. You don’t have to make up for anything.”
She nodded and pulled away. She pulled herself together and took a big gulp of her drink. “I’m going to art school,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I don’t care what anyone says, I’m going. I’ve already applied to the University of California, and they’ve accepted.”
I laughed, truly happy for her. “Mom and Dad will have a cow.” I would miss her while she was so far away, but travel wasn’t really a problem for me anymore. I could go see her whenever I wanted.
Peter met us later, after he got out of work. It was only a short walk from his office to the shopping district. We were in one of those classy old lady stores, trying to find an accessory for Mom when he met up with us. He looked completely out of place, and I added to his discomfort by wrapping a flowery, brightly colored scarf around his neck. “Gorgeous, darling, just gorgeous,” I laughed. Chelsea took out her phone and snapped a picture of him wearing a wide-brimmed boating hat in a classy avocado green. He put up with our abuse stoically, winking at the old lady behind the counter as he tried on a pair of big, ugly sunglasses.
We made our way back to the car in a light mood. I don’t think she would have said anything otherwise. We had just