Very Lucky Indeed

So many questions flood my mind that at first, I'm speechless. Why are you here? I want to ask Cam. What happened? How long have I been here? Am I okay? Where's Bryan?

I clear my throat. "How did you know where to find me?" I ask finally. 

Cam looks surprised that I've spoken. "I-I stopped by your house," he says a little shakily. "It was really good timing, that's all."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. I lay back a little on the pillow, wincing. My head aches and breathing hurts a little. I glance down and feel my heartbeat quicken when I see that my torso is wrapped in white. 

"It's hard to explain," Cam begins. "It's really all thanks to Emma."

"Emma?" I sit back up quickly even though it hurts. "Is she here?" I remember the post it I left on the kitchen counter. "Did she get my note?"

"She left to grab some food a few minutes ago. Your mom was here too."

Can really hasn't been answering all of my questions, mostly because as soon as I ask one I think of another. "How long have I been here?"

"Just a few hours," he tells me. 

"Hours?" I panic. "But work! And the Fourth of July!"

Cam shushes me a little. "Don't worry about that. The important part is that you're safe."

I swallow. "Can you just," I say slowly, "explain everything to me. Please."

So he does. He tells me how I was knocked out at the scene, as was Bryan. Someone calls 911 and we're taken to the hospital--I can't even imagine the bills I'll have to pay--and luckily my phone was still in my pocket. Emma, who had apparently seen my note, had texted me, so her number was the first one the people at the hospital had seen. They called her, and she in turn called my mom. And Cam. 

"She called you?" I interrupt. She knew we were broken up! 

Cam shrugs. "She sounded terrified, Ryan."

He tells me that he rushed to my apartment and Emma drove him to the hospital, where they met my mom and have been stationed for a couple hours. 

It takes a few minutes for the story to sink in. I really have Emma to thank for all of this. She had been looking out for me all along. 

Suddenly it occurs to me--I haven't asked about Bryan at all, but now doesn't seem the time. 

Just as things may have started to get awkward between Cam and I, Emma bursts through the door, still in her work uniform. I realize that she must have skipped work to be with me. 

"Thank god," she almost shrieks, her voice slightly too loud for this room. She runs over and flops on top of me. I wince. "Oh god," she repeats. "What hurts?"

"My ribs," I say, touching them with my fingertips. "Where am I hurt?"

Emma and Cam shake their heads. I still can't believe they're both here.

"Em," I say, grabbing her hand, "thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't-I don't-" Suddenly I'm tearing up, and embarrassed to be showing so much emotion in front of Cam. Who cares, part of me thinks. I was just in a motorcycle accident. I'm allowed to cry. 

I see a few tears in Emma's eyes as well. "I've been such an asshole," she says quietly. 

Before the real waterworks hit, a nurse walks into the room. "I heard you're awake," she says. She touches my forehead and continues. "You might not feel this way, but you're incredibly lucky. You practically bounced on the ground." I'm shocked at her wording, but simultaneously grateful. I don't want to be coddled. "A few ribs are bruised and your neck is strained, but other than that and a few bad scratches, you're okay." She shakes her head. "Very lucky indeed." 

After checking me over and making some marks on her clipboard, she eyes me. "Your friend, Bryan, is not doing as well," she tells me. Seeing the shock on my face, she hurriedly adds, "He's going to be fine. He's also lucky. Just shock and a broken arm."

"A broken arm?!" Guilt crashes into me like waves. This is all my fault; I'd wanted him to take me on a bike ride. 

The nurse doesn't say anything, she just touches my forearm lightly and gives me a meaningful look. It's as if she can read my mind. Then, she leaves. 

"Is my mom coming back?" I ask. 

"She had to go home, but she was here just looking at you for two hours," Emma says with a shaky laugh. "As soon as she found out that you were going to survive, she calmed down. A little. I made the doctor promise to call her as soon as you woke up, so I'm sure she already has."

"I'll call her too," I offer. Emma bites her lip. 

"You're phone is a little...shattered," she says. "The nurse who found my number got glass stuck in her finger."

I groan. I know it could be much, much worse--I've known people who have become paralyzed from motorcycle accidents--but now that I know I'm safe, I'm mad at myself. Huge hospital bills and now I'll need a new phone? 

I try to calm down and look at the bright side. I can't be selfish at a time like this. 

"I'm so grateful that you're here," I say to both Emma and Cam. "I don't know what I'd do without you." The last word catches in my throat and I'm in danger of crying. 

Emma sees this and says, "on the bright side, I can take you home now. I promised your mom I'd take excellent care of you."

"She did," Cam agrees. It's the first time he's spoken in a while. We look at each other silently for a moment, each trying to tell the other something. 

"I'd better go," he says finally. "I'm glad you're safe," he tells me. "Give me a call soon, okay?" With that, he's gone. 

Now it's just Emma and I. "Em, I'm so sorry for all of this," I tell her. "I was such an idiot."

She holds up her palm. "Stop. None of this. I love you and you love me. This is bigger than both of us and our stupid fight. Let's get you home." 

We don't say much on the ride back, but we don't need to. I know I've got Emma back; she never really left at all. And after all that's happened today and in the past few weeks, I'm grateful just to have Emma in the car with me, driving me home, humming along to an oldies song on the radio. Like nothing ever happened. 

Ride of My Life

I stay in the office late on Thursday, working on a Fourth of July style piece. After I've edited it and read it over for the fifth time, I publish it. For the first time in a few weeks, I feel accomplished. Like my old self. I go home ready for the long weekend but also satisfied with my work. 

Tonight I'm going on a date with Bryan. He's picking me up on his motorcycle, so I put on long jeans and a t shirt with sleeves. I know the exhaust can be scorchingly hot. 

I haven't seen Emma since I noticed her things were out of the apartment, and I'm not surprised that she isn't there now. I wish she was there so we could have a drink or two and gossip about our plans. Last year on the Fourth of July we day drank on our porch and lit box after box of sparklers. Thinking about it makes me nostalgic, especially since I'm all alone this year. 

I straighten up. No, not all alone, I tell myself. I have a date tonight. 

With a sudden flash of inspiration, I whip out a pen and a bright pink post it note. I write down that I'll be on a date, but I'll be home later and... I pause. What else should I write? I'd love to hang out tomorrow? I'll buy the sparklers? Don't move out? I sigh and draw a heart and sign my name. At least I know she'll see it. 

A few minutes later, I get a call. It's Bryan. 

"I'm just outside," he says. "Come down when you're ready!" 

I quickly tie my hair up in a ponytail and dash downstairs. I spot him immediately; he's on a bright red racing bike, wearing a riding jacket and a grin. My heartbeat speeds up and my mouth starts to water, like it always does when I'm nervous. 

Waving, Bryan beckons me over. 

"It's beautiful," I tell him, lightly touching the metal. 

"Isn't it?" He says proudly. "Hop on. I was thinking we'd go for a ride."

"I thought we were getting dinner?" 

He waves one hand. "We can grab something quick. You eat dinner every day. But you've never been on a bike ride!" 

This is true. I hoist myself on the bike. For a moment I'm hesitant to put my arms around him; we still don't know each other well, and we've barely kissed. But he grabs my hands and wraps them around his midsection. 

"The seat is pretty small, so you'll want to hold on tight," he advises. "Oh." He reaches in the saddlebags and pulls out a helmet for me. "You'll need this."

"I hope not," I say with a shaky laugh. 

Before I know it, we're off. All my anxiousness about holding onto Bryan disappears in the first few seconds. I'm terrified; the speedometer says we're only going 25 miles an hour, but I feel like I'm flying. A few bugs smack into my face, and I'm glad I brought sunglasses. 

Bryan was right--it is cramped on the seat, so I scoot a little closer to him. My legs are clamped onto the metal, and I bite down on my tongue so I don't say turn around!

But after a few minutes, the fear unclenches itself in my stomach. The wind feels cool on my cheeks, and I feel strangely powerful and free. I'm starting to get the hang of the bikes motions and turns. 

"This is fun!" I shout over the wind. 

Bryan nods. He turns his head a little. "Wanna go a little faster?"

I'm still a little nervous, but I say "sure!" 

He turns onto another road, this one less busy. There are trees on either side of the road, and it's really gorgeous. I turn my head from side to side, taking in the beauty. I've been on this street a few times before, but always in a car. I've never taken the time to really look at my surroundings. Who knew central Ohio could be so peaceful and picturesque? 

I barely register the other cars on the road. I feel like it's just Bryan, the bike, and myself. This ride was just what I needed. 

"This is incredible!" 

Bryan turns back to look at me and say something, and out of the corner of my eye I see a car passing us. Bryan is saying something, but I don't hear him. Because his head is turned, he turns the handlebars a little too. Before I know what's happening, the car in the other lane cuts us off. 

I see everything and then nothing--the front of Bryan's bike just before the car clips it, the car swerving, and suddenly I'm in the air. I feel myself land, but I don't see the bike, I don't see Bryan, I don't see the other car... And then I don't see or feel anything at all. 

I wake up and feel pain before I can see anything; the pain blinds me. It's in my spine, through my legs, and in my chest. It hurts to breathe, but I inhale as though I've been holding my breath. 

Finally my vision clears, and before I recognize that I'm in a hospital, in a hospital bed, without Bryan, I recognize the figure in the chair out of the corner of my eyes. The figure notices me awakening and suddenly a face is over me, expression full of familiar concern. 

I know who it is before my vision has fully returned to me. 

Cam. 

Moving on and Moving out

The fight with Emma doesn't resolve itself as I'd told myself it would. We're both stressed, I keep telling myself. Maybe she and DJ had a fight and she felt the need to defend him. Or all relationships have disagreements sometimes. Only what had happened between Emma and I certainly wasn't a disagreement; it was a fight, plain and simple. 

And as another week passed where we didn't speak, I start to believe that our friendship will never be the same. 

Luckily, I don't have too much time to worry about Emma. Work is a madhouse, even with the new assistant. I have been doing spreadsheet afrer spreadsheet, crunching numbers all day with hardly any time at all to do my actual job. I try to explain this to Kent at our end of the week meeting, but he brushes away my concern entirely. 

"There are plenty of other people working here who can help you out if need be," Kent assures me. "And you're getting so much work done."

"But," I say, trying to word this carefully. "I wasn't hired to do spreadsheets. I was hired to write fashion articles." 

"Sometimes job duties change," Kent says. 

"I understand that, but I haven't been able to give any of my time to writing and editing. While I'm relatively comfortable with excel, I don't know many of the advanced formulas," I tell him. I don't tell him to hire someone who actually knows what they're doing, but I want to. 

"Ryan, you're doing a great job," he says, as though encouragement is what I need. As though telling me I'm doing fine will help me learn advanced excel formulas. 

After that, Kent makes it clear the meeting is over. 

So I take matters into my own hands. I finish up my work and then close out of excel. It feels good to look into my old notebooks filled with trends and designers emails. I stretch and get to work. 

At the end of the day I've contacted a few magazines and written an article about spring trends that have transitioned into summer trends. I'm already brainstorming a fourth of July article. For the first time in a while, I feel motivated and accomplished. I leave work with a smile. 

I see I have two texts and for a split second I hope one is from Emma. Nope; one is from Bryan and the other is from Marie. I excitedly read Marie's message. She wants to have dinner sometime soon! We haven't talked much since her announcement, and she wants Kolby and I to meet her girlfriend! I can't help it--I clap my hands in excitement. 

I then read Bryan's message. He wants to go on a date... And he wants to pick me up on his motorcycle! I text him back quickly and say that I'm down, anytime. I've never had a bucket list, but if I did, riding a motorcycle would be on it for sure. I'd just never had the balls to do it on my own. 

Marie sends me another message and asks to meet for happy hour drinks. It's a Wednesday, but what the hell. The last two weeks have been horrible, and I could use a half price beer. 

I meet Marie at Arch City, which has the best happy hour in the short north area of Columbus. Half price beers and pizzas! Heavenly. 

Marie is already seated when I arrive. She looks very pretty in a sundress and wedge heels. I suddenly feel grungy in my post-work jean shorts. 

Marie gets up to hug me as soon as she sees me. I'm surprised. Kolby was always more of a hugger, while Marie was more reserved. 

"It's been ages," she says. "How are you?"

I sigh. "Honestly, not great. So let's not talk about that. How are you?"

Marie beams. Truly, it's as though the sun is shining through her grin. "Ryan, to tell you the truth, I've never been better." She tells me about how the information about Liam's cheating made her realize that she never really loved him anyway, and that led her to realize she hadn't been being true to herself. 

"I'd been so worried about dating Leena--that's my girlfriend--thinking that it was some kind of phase or rebound." Marie explains to me as she sips her beer. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I like her for her, not because I needed a change after Liam."

"Marie, that's incredible," I tell her sincerely. "I'm so happy for you. You really deserve it. So, when can I meet her?" 

"Well," Marie takes another drink. "I'm a little nervous, to tell you the truth. I haven't asked Kolby yet."

"Kolby loves everyone," I say, not quite understanding. "She'll want to meet Leena."

Marie nods. "I know, but I'm worried that she'll be jealous."

"Jealous?" I ask incredulously. 

"It's just that we've been best friends for so long," Marie explains. "I'm worried she'll think I'm abandoning her for another best friend."

"I don't think she'll be upset like that," I say. "Kolby loves you, and she wants you to be happy."

I can tell I've reassured Marie a little, but for the rest of our get-together all I can think about is what she said. We've been best friends for so long... 

Had Emma thought that I'd abandoned her for Cam? I hadn't tried to, but maybe she thought I was putting our friendship on the back burner. And now she's doing the same to me. 

Of course, when I get back home, the apartment is empty and silent. I think about texting Emma, but I'm not sure what to say, and even if I did, it couldn't be said through a text message. 

I turn the TV on and walk to the kitchen to grab a snack. I pass Emma's room, and the door is open. Peering in, I'm shocked at what I see-- or what I don't see. 

Hardly anything is left in Emma's room. Her bed is neatly made, but her favorite blanket is gone. Her nightstand is bare, as is her dresser, which is always covered in folded laundry. I check her closet, and it's less than half full. 

Emma has slowly been moving out. 

I know that I have to set things right.