Tame

Chapter Nineteen

If I knew Friday, November 19, 2010 was going to be my best friend, Zina Marine's last day alive, I would've fought harder to keep her here.
It was a stormy evening. Zina and I were making our way out of the mall. I didn't think it was safe to leave with the weather being this bad; the other people at the mall certainly weren't making an effort to go. Zina, however, wanted to get home even though we weren't expected to be until hours later.
I tried to convince her to stay...at least until the storm let up, but she wasn't having it and dragged me out into the car. The rain wasn't expected so we had nothing to protect us on the way to her truck. We were soaked to the bone by the time she unlocked the doors and we climbed inside. I still remember how cold and trembly I was even when she put the heat on full blast.
The road was slippery and the headlights' glow was drowned out by the rain making it nearly impossible to see the white lines of the road.
"I think we should pull over," I had told her. "I really don't think this is safe."
"You're such a worry wart," she teased, nudging my arm with her elbow. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."
The next moment's events contradicted her. The roaring of the rain masked the honk of a semi-truck and we didn't even notice that we were skidding sideways. We still thought we were okay. She was smiling and everything, even throwing her head back, laughing to put more emphasis on her assurance. That was the last sound I heard out of her mouth.
I had woken up in the hospital the next day. I remember the first thing I asked was weather Zina was okay. The doctor and nurse shook their heads gravely. I remember hearing rapid beeping and the doctor with a few more nurses were scampering around me, trying to get me to calm down.
Calm down? How could I have calmed down? How would you relax if you found our your best friend was dead when you just saw her not too long ago?
I demanded to see her. The doctor had pointed out that I had a dislocated left arm and my right leg was broken in two places. I hadn't even noticed. The shocked of what I learned had drowned out the pain. But even with another piece of new knowledge, I still needed to see her. Two nurses helped me out of bed and we made our way into the room next door. It felt like we were going at a snail's pace, the walk was excruciatingly slow. Zina should've been decomposed by the time we opened the door.
There was nothing but a lump on the hospital bed. My breath was shaky knowing that Zina's body was under that sheet. I knew what she would look like, but I peeled the blanket back anyways.
The first thing I noticed was her hair. It was in her signature messy bun, the one where wisps of her hair escaped and framed her heart-shaped face. I couldn't get over how shiny her hair still was, even in death. This little piece of familiarity gave me a tiny bit of comfort. Her skin was bone white, though, and it looked like her eyes were taped shut. It physically pained me that I would never be able to see her beautiful green eyes again, but I didn't have the guts to open her eyes myself. My gaze finally landed on her lips, her awfully blue lips, that were tilted up in at the corners in a small smile.
It was like she was at peace with being dead. I remember her saying how she missed her older brother who got shot during a drive-by and how she couldn't wait to be with him again. That's probably the reason why her face looks so happy and content.
Her smile made her look alive again. If you blocked out her drastically pale skin and the fact that her lips were not their natural pink color anymore, you'd think she was just sleeping. I lightly ran my thumb over her full bottom lip. I shivered at how cold she was.
A big, fat tear slipped down my cheek and landed smack on the side of her nose, but I didn't have the heart to wipe it away.
"Why didn't you just listen to me?" I ask, my voice cracking on a sob. "Why couldn't we have just stayed?"
That smile stayed with her. It was there when I put the cover back over her head, it was there when her body was on display at her funeral, it was there when I gave my eulogy, and it was there when she was lowered into the ground forever.
We weren't best friends for long, but it didn't matter because it felt like we've known each other forever. She was my other half and when she died, that part she held so dearly was buried into the ground with her. People threw dirt on that part, too.
I was never the same again. Her death was another reason why I was so bent on leaving my family and the life they wanted for me. I had to live for her, and that life was not in the kitchen with tiny hands clinging to my dress.

"Ssh, it's okay, baby girl. Everything's going to be just fine."
I relax into a rock solid form as soothing words caress my ears. A warm, calloused hand smoothes my hair down. I flutter an eye open and make it look up.
"Dean?" I whisper. "Are we dead?"
He gives a jerky shake of his head. "No." His soothing tone cracks a little. "We're not."
As my senses come back, I hear the storm before I see it. Its roaring is still going strong and the tap-tap of fat raindrops is steady as it hits the car.
I open my other eye and see nothing but heavy sheets of water surrounding us, making it seem of if we're underwater. "Where are we?" I question hoarsely.
"The side of the road. When I saw that semi-truck, I quickly drove to the side. That dumbass was going the wrong way," Dean explains and starts back up with stroking my hair as he tightens his arm around my waist.
I realize that I'm on his lap in the driver's seat. The car's off and the cold is seeping in through the windows, chilling us-or at least me-to the bone.
Noticing my shivering, Dean reaches into the backseat and grabs his jacket, blanketing it over me. I snuggle into him and close my eyes, willing myself to relax. The worse was over.
"You know, you scared me," Dean says and my eyes open into slits. "When you passed out, it scared the shit out of me. I thought you were in so much shock that you died."
"That's kind of an exaggeration, don't you think?" I state.
I feel him shrug. "I was scared and panicky, I didn't have time to really think about whether you could die from shock or not."
I smile a little. "Sorry I freaked you out," I mumble sleepily.
Noting my grogginess, he tilts his seat back and shifts into a comfortable position underneath me. "Hopefully the rain will let up when we wake up," he yawns, cuddling up to me.
"Yeah," I agree.
Our silence that fills the car is more defeaning than the sound of the storm. There are so many questions and answers that are hanging in the air around us.
"My friend died in a car accident during a thunderstorm," I tell him, though I don't know what compels me to say it. He gives my thigh a comforting squeeze but doesn't say anything.
I never wanted to say that out loud for fear that it would make her death more real, but she's been dead for over two years; she's not coming back.