My parents had always been polite to Terry. Polite the way you are to a waiter you don’t plan to tip well.
I told myself I was imagining things.
***
In my room, I unzipped the garment bag halfway and touched the beaded straps. Somewhere across town, Terry was probably pulling into that tailor’s parking lot, singing along to whatever bad country song he loved that week.
My phone buzzed. It was a picture.
My boyfriend holding up a garment bag that held his suit, thumbs up, grinning like an idiot.
“I was actually hoping to see you in it,” I typed.
“I know, but I thought building the suspense would be better. I’m going to stay at a motel near the tailor’s shop. I’ll drive back tomorrow. See you at 7 p.m., babe.”
I zipped the garment bag closed, humming under my breath, with no idea that this was the last ordinary evening of my life.
***
The following day started normally.
I texted Terry, and he told me he was going to leave town in the afternoon. He’d had the suit fitted and wanted some last-minute alterations. But he was still going to meet me at the school gym that evening.
I kept myself busy with prom preparations for the rest of the day.
***
My mother dropped me off at school that evening. My father was struggling with a backlog, according to my mother.
“Terry better have you home by midnight, no later,” my mother said.
“He will, thanks.”
***
The prom was packed, and everyone looked good.
The last time I checked, Terry had left town long ago, but he still hadn’t made it to school and wasn’t responding to my texts or calls.
***
My phone rang just after nine that night.
I saw Linda’s name on the screen and smiled, expecting her to tell me Terry was running late.
I moved to a quieter spot in the gym and answered. Instead, I heard her crying.
She was crying so hard that I could barely understand her.
“Chloe, honey, Terry’s in the hospital,” she sobbed. “There was…” She stopped for a moment, taking a shaky breath. “There was a car accident.”
I remember thinking that the pause before the words sounded strange.
I quickly booked a ride to the local hospital.
In the cab, I called my parents.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” my mother asked when she heard me crying.
“Terry! An accident!”
“He’s at the hospital? Do you want us to come over?” my mother asked.
“No, his mom is there. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
***
That night, I sat outside the ICU with Terry’s mom.
The doctors eventually said he was stable but still in a coma.
***
His mom and I sat beside his bed until sunrise.
I held his hand, begging him to wake up. I whispered every stupid inside joke we’d ever shared.
I was still wearing the dress we’d chosen together.
***
Weeks passed before my boyfriend squeezed my fingers back.
Against all predictions, he survived and woke up!
The doctors called it a miracle.
They also called the wheelchair permanent. I didn’t care about either word.
My high school sweetheart was alive, and that was the only thing that mattered.
***
My parents came to visit Terry once a week at first. I noticed how his whole body tensed whenever they walked into the room.
“You don’t have to stay long,” he’d say, his eyes fixed on the blanket.
“Nonsense,” my mother would answer. “We’re family.”
***
One afternoon, I stepped out for coffee and came back to find Terry pale and silent, my father just leaving the room.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. We were just talking.”
“Terry?”
My boyfriend also insisted that he didn’t remember the accident. I wasn’t sure I believed him.
I dropped it. I dropped it a hundred times.
***
At home, my parents started their quiet campaign.
“Honey, you have your whole life ahead of you,” my mother said one night, stirring her tea. “Terry’s a wonderful boy. But this… this is going to be so much for you.”
“I love him.”
“I’m not leaving him, Mom.”
My father didn’t look up from his newspaper. “Your mother just wants you to think about your future.”
“My future has Terry in it. End of discussion.”
I thought I’d won something that night. I thought I was the loyal one, the strong one.
