First Crush, My Forever

Chapter 37

  Both of my moms and I are sitting in the living-room half-listening to the local news while they talk about changes in the school year. The high school had an unexpected opening; the creative-writing teacher went on maternity leave and decided to stay home instead of coming back to the school. Mama, ever the English-department matchmaker, sparked up.

  "That means we need someone by the start of second quarter," she tells mom, tapping her pen on a yellow legal pad. "Someone who actually knows the difference between symbolism and purple prose."

  I don't even hesitate. "Dani needs a job. She'd be perfect."

  Mama's eyebrows shoot up, amused. "You think so?"

  "She taught creative-writing at the university before she resigned," I said. "She's brilliant with students, edits like a surgeon, and has patience for days."

  Mama leans back, weighing it. "Well, I didn't know she left the university. Anything I should worry about before offering her the position and recommending her?"

  I open my mouth to explain, when the doorbell rings.

  Once.

  Again.

  Then five rapid-fire presses, frantic.

  We all jolt. Mama stands first, mom close behind, shoulders squared, already in protector mode. I feel the air thin. Something is wrong.

  They reach the foyer, and the moment the door cracks open I hear a small, terrified voice but can't understand what she is saying.

  "Kadence?" Mama gasps.

  The way she says it makes my blood turn to ice. I sprint out of the living room into the foyer. Mama steps inside, KK clutched against her chest. The little girl's face is blotchy, tear-streaked, her tiny fists gripping mama's blouse like the world is collapsing.

  Between hiccupped sobs KK tries to speak but just quivers.

  "Shh, honey, you're okay," Mama croons, rubbing KK's back... yet KK's panic doesn't ease.

  "I need TayTay," she wheezes. "Need my TayTay..."

  That cracks me wide open. I scoop her from mama's arms. "I've got you, princess. I'm here."

  KK buries her face in my neck, whole body trembling. I rock her gently, whispering, "You're okay. I've got you." My heart hammers so hard I wonder if she can feel it.

  "He... he hurt mommy," she gulps, breath hitching.

  Everything inside me locks. "What happened, baby?"

  She forces the words through sobs. "He came in... yelling... Mommy... he made her fall down the stairs."

  No more questions. I pass KK back to mama. "Call 911. Now."

  Mom tries to catch my sleeve. "Taytum..."

  "I said now." The edge in my voice surprises even me.

  I bolt out the door barefoot, the lawn damp under my feet from the earlier rain. A wind has picked up; leaves swirling down the quiet street, but in my chest there is only roaring. Dani's front door sags on busted hinges, the frame split where the deadbolt had been. My pulse thunders as I push it open.

  "Dani!" The silence inside is worse than any scream.

  Living room furniture is scattered, side table on its side, lamp shattered, Dani's phone face down on the hardwood. Every overturned object feels like a breadcrumb leading to something uglier.

  Stairs.

  My breath freezes when I see her at the bottom... crumpled, twisted in a way no body should bend, head against the wall, blood smudging her lip and brow. One arm curled beneath her, fingers limp.

  "Dani." A whisper, then louder, "Dani!"

  I drop to my knees, palms slick with sweat, searching for the rise of her chest. There, faint, but there. I press trembling fingers to her neck. Pulse... slow, thin, but present.

  Phone. I still clutch mine in a death grip. I jab 9-1-1, voice already shaking.

  "My mom's calling too, but Dani Howard..." I rattle off the address, words tumbling. "She's unconscious. He pushed her down the stairs. Please, hurry."

  The dispatcher's instructions filter through the speaker: check breathing, don't move her neck, help is on the way. I set the phone on speaker beside us and lean close, cupping Dani's cheeks gently.

  "Dani, baby, it's Taytum. Can you hear me?" My own voice was cracking. "Hold on. An ambulance is coming. I've got you."

  Sirens echo faintly in the distance, too far, not fast enough.

  I brush blood matted hair from her forehead, noticing bruises darkening along her jaw and collarbone. Rage coils in my gut so tight it feels like wildfire. But rage won't help her breathe. I force myself still, counting each shallow rise of her chest, whispering, "Stay with me. Please stay with me."

  Minutes stretch into years. The dispatcher keeps talking... I barely register the words, until bright red lights pulse through the foyer windows. Boots pound up the steps, EMT voices overlapping.

  "Back up just a hair, ma'am, thank you."

  I scoot aside but never fully let go, keeping one hand on Dani's shoulder as they fit a cervical collar, and slid a board beneath her. Her eyelids flutter once, pain flickering across her face before she slips under again.

  They ask questions, date of birth, allergies, how long unconscious. I answer in staccato bursts, throat raw, the answers I know. When they lift the stretcher, I grab her hand until they wheel her outside.

  I follow, stumbling onto the porch, lights, sirens now deafening. The neighborhood has gathered in half-lit clusters, whispers floating. Mom stands at the curb with KK wrapped in a blanket, mama on the phone with the police. KK's big eyes find mine; she clutches her Princess Tiana doll I had given her.

  "Can I ride back there with her?" I asked one of the EMT's.

  They both look at me and shake their heads. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but you are not family and we have to keep her stable." One finally says.

  "But..."

  I don't get to finish when one of the EMT's interrupts me. "Ma'am, we have to go, I'm sorry."

  "Fine, I'll meet you at County General," I tell the EMT loading Dani. He nods.

  I jog back, pull KK and my moms into the tightest hug I can manage without shaking apart.

  "Ambulance is heading out," Mom says gently. "We'll follow in the car."

  KK's tiny voice quivers, "Is Mommy dead?"

  "No, baby," I say, kneeling so our faces met. "She's hurt, but she's alive. We're going to the hospital to be with her."

  She wipes her nose on the blanket and nods, trusting me completely. That trust felt heavy but vital.

  I kiss the top of her head, then stand. "Let's go."

  As Mom steers the car behind the flashing lights, KK crawls into my lap in the back seat, illegal, sure, but right now I need her close as much as she needs me. She presses her ear against my heart like listening to its beat would keep both of us from falling apart.

  Streetlamps streak across the windows, each one a silent metronome counting down the distance to the ER. I rest my cheek on her hair, staring at the ambulance ahead while my mind replays Dani's body at the bottom of the stairs over and over.

  Just hold on, I silently beg her.

  Hold on until I get there.

  Hold on until I can put you back together.

  Sirens wail us through red lights, and I tell myself they sound like hope, not fear. I keep whispering promises into KK's hair, promises I pray I can keep, until the hospital doors swallow the ambulance's lights and we roll into the night behind it.