I sob, holding onto the main mast as my boat creaks and groans beneath me, barely staying afloat in the raging sea. They are gone and I am alone. But then, a beam of light cuts through the darkness. A new boat is coming, someone who can save me. Hope bubbles up within me and I stand tall. Evan stands on the prow of a mighty ship, his hand shielding his eyes from the spray. His Army dress uniform is beautiful and perfect, the way it was at his funeral. He points toward me, and his ship turns. I'm saved.
Lightning flashes, a hot thin jagged line of molten light crashing into Evan's ship. He looks back at it, his face contorting with terror. His ship is on fire. Orange and red flames engulf his ship in fire and he screams, sinking quickly into the black raging waters. I can see the light of the fire slowly fade into the black depths swallowed it completely.
I'm alone again. I have no sails left. The wind keeps on howling, and the rain stings as it hits me. I know that if someone else were here, this never would have happened. It's all my fault that I couldn't reach them in time. I wasn't fast enough to save them. I know in my bones that if someone had been there to help me trim the sails, I never would have hit that storm. I would have gotten home before anyone would have gone out to look for me. My parents never would have been out in that storm if it weren't for me. If they had survived, Evan wouldn't have joined the Army. He'd still be here too.
It was all my fault because I had sailed alone.
***
I woke up in a cold sweat. The hospital room was unfamiliar at first, but moonlight from the window illuminated the room. I heard a quiet beeping at the nurses' station, and soft voices down the hall. I was safe. There was no storm. I willed my heartbeat to slow before it pounded out of my chest, but I knew I would have a hard time falling back asleep. I always did.
I hated that nightmare. It had started the day after my parents died. Grace insisted it wasn't my fault, but only a part of me believed her. My parents had gone out in the storm to look for me. I was the reason they were on the road the night their car crashed. If I hadn't been sailing by myself, if I hadn't been stupid enough to get caught in the storm, then they would never have been out in the rain. Their brakes would never have failed and that tree would have fallen on empty road. If someone had been out on that boat with me, they wouldn't have been so worried. I might not have even been in the storm in the first place.
No, despite Grace's kind words, their death was my fault. I sailed into a storm by myself, and they were worried. If someone had been with me, then everything would be different. The day they died, I swore never to sail alone.
The nightmare had stopped while Evan was with us. The first three years of Avery's life, the nightmares were gone. Evan kept us safe. I always sailed with someone, and things were going well. But then Evan died. I came home from a rough race to Grace's tear stained face and a man in a crisp uniform. My nightmare came back that night, and Evan became a part of it.
I flipped my pillow over, searching for the cool side. It always took me a while to fall back asleep after the nightmare. I hadn't had it for a few months, but with the recent accident, I could see why my brain had dredged it up. The sails being yellow, like my windsurfing sails, was the obvious connection between the nightmares and my accident.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing.
My eyes were growing heavy as I concentrated on keeping my breathing even. I had to be calm going back to sleep, or I'd fall into the nightmare again. It was a risk I took while trying to find rest again. Once the nightmare debuted for the night, it often stayed and replayed itself until morning. I was just drowsing off when a nurse popped her head into my room. She walked over and gently put her hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we have to do another concussion check," she whispered. I groaned and opened my eyes. At this rate, I was never going to get any sleep.
The nurse turned on the bathroom light, the weak yellow bulb casting strange shadows across the room. I sat up, getting ready to answer her questions and let her check my pupils; I yawned, but was actually okay with the fact she was keeping me up. If I was awake, I couldn't get stuck in the storm of my nightmare.
Chapter 7
I lay in bed watching bad TV. Some girl was waiting to hear the paternity test results for her baby and had narrowed it down to five possible guys. I shook my head at her, wondering exactly how she got herself into that situation. Two guys, I could understand. But five? That must have been some party. At least a celebrity dancing show was supposed to be on next. That I could understand.
I glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon, but I was ready to get home. The concussion checks, as well as my nightmares, had made for a poor night's sleep, and the food was the usual terrible hospital fare. I was looking forward to going home to my own bed and my own fridge. As soon as the doctor came by to release me, I could leave. It was going to be a little while, though, as the nurses said he was stuck on an emergency case. Since the Saunders were covering my medical bills, I didn't really mind the wait. If nothing else, I was catching up on my trashy TV.
A soft knock on my door drew my attention. I was all dressed and ready to go, in just comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, but I still smoothed the front of my shirt. Hopefully it was the doctor coming to release me. I didn't want to have hospital food for dinner if I didn't have to.
"Come in," I called. The door opened slowly, and a tall figure stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. It was Robbie. He closed the door carefully behind him, coming into the main area of the room and standing there awkwardly. I fumbled with the TV remote, finding the mute button first.
Robbie stood at the foot of my bed. The collar was crooked on his polo shirt, and wrinkles lined his pants; it looked as though he had slept in his clothes from the night before. I wondered when the last time he had shaved had been, as his five-o'clock shadow was more like a five-day shadow. It matched his sandy hair, messed and unruly. He didn't make eye contact, instead looking at the foot of my bed, his whole body radiating sorrow and regret.
"I'm not really sure why I'm here, but... I didn't know where else to go. I'll leave if you don't want me here." His voice was low and full of restrained heartache. It sounded as if he had been crying, and given that his eyes were red and his hair disheveled, I certainly thought he had been. I wanted to stand up and give him a hug, to comfort the misery hanging heavy on his shoulders, but I made myself stay in bed. Just because I still thought of him as a friend, it didn't negate the fact we hadn't spoken in years.
"No, don't go. Here, have a seat," I offered, pointing to one of the chairs next to my bed. He stared at it for a moment before moving slowly. He sat gingerly, as though I might change my mind at any second and ask him to leave. We sat in silence for a moment.