Corinne
-1-
“Iced coffee,” Hipster Girl orders.
It’s just my kind of drink. A simple and perfect way to end the evening rush.
Before I can turn around to pour her drink, Sev is at my back pushing the drink across the counter to Hipster Girl.
“You’re not going to ask me who the hell orders iced coffee in New England winter ?,” Sev asks me when Hipster Girl walks away.
“No, but who the fuck orders an unsweetened iced green tea in winter ?”
She shoves me playfully and I laugh.
I’d fucked up with her, but lucky for me Sev was forgiving and extremely sentimental.
According to Sev, she’d broken things off with Ethan because he moved too fast for her. Besides she was going back to Turkey next week for winter break and I think she knew she couldn’t count on him.
She’d allowed me a few minutes to do an I told you so, but I knew better. She’d been so great about Phillip when we were dating, always inviting him along and asking about him even though he showed no interest in her.
After I’d left the hospital, we’d settled onto her bed watching a Quentin Tarantino film fest, losing ourselves in the violence.
“You hurt me,” she’d told me as Uma Thurman shot a girl’s arm off. “We’re more than roommates. I kind of think of you as my best friend. Of all the things I wanted to do in college, that was in the top five.”
Best friend.
I’d never had one before. I’m not even sure what a best friend was. If
it meant a person who you could open a coffee shop up with at 6AM without
killing , a person who dragged you to participate in dorky things that turned out to
be fun, a person who forgive you with no conditions than a ‘we're cool’ and a Kill Bill marathon; I’d found my
best friend.
She said her parents would be willing to fly me out if I could pay for half the ticket, but again I declined this offer. I think one day I’ll go visit her and see where she grew up;I’ll see the turquoise water of the Mediterranean sea beaches, visit the beautiful mosques and hear her lilting Turkish with native speakers.
But for now I felt like I need to be here.
“Two hot chocolates,” someone orders. I turn to see Zain and Layla at the counter, both of them grinning.
“What’s with you two ?,” I ask.
“You know how they do that thing at orientation where they say look to your left and look to your right and one person won’t be at graduation ?,” Layla asks.
“Yeah…,” I say.
“Well, you know Andy McMays, that South African guy down the hall from you ?,” Zain says.
No.
“Well, he was sitting next to me at orientation and he dropped out yesterday.” Layla says. “It’s crazy, he’s moving out right now.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “Remind me to study tonight.,”
“Fuck,” Sev says, which is uncharacteristic of her. “Fuck.”
“What ?,” I said. “You’re a film major I’m sure you’re fine.”
“No, he was our alternate for the SEX competition next week, remember ?” she said. “This is what I get for not staying on top of everyone.”
I honestly didn’t remember, but I’d resolved to get to knowing the name of everyone else on Unnamed Team. And also possibly contribute to giving them a real name.
The three of them go through possible people who will still be around competition day. After about 15 minutes I see the perfect alternate walk in.
Jonah Morrow and Matthew Saylor come in. I've already worked out my apology for my outburst, but they don’t come to the counter. Instead of ordering they give Morris that stupid head nod. Jonah takes off his gray peacoat and underneath he's wearing dark jeans and a checkered button up.
Then he and Matt start moving the furniture. Tables are sliding across the floor to the corners and they’re both asking patrons if they wouldn’t mind moving with extra pleases and thank yous.
“Um, can they do that ?,” Layla asks us.
I have no idea. Sev and I just stare at them confused.
“What the hell are they doing ?,” I ask Morris.
He just shrugs with a shit eating grin as they roll in two amps, Matthew is setting up a keyboard piano .
“They know the Open Mic is this weekend, right ?” Sev asks, feeling like she’s finally figure it out.
Matthew tunes a violin with two quick strokes and then Jonah sits down behind the piano and plugs in a microphone. Once it screeches he taps it .
And looks right at me.
-2-
“Sorry for the interruption everyone,” Jonah says with a smile and the coffee shop chuckles. “Um, my name is Jonah Morrow , this is my friend Matthew Saylor…and um, there is something I need to do and I hope you all don’t mind indulging me.”
He’s a cute boy behind a piano, so of course no one seems to mind. He starts talking again.
“Um, earlier this semester I started writing this song and I couldn’t figure out what it was about. But then I realized it wasn’t about a thing… it’s about who. This song is for my new friend—Corinne. Who is behind the bar. I’ve just gotten to know her these past few weeks and she’s smart and funny and…a little bit brutal.”
Sev nudges me as if to agree with him. I’m a little bit scared of where this is going.
“Anyway, she is also new to Waverly and I want to make sure she feels welcome because, for the next four years anyway, this is her new home. And all of us, well, we’re her family.”
He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s looking through me and right at my heart.
“Corinne,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
There is some clapping, mainly from Layla and Zain and I mouth ‘what the fuck' and he half-smiles.
He looks down at the keys and starts playing a smooth progression on the keys. I’d never seen him play and he makes it look so natural. His mouth is in a straight line as he concentrates on the keys, I notice his leg is jiggling uncontrollably.
Flicking his eyes back up, Jonah brings his mouth to the microphone and starts singing.
His voice has a soft harshness and it’s a little out of pitch, but it’s perfect.
I’ve been a lot of places. I've been all around the world.
Seen a lot of faces. Never knowing where I was
On the horizon I know the sun will be rising back home.
He starts playing a complicated and fluid melody. Abigail had told me I should see him play and she was right. It’s like he’s transformed into someone different right in front of me.
If you ever feel alone–don't.
You were never on your own
And the proof is in this song
My heart is pumping so hard and I’m not angry. I don’t know what this feeling is.
Matt comes in with a violin and it’s so pure and light and give the song a softer pitch. And all at once it hits me; I love music and these two idiots wrote a song for me.
Don’t forget where you belong
and if you ever forget ….
the truth is in this song.”
When it’s over the entire café starts clapping. Jonah’s face is bright pink and he starts walking towards me, he hides his face with his forearms like I’m going to punch him, which if I wasn’t feeling so sappy I would.
I come out from behind the bar and I hug him, we’re practically the same height and my nose is buried in his hair. I pull away and bring Matt into a hug too. Then I’m on a fucking roll and hug Layla, Zain and even Sev. Then I hug Jonah again.
“Thank yo-” I start, but the power flickers for just
a second and a cool breeze rushes through the café, sweeping up my hair.
“Whoa, what the hell ?,” Morris says going to the circuit breaker.
Jonah turns, his arm still around me and we both notice there is now a stack of library books on his piano bench.
At the very top is Live or Die by Anne Sexton.
We don’t even have to say a word, we both bolt out of the café together. I vaguely hear Sev ask “why are they always doing that ?”
It would probably make more sense to take a car, but we don’t. We run. We take the 15 minute run, cutting across the yard and plazas until we get to the bridge.
Out of breath and leaning on each other for support we make it just in time.
She’s there, in her same spot.
Her pink coat and heels are gone, she’s just wearing a hospital gown and her feet are bare. She looks less solid then ever, like a real ghost.
“I’m going tonight” she says through a quivering lip. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m terrified.”
“It’s okay,” Jonah tells her. “It’s okay to do the things that scare you.”
“If this doesn’t work,” she says quietly. “It I don’t wake up and I ….if I just don’t see you ever again….thank you. Thank you.”
I suddenly understand her fears, she’s not afraid of living she’s afraid of dying all over again. I want to tell her never mind and call it off, but I can see the decision is already in her mind.
I give her a confident smile. She turns and taking a deep breath falls.
***
-3-
My old Converses are really getting a workout as we run back to The Thinking Cup to get Jonah’s car.
When we get into the Children’s Hospital parking lot it’s near 7PM, 30 minutes before visiting hours end, and the only car in the Visitor’s lot is a white Mercedes. The driver window is rolled down and Blythe Turner, the person who did this to Abigail, is sitting in the car with a diet Coke just watching the hospital doors.
“Are you fucking kidding me ?,” I say pointing her out to Jonah. “She lied about never seeing Abigail. How can the Winters let her anywhere near her after she nearly killed her ?,”
“Maybe they don’t let her. It doesn’t look like she’s going inside,” Jonah says.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
I walk towards Blythe’s car and when she sees me coming she gets out of the car, a pepper spray keychain gripped tight in her hand.
“Okay, who are you two?,” she demands. “Why do you keep showing up ? ”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “We didn’t put her in this hospital. You shouldn’t be allowed near her. You did that to her.”
I don’t know where this anger towards her is coming from. She’s just a rich bitch who would possibly get away with murder.
“Corinne--,” Jonah says, but Blythe interrupts
“Fuck you. I was sick!,” she screams at me and my blood boils. “God, explain this to me. Why do people get sympathy when every other organ in their body is damaged except their brain ?”
I can’t answer her questions, but I don’t care. It just doesn’t feel right.
“That doesn’t change anything. You being sick doesn’t make her come back. She had hopes and dreams and you took those away because of what you wanted. You could have killed yourself you didn’t have to take her.” I say. “If she dies in there that means you murdered her.”
“You think I don’t know that !,” she yells at me. “I’ve been hearing that since I got out. I loved her, you don’t think I feel guilty ? You don’t think I carry this around ? Yes, sometimes I get to ignore it but--”
Something comes over me and my hand is in a fist and
then it’s in the side of her pretty little face. It barely makes an impact. Jonah instantly jerks me back
from her and I let him.
“I’m so sorry--,” he starts groveling to her.
I should apologize for hitting her, but I can’t help how damn good that felt.
“No,” she says calmly. “No, I deserve that. I get it, okay ? The whole thing was expunged from record, I spent 9 months in a cushy mental hospital. I’m on a cheerleading scholarship at UMass…I get it. I got away with it. I moved on, my whole family did while Abigail’s lives with it everyday.”
“What are you even doing here ?,” I spit at her.
“I don’t know…I guess talking to you two about her…. I thought I’d wait in the parking lot and talk to Mrs. Winters when she came. As part of my treatment we had to make amends and I never made amends to her because I was too chickenshit. Now, do you want to punch me again ?,”
“Yes,” I say, but Jonah steps in front of me.
“You’re girlfriend is crazy,” she says turning her back
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says at the same time I say. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
Blythe just opens her car door and gets back inside. She pretends to go through her purse while Jonah and I head inside. We are immediately told Abigail’s visits have been put on hold, but they won’t tell us why.
“Do you have a final tonight ?,” I ask him as we sit in one of the chairs.
He shakes his head.
“Me either.”
We sit silently for 2 hours when Mrs. Winters and a mustached dark haired man who must be Abigail’s father run desperately through the waiting room. They don’t notice us and when I check the nurse informs us her visits are still restricted.
“Do you know if she is awake ?,” I ask the nurse.
The nurse just purses her lips.
“I’m sorry I can’t release patient information--”
“Is she dead ?,” I ask. “Is she dead ?”
She just shakes her head.
“I can’t say. I’m sure they’ll open visiting hours soon.”
At about midnight it becomes apparent Jonah and I will be spending the night here. Jonah calls his brother and tells him to stay at the house with their Dad. When he hangs up he looks at me soberly.
“I meant to tell you… I think I figured it out.” he said
“What ?,” I ask
“Why we could see Abigail. Why she came to us,” he says, he’s holding the ereader.
“Okay….,” I say warily.
“See…I read my Dad’s book and it was…eye opening.”
“More so than Thanksgiving ?,” I ask
“I think it was the ignition for Thanksgiving,” he says and opens to a page about the bridge “My Dad tried to jump off the bridge too.”
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “I…don’t know what to say,”
“I’ve come to terms with it,” he says. “ Anyway, I’ve been thinking about time ….my Dad was going to jump in the past, Abigail jumped in the present…and maybe you know someone who is going to jump in the future.”
“I don’t--,” I start, but I know. I know exactly who.
I only hope I can save Phillip in the same way Jonah’s parents saved themselves. I only hope I have.
Jonah reads me more from the book and somewhere between 3AM and 4AM we fall asleep together.
***
-4-
I wake up to the smell of coffee and to Jonah’s head on my shoulder.
Ms. Winters is sitting across from us and she is crying into her hands and hurriedly filling out forms. Her husband is outside making calls on his phone.
I bolt up and this wakes up Jonah up too.
“Mrs. Winters ?,” he asks and she looks up . Eyeliner has stained her skin.
I can’t breathe
“Oh, god.” I sigh. This was our fault.
We told her to go, we told her to die.
“She’s awake,” she breathes. “She’s awake. She woke up last night.”
I’ve only met this woman once in my life, but she gets up and we hug like we’ve known each other over lifetimes.
***
We don’t get to see her for 24 hours. Jonah and I travel the entire state of Massachusetts by car driving to 10 different floral shops to make the perfect arrangement.
When we return to the hospital were told she’s no longer in ICU and they've unhooked her from all the machines. We’re told we can go see her and given instructions about not causing stress. When the doctor opens the door for us I’m scared shitless.
We don’t really know what seeing her means.
She may not remember us, we may not know this girl at all.
She has a private room in a rehabilitation ward and her door is closed. We exchange a glance before Jonah knocks and pushes the door open.
She’s sitting up in bed.
And she’s awake.
Her eyes widen with acknowledgement and surprise when she sees the extra large bouquet of brown paper wrapped tulips cradled in Jonah’s arms.
She opens her arm and we both gently attack her in a hug.
“Thank you,” she cries. “Thank you.”
----
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas,
