PROLOGUE
~Julian~
December 2010
Each beep punctuated the air with sound, hitting the center of my chest with the knowledge that each beep meant she was still alive. But those beeps were providing more than life for her. Each one enabled me to hold onto my sanity a little bit longer.
Her hand was cold, clammy, in mine. In the harshness of winter, her skin had lost the color that the summer’s sun gave her. But even then, her skin was paler than it would normally be. So pale, I could make out the veins that ran from her hands to her elbows, disappearing underneath the hospital gown.
I brought her wrist to my mouth and placed a kiss on the underside, right on top of the veins that ran proudly from her hand up through her body. After pulling away, I pressed a thumb to her pulse, taking comfort in feeling its beat against my skin. I dropped my head, cradling it in her hand as I breathed deeply. She smelled different. The smell of clementines was missing, replaced by the artificial smells of the hospital. She smelled sterile. And under that, there was the scent of sea water. It was with that smell that I felt my chest tighten, felt my throat close up. I could have lost her. I still can.
There was a knock on the door behind me. “Julian.” The voice was firm, but kind. I lifted my head up to look at the doorway. A petite blond woman walked to the other side of the hospital bed and reached her hand to shake mine. “I’m Dr. Stephenson. I’m one of the doctors taking care of Andra.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to waste any words, any energy. I was ready to collapse.
Dr. Stephenson moved further into the room. She moved smoothly, as if she’d walked the same path of tiles over and over, every single day. As if she danced to music no one heard. “I know the ER team already spoke to you earlier, but can you answer a few questions for me? We want to make sure we get a handle on what happened.”
What happened? Even I wasn’t completely sure. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Sure.” It was all I could manage to say.
She nodded and took the seat across from the foot of Andra’s bed. She pulled a notebook from her pocket and smiled gently at me. “You were the one who pulled her out, correct?”
I heard three beeps from the machines before I answered. “That’s correct.”
“And you started CPR?”
My mind flashed back to that moment, to when my lips touched hers for probably the thousandth time, only this time it was to deliver life, not affection. Her lips had been so cold, and blue. “Yes.”
“Do you know how long she was under water?”
This question had already been asked a half a dozen times. The first time it’d been asked, I had lost it on the paramedic. I felt a little bad about that. Now that I’d calmed down, I gave the only answer I could. “I wasn’t exactly timing it.”
She nodded. “Of course you weren’t. But could you give an estimate?”
I dropped my head, cradling it in my hands. The moment I’d pulled her out had felt like a blur, a dream sequence. Holding her limp body against me hadn’t felt real. It was a moment I couldn’t forget. But I still didn’t know how much time had actually passed.
Before I could tell her as much, she continued. “Was it as long as a commercial break? Or longer?
I rewound my brain to the moment I didn’t see her come up for breath. I ran down the pier, my chest aching from exertion and fear. I remembered barely registering the shock of cold water hitting my skin as I dove in, my body fueled entirely by adrenaline; I was completely focused on bringing her to the surface. Diving deep, it was her hair I saw first. The long brown strands floating around her at the sandy bottom. As I’d neared her, I’d seen the look of utter peace on her face, eyes closed, her face relaxed. She’d looked ethereal. I remembered bits and pieces: grabbing her by her upper arms, pulling her to the surface, pushing away the blood that swirled in the water around us as I dragged her to the shore. I remembered frantically checking for a pulse as the water dripped from my head onto hers. I remembered pushing down on her chest, over and over, before tilting her head and blowing into her mouth. Over and over again. I remembered being pulled away from her.
“Julian.” The voice was faint, pulling me out of the memory. I whipped my head to the head of the bed, but Andra’s eyes were still closed. My name was said again and I turned my head to the doctor, likely looking at her with renewed grief.
“It was probably less than a commercial break. Or, I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands through my hair in frustration. “Maybe longer? I don’t know.”