The Art of Losing Yourself (39 page)

C
ARMEN

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I knew I was too late. People were already getting in their cars. The parking lot was clearing. My heart sank. I messed up, royally. I made a promise to Gracie, and in the midst of my own turmoil, I broke that promise. Sure, I couldn’t control the traffic jam, but I should have never been in a position to get caught in the traffic jam to begin with. Up until ten minutes before the match, I’d forgotten all about the girl who’d been counting on me.

I unbuckled my seat belt and made my way inside the school. Like a salmon swimming upstream, I headed toward the auditorium while everybody else headed away, keeping an eye out for Ben or Gracie. I pushed through the heavy double doors. Pockets of students remained. I rose up onto my tiptoes and spotted Eli leaning against the stage with a small group of classmates. I made my way down the aisle. Eli saw me coming before I arrived.

“Hey, Mrs. Hart. Did you just get here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” I glanced around at the others, giving them a distracted smile. “Do you know where Gracie is?”

“No. I asked if she wanted to hang out after the match, but she said she wanted to be alone.”

“They didn’t win?”

Eli shook his head. “It was close, though.”

I cupped my hand over my eyes. Gracie and I may have made giant strides over the last several months, but our relationship wasn’t what I’d call stable. We were still in the trust-building phase. “Have you seen Ben?”

“No, sorry.”

The pit in my stomach grew. “Could I borrow your phone? My battery’s dead.”

“Sure.” Eli took his out from his back pocket and handed it over.

I dialed Gracie, then stuck my thumbnail between my front teeth. No answer. I tried Ben next. He answered on the third ring.

“Hello—Eli?”

“Please tell me you’re here somewhere at the school. Please tell me you didn’t miss it too.”

“Carmen?” There was a pause, and then a light bulb must have gone on, because Ben let out an audible groan. “The academic bowl.”

“Yeah.”

“I am such a schmuck. With everything that happened…I totally forgot. I’m at home, making dinner.”

“Gracie’s not there?”

“No. So you missed it too?”

“There was an accident on the bridge. Traffic was at a standstill. I would have called you, but my phone died. I just got here. Eli said they lost and that she wanted to be alone. I have no idea where she is.” But even as I said it, a memory wiggled its way to the forefront of my mind—a night several days before Christmas, when I drove out to The Treasure Chest to check on the sign and found Gracie sitting by the pool with a can of RC Cola.
“I like it here,”
she had said.
“It’s a good place to be alone.”
“Never mind. I know where she is.”

“Where?”

“The Treasure Chest.” Of course she’d go there. She ran there once, she’d run there again.

I hung up with Ben, gave Eli his phone back, said “thank you,” and hurried out of the auditorium, my worry gathering and swirling like the storm outside. It was a much different kind than the worry I felt that very first Friday, when I came home from the football game and discovered Gracie wasn’t there. Much different, even, than the worry I felt later, when Eli brought Gracie home drunk and stoned well past midnight. That was the indignant kind of worry. The “how could you be so ungrateful” worry. The kind of worry that was more anger than concern. The worry I experienced now was of the “squeeze your heart” variety, the “Lord, please help me find her” variety.

I stepped outside into the dark and the wind, climbed into my car, and drove east. Up above, the sky was a mass of angry black that tied my frazzled nerves into knots. By the time I reached Highway 399, the wind was so strong, I had to wrestle with the steering wheel to keep the car on the road. I didn’t release my tight grip until I turned into the parking lot and spotted Gracie’s Mirage parked near the front office. I pulled up beside it and rushed out into a
wind that turned me into Dorothy from
The Wizard of Oz
, only instead of shouting “Auntie Em, Auntie Em!” I was shouting Gracie’s name. She didn’t have a key to get inside, which meant she must be outside. I headed through the courtyard, toward the pool, where some of the chairs had toppled onto their sides. Palm trees bent at odd angles in the distance, a storm siren wailed.

I turned in a three-sixty and spotted someone on the beach, walking into the water. My heart leaped into my throat. What in the world was she doing—trying to drown herself? I ran as fast as I could, into the wind, past the line of palm trees, across the beach, straight into the storm. I didn’t stop until I reached the waves, kicked off my shoes, and ran in after her. “Gracie, stop!”

If she heard me, she didn’t turn around.

“Gracie!” I yelled again.

A wave tossed me about like a buoy, but I didn’t stop until I reached her. “What do you think you are doing?” I had to shout to be heard above the wind and the waves.

She stared at the horizon.

The water rose to my middle. I wasn’t sure if we were drifting out, or if the violent waves made the ocean swell. I grabbed her arm. “We need to get back to the shore.”

Gracie jerked away. “You lied.”

“I’m so sorry for missing the match. I was an idiot. I let you down. But Gracie, we need to get out of the water.” Not only was it dangerous; it was freezing.

She shook her head, like she wasn’t at all alarmed that the ocean had risen to our chests. “You’re no better than she is.”

I didn’t have to ask who she meant. I knew exactly who Gracie was talking about. I’d let her down just like our mother. But we couldn’t have this conversation now. The siren wailed and the wind roared. We needed to move to safety. Right now. “I know. I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you, but we can’t stay out here.”

“I screwed up the match. We lost because of me.”

Desperation rose along with the water. How could I get Gracie back to shore? “So you came out here to drown yourself?”

“No, I don’t want to drown myself. I want to baptize myself.”

“Baptize yourself?”

“I want to be a new person.” A wave knocked us about. “I don’t want to be me anymore.”

“Gracie, you can dunk yourself in this water until kingdom come. It won’t change anything.”

“So it’s hopeless, then?”

“I didn’t say that.” I grappled for a response. Anything that might get her moving. The wind was so fierce, I could barely hear myself think, let alone talk, and I swore the distance between us and the shore had grown, even though our feet had not moved. “I just mean we’re powerless to change ourselves. That’s something only God can do.”

I grabbed Gracie’s arm. If I had to drag her to shore, I would. But before I could take even a step, a wave crashed over us. It swept my feet out from under me. I clamped tighter onto Gracie and held my breath. Tried to break through to the air, but I didn’t even know which way was up, and by the time we surfaced, my lungs burned and the shore was much farther away than it ought to have been. Beside me, Gracie panicked. The kind of panic that threatened to pull us both under.

Her arms flailed. Her legs kicked.

It was exactly like my dream, only Gracie was me.

“I don’t know how to swim!” she screamed. “Help!”

Another wave crashed, pulling us under and flipping us about. We were going to die. Out in the sea—my sister and I were going to die. Fear like I’d never known gripped my entire body. I swam against the current with all my might. Gracie did everything she could to keep her head above water. But no matter how hard we fought our way to the shore, it grew more and more distant. Another wave crashed over us. I gulped for air. And as Gracie thrashed beside me, clawing her way through the water, I heard Earl’s voice.

“You’ll never escape a riptide by fighting against the current.”

The wave broke, and I held on to my sister with a grip that was not mine. “Gracie, we have to swim parallel with the shore!” I screamed, changing my course, pulling her along with me. No longer did I fight the current. I let it carry us out to sea while swimming sideways. The waves continued to crash. Salt water stung my lungs. I swam and swam until I could swim no more. My strength gave way. We weren’t going to make it. We were sinking. I wasn’t strong enough.

Help us, Lord. I can’t do it on my own!

Another wave swept past, but something in the current shifted. Changed. And all of a sudden, instead of pulling us out toward the horizon, the waves were carrying us inland. I focused every ounce of energy that remained on holding on to my sister’s arm, keeping my head above water. And somehow, someway, we reached the sand. I pulled Gracie onto the beach. Exhausted, exhilarated. Relieved.

“We made it. Gracie, we’re okay.”

Gracie did not respond. She lay on her back, eyes shut, lips blue. I shook her shoulder. Nothing. I shook her harder. No response. I bent my ear to her lips, but she was not breathing. I fumbled around for her pulse, but there was no pulse to be found.

No. No, no, no…

I spun around on my knees, but nobody was there and my phone was dead in my car. I shook Gracie again. She was as unresponsive as the plastic mannequins at Bay Breeze’s community center.

“If you ever find yourself in a CPR situation, I guarantee this, right here, is what you will recall.”

I placed the heel of my palm against Gracie’s sternum and began chest compressions. One, two, three, four, five. To the beat of “Staying Alive.” “Come on, Gracie, wake up!” Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…“Somebody help!”

One of Gracie’s ribs cracked, but I kept going. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. I tilted her chin back, plugged her nose, covered her lips with my mouth, and blew two breaths into her lungs. Her chest lifted, but she did not wake up.

Please, God…Please, God…

“Come on, Gracie. Wake up!”

My sister could not die. I could not watch her die, not when we finally made it to the shore. I started the chest compressions over. Another bone cracked. Gracie’s head lolled. Tears swam in my eyes. Wind blew in my face. I looked around, well past the point of frantic, and saw Ben racing toward us on the beach.

“Call 911!” I screamed at him.

I tilted her chin back again. Breathed once. Prepared to breathe twice, but astoundingly, miraculously, Gracie coughed. A stream of water gushed past her icy blue lips. She rolled onto her side and gulped for air. I wrapped my arms around her and I didn’t let go.

G
RACIE

My eyelids fluttered open to pristine white—white walls, white floors, white sheets. It was a color that contained an equal balance of every other color in the spectrum. One that signified wholeness and new beginnings. Why, then, did I feel like death? A groan pushed past my parched lips. Everything hurt. My muscles. My face. My arms and my legs. My tongue. My ribs.

Oh, my ribs
.

I groaned again, and someone gripped my hand.

It was Carmen. She sat by my bedside, her hair a tangled mess, looking every bit as horrendous as I felt. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’ve been better.”

She laughed a little.

I did too. But it made me grimace. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

I closed my eyes, bits and pieces of memory gathering together like a puzzle. Losing the match. Driving to The Treasure Chest. Walking out into the ocean. Carmen coming after me. Being carried out to sea. Crying out for help, thinking that we were surely going to die, and then nothing. “How did we make it back?”

“I’m still not entirely sure.” A shudder rippled through Carmen’s body. “I had to give you CPR. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

I blinked up at the ceiling, astounded that I was here. That I was alive.

“Gracie, I am really sorry that I missed the match. I know I let you down. There was this accident on the bridge.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t even matter. I should have—”

“I forgive you.” It came without effort. It came without hesitation. Because there was something else I remembered too. Carmen didn’t let go. Even when I was pulling her under the water with me, she didn’t let go.

She gave my hand a squeeze.

We sat for a while in the silence, neither of us speaking.

Carmen broke it first. “You have a visitor.”

“Who?”

“Eli’s been waiting outside with Ben. I think he’s pretty eager to see you.” She slid her hand away from mine. “I’ll go get him.”

“Wait.”

Carmen stopped in the doorway and set her hand on the door frame.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For holding on.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Always.”

We exchanged a smile, and a few minutes later, Elias rapped on the opened door. If I wasn’t so terribly sore, I might have pulled the pillow over my head. I must look awful. But he came to my bedside flashing his deep dimples, like he didn’t care how I looked at all.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

I rolled my eyes. Even that hurt.

“I was worried about you, so I called up Coach. Imagine my surprise when he said he was following an ambulance to the hospital. One with you in it.” He pulled up a seat and folded his arms on the edge of my bed. “Can you please tell me something?”

“I can try.”

“What were you thinking, going out into the ocean in the middle of a storm?”

“I’m not entirely sure I was thinking.”

Elias shook his head—partially baffled, partially amused. “Never a dull moment with you, is there, Fisher?”

“Haven’t you missed me?”

“Yes, actually. I have.” He took my hand, threaded my fingers with his.

My heart gave a
blip
. Poor thing was probably tired of blips by now.

“So what’s the deal—you ready to be friends again?”

“Friends, huh?” I ran my free hand over my bottom lip, which was dry and
cracked. “I don’t know. I might have to consult the Magic Eight Ball on that one.”

He chuckled.

It was a sound I’d missed. A sound that warmed my heart. I closed my eyes, feeling as though I could sleep for a year. And as I drifted off, with my hand in his, I thought once again about the question he asked in the parking lot of The Cross. The question I couldn’t answer on the beach before I waded into the ocean.

“Who do you say Jesus is, Gracie Fisher?”

I still wasn’t entirely sure, but I did know that if Carmen hadn’t found me when she did, I never would have made it back alive. And I did know that when I cried out for help, He didn’t let us drown.

I guess I could start there.

C
ARMEN

I drove out to The Treasure Chest with the radio playing a song by Tenth Avenue North. We brought Gracie home yesterday. This morning, Eli Banks came over with Funyuns and a movie
—Little Shop of Horrors
, of all things. I thought it was a little strange. Gracie seemed delighted. I still couldn’t believe she was alive. I couldn’t stop replaying the events of Thursday.

At what point did coincidence stop being coincidence and turn into something else altogether?

A few days before Christmas, I had an illogical urge to check The Treasure Chest’s sign. If I hadn’t had that urge, I wouldn’t have known that Gracie went to The Treasure Chest to be alone and I might not have been as quick to go there. Long before that, Aunt Ingrid had a Hearts kind of day. She talked about a nightmare she had, and Earl shared a random fact about escaping riptides. Natalie’s youngest son went to kindergarten this year. His sad mama wanted to occupy her days with in-home day care and I wanted my portfolio to look good. So we ended up taking a CPR training class. Years ago, that same mama started taking CrossFit classes and convinced me to exercise with her. It gave me a stamina and a strength that kept my head above the water.
Literally. And when we were sinking in the ocean, with no strength left and nobody around to hear, it wasn’t until I cried out for help that the current changed.

Coincidence?

Or evidence of a God who orchestrated even the most mundane details for our good? A God who never lifted His hand from my life. Not when I doubted. Not when I lost hope. Not even when I looked up into the heavens and told Him He didn’t exist. He was there, through it all. On that beach as I breathed life into Gracie’s lungs, He breathed life into mine.

I wasn’t sure it was something I would ever get over.

Tenth Avenue North melted into Matthew West. I pressed a little harder on the gas pedal and pulled my visor down. The sun was bright. The storm has passed. All across Bay Breeze, there were tree limbs down, even a power line or two. There had barely been any rain, but the winds had been hurricane force. I was anxious to see how The Chest fared at the end of it all.

Earlier this morning, Ben left to run errands. I hadn’t seen him since. But when I turned into the parking lot, it was not empty. His car was parked in one of the stalls. I pulled up beside it, turned off the ignition, and took in the damage with a growing sense of dismay. Chairs had blown every which way. Flowers and greenery had been ripped apart in the courtyard. The pool tarp had twisted its way around the trunk of a palm tree. Branches and shingles and broken bits of who knows what decorated the parking lot.

Ben stepped out of the front office with a garbage bag in hand and stopped when he saw me sitting behind the wheel of my car. I opened my door and joined him beneath the bright sun.

“I thought I’d get a head start on the cleanup,” he said, holding up the bag.

Tears pricked my eyes. “There’s a lot of damage.”

He closed the gap between us and took my hand. “We’ll fix it.”

“Hurricane season is coming.” I looked around at all the work that a simple storm had undone. “What if this keeps happening?”

“Then we’ll keep on fixing it.” Ben wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “However many times it takes. For however long it takes. We’ll fix it together.”

Then he said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the L
ORD
. Thus says the Lord G
OD
to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the L
ORD
.”

E
ZEKIEL
37:4–6