Colton looks down at me and feigns confusion. “What are you talking about?”
I narrow my eyes at him, but let him off for now. I’ll investigate later. Curling into his shoulder, I watch the movie on the screen. I don’t recognize this movie or any of the actors in it. When I see someone get shot in their head, I turn and bury my face into Colton’s shoulder. I’m okay with action sequences, but I hate gore. Colton pulls me closer to him and kisses my temple.
“She loves superhero stuff, but hates violence?”
“I hate all the blood and gore,” I mumble against the fabric of Colton’s shirt. When I hear the shooting stop, I look at the TV. Nothing’s happening right now. I angle myself toward it and watch again.
Thirty minutes later, the lead actor in the movie is driving in a car with his wife, arguing. They have a green light, so he starts driving. She turns toward him in the car to yell at him again, but screams when she sees the headlights of a large truck coming toward them. The screen starts moving in slow motion. My mind flashes back to a year ago when I was in a similar situation. The scar on my stomach starts to tingle, and in the back of my mind, I can see the truck moving toward us—the bright headlights blinding me. I watch as my mom turns and looks at me then turns the wheel. The world around me spins and blurs together as the car flips and metal and glass debris rain in.
“I’m…umm…going to go do…something,” I say as I push away from Colton and rush out of the room. I can’t watch that movie anymore. Running into the hallway, I turn to the left. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can’t stay in that room surrounded by everyone. I expected Colton to follow me, so I’m surprised when I turn around and see Chris standing outside of the door.
“It’s not uncommon to relive an experience when you witness something that triggers a specific memory.”
“How did you know that’s why I ran out of the room?”
Chris walks toward me. “I was there, Ryanne. I saw the accident. I saw all the damage.” He pauses and looks down the hallway. “My mom was killed in a car accident too. I was thinking about her when I saw that scene, so I knew you would be reliving what happened to you as well. Your experience is much more recent than mine.” I lean back against the wall and watch as Chris stops in front of me. “I’m sorry about your mother, Ryanne. There was nothing we could do to help her.”
I lean forward and hug Chris. “I know. It’s just hard.” I feel Chris’s arms wrap around my back. “I was supposed to die in that accident. I have to live with the fact that my mom sacrificed herself because she loved me. I used to be so mad at her. I still want to be mad at her, but I’m not,” I bunch my hands in the fabric of his shirt.
“Mothers always think about their children before themselves. It’s a maternal thing,” he says. “It shows that they love you. Someday, you’ll appreciate what she did for you.”
“I’ve talked with her,” I say as I lean backward and look up at him. “I’ve talked with my mom. She helped me get over some of my problems. She told me that she was proud of me and wouldn’t change a thing.” He nods and brushes some of the tears off of my cheeks. I wasn’t aware I had been crying.
“You okay?” he asks. I nod and try to smile. I know it comes out as more of a grimace. Chris looks over at me toward the door and steps away. I know that Colton is standing there, but I reach forward and grab Chris’s arm. He stops and looks down at me again.
“I’m sorry about your mom, Chris.” He nods and walks back into the entertainment room, patting Colton’s shoulder as he passes. Colton starts walking toward me. Instead of letting him walk the whole way, I meet him halfway. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I envelope myself in his familiar scent.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was a scene like that in the movie.” I shake my head and look up at him.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t know what came over me,” I tell him.
“Come on,” he says as he pulls me down the hallway.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Close your eyes,” Colton tells me as we near the back of the house. I look up at him. He’s serious. I close my eyes and wait for his word. I hear the sound of a door opening and the cool night air brushes against my face.
“We’re going outside?” I ask.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
I do as I’m told. “This reminds me of the forest. Do you remember that? The bench?”