We Were One_Looking Glass

  “No!” I cried out as my throat began to constrict, and it got harder to breathe suddenly. “God, no!”

  My brothers held me up from going down any further. I could see their panic-stricken faces saying stuff to me, but I couldn’t hear anything. There was no sound anymore. I couldn’t even hear my own voice, but I knew I was crying out louder than I ever had because my throat was on fire now. I couldn’t breathe, and I clutched my chest, still trying to cry out in spite of it all.

  I was surrounded by paramedics suddenly and other unfamiliar faces saying stuff I couldn’t hear either. But I struggled to fight them too until, like the sound, all my other senses gave out and everything went white.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 14: First year without her

  What we knew about the accident at the very beginning was that somehow Madeline lost control of the car and it flew off the side of the embankment. They’d had the car’s convertible top down, and all three were ejected from the car as it rolled over several times. It’d been confirmed the fourth person hadn’t been a passenger in the car with them, so I knew, if there was the slightest hope the newscaster had it wrong and Madeline hadn’t already been gone, she would be soon.

  Then I got the call from Loretta that confirmed my worst nightmare. My peanut was gone. She and Shelby had been pronounced dead at the scene while Maggie had been flown to the trauma center in Livingston. Only time anyone was transported there was when their injuries were as critical as Maggie’s apparently were.

  I fell apart all over again, just as I did every time I woke from my drug-induced slumber—the only slumber I could get during those first agonizing days and weeks that followed her death.

  I knew I had a family that loved me and were beyond concerned about me, but I just couldn’t find a reason to go on. Madeline was my everything. I lived and breathed for my peanut, and now she was gone. Words couldn’t even begin to describe the agony I was living in now. Every minute of every excruciating day the same four words overwhelmed my mind.

  This was no life.

  I didn’t even make the double wake they held for Madeline and Shelby. I was told the whole damn town and then some, because of the media coverage the accident had gotten, were there. I was told that, just as Loretta had at the scene of the accident when she first arrived that horrid day, she passed out at the wake. She was the fourth victim at the scene that day—the one that was taken by ambulance after going into shock.

  Loretta had later explained to me that, when she’d called me that day, she was already out looking for them. She knew the areas they frequented, and so she’d been the first to arrive at the horrific scene and witnessed the gruesomeness of it all on her own. She called 911, and by the time they arrived, she’d gone into shock and had to be treated herself. Loretta didn’t even know Maggie had survived until she herself was released from the hospital. Loretta practically lived at the trauma center now where Maggie was still in a coma.

  The days after the accident, when several vigils were held for Madeline and Shelby, I lay in bed, almost comatose myself. There was no way I could attend if I couldn’t even get myself out of bed. I attempted to attend the burial services with my family, but when I saw the hearse, I lost it. Not even when my mother had died had I felt such unbearable pain. I’d heard people could die from emotional pain alone if it was excruciating enough, so it made me wonder why I wasn’t dead yet.

  Weeks after the accident they were still investigating what really happened as if it mattered. Worst thing about it was they’d begun to try and investigate the possibility that there might’ve been another car involved. But when they got the results of Madeline’s blood tests, they called it off. Traces of marijuana were found in her blood, and the media had a field day, causing a divide in the small community. Or so I heard. I couldn’t stomach reading any of the many articles about the horrific accident that the people of Huntsville still couldn’t stop sharing on social media. But Nolan had gotten heated a few times after arguing with trolls blaming the girls for their own demise.

  It was pure bullshit. Traces of the stuff meant nothing. Had she been smoking that day it would’ve been a hell of a lot more than traces. And I knew better than anyone she wouldn’t have been smoking because I wasn’t with her. My peanut never broke our rule. She wouldn’t even drink a beer if I wasn’t with her, and when I’d spoken to her earlier that day, she’d sounded fine. While weed never made her crazy in any way, I knew her better than anyone. I would’ve known just by the tone of her voice if she was even slightly high.

  The trauma center where Maggie was still clinging to life was almost an hour away. Nolan and I drove out there a couple of times, but she was in the ICU where only family was allowed in, so my cowardly ass was actually grateful not to be able to see her.

  I got the feeling that Nolan was holding back his own pain and suffering over Maggie being so critically injured because of me. At least she was still alive, and while there was little hope she’d make it through this, his feelings for her didn’t even compare to mine for Madeline. I also got the feeling that he, too, was relieved not to be able to see her in the ICU.

  From what we’d read and heard about directly from Loretta, Maggie’s injuries were extensive, to the point in the first few weeks she was almost unrecognizable. Had it been Madeline, I would’ve begged to be able to see her. Then I would’ve spent every waking moment by her side, begging her to come back to me. But I saw it in my young brother’s eyes. He was afraid to see her that way. He wasn’t ready or willing to handle the enormity of all this grief.

  I saw my own pain in Loretta’s eyes. She’d just lost her mother a few months prior, and now she’d lost a daughter, and there was little hope her other daughter would ever come out of her coma.

  We cried in each other’s arms both times I’d gone to visit Maggie. We spoke a little about the investigation, and I assured her Madeline hadn’t been smoking that day. Loretta never said it, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes, even as I adamantly assured her of it. I had to wonder if she was questioning whether my being a part of Madeline’s life had anything to do with her untimely death. Maybe if Madeline had never gotten involved with me and ultimately smoked pot she’d still be here. But each time she was as cordial as she’d been in the past several months before Maddie’s death. Still, I couldn’t help feeling the inevitable guilt each time I drove out and looked into Loretta’s tired and lifeless eyes.

  I chalked it up to her grief. I’d never be the same person I was before Maddie died. How could I expect Loretta to be? She, too, was likely having the same feelings I was of wanting to just die and be put out of my misery, and the same feelings of aloneness because no one could possibly understand the pain we were both going through. Yet, she had to be strong for her other daughter. I’d begun to wonder how she could stand to just sit there in a room, staring at her comatose daughter all day. Then I realized I was basically living the same life, just not in a hospital. There were days I could barely bring myself to get out of bed, let alone leave my room. She probably did the same things I was doing: sat for hours, feeling sorry for herself.

  The whole feel of the hospital was so depressing. Because of that, coupled with the fact that I couldn’t shake the feeling that Loretta somehow blamed me for this tragedy, both Nolan and I stopped going. We couldn’t see Maggie anyway, and we only walked away feeling even more depressed.

  I opted to call or text Loretta instead to get updates on Maggie. They were always the same. She was still comatose. She’d taken such a bad hit to the head doctors feared, even if she did come out of the coma, she’d never be the same again. From what Loretta had explained, Maggie’s brain had been so swollen they’d had to drain the excess fluid more than once. Despite my hope that Maggie would pull through, a part of me hated to think I may see her again and she’d be severely handicapped. They still didn’t know what other parts of her body would be permanently affected. She could have been paralyzed for all they knew.


  Just like when I stopped going to church after my mother died, I was even more pissed at God—at the world—for taking my peanut. It was so fucking unfair. For weeks and weeks, I walked around numb. I hardly said a word and only rarely stepped foot into the shop, the place where Maddie and I were supposed to have lived out our dream. It was all for naught now. I didn’t give a fuck about the shop, my future, or my life for that matter.

  I stopped using my phone since I hardly went anywhere. I could easily be located on our home’s landline or even the shop’s. I just couldn’t bear to see the image of us on the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove it either. So when I’d take long rides, it’d have my family worried sick when I’d finally ride into our driveway late in the evening. A few months after her death, and after a particularly long ride where I didn’t make it home until almost four in the morning, my family held an intervention for me. They were worried sick, and rightfully so, that I might take my own life. The thought crossed my mind often. I could ride my bike off a cliff and land in Madeline’s loving arms. I had visuals of her giddy smile greeting me the way she always did. I just didn’t see the point to living anymore—not without my peanut.

  My red-rimmed-eyed father met me at the door that morning I arrived back from my ride and hugged me. He held me for a long time until he pulled away and shook me as he looked me in the eyes. “Do you wanna kill me?” he yelled. “Is that what you want?”

  It startled me momentarily until I broke down and cried like a baby in his arms. “I feel dead, Dad. I don’t know how I’ll ever be whole again. She took a part of me with her, and I know I’ll never get it back.”

  “You will,” he whispered, rubbing my back.

  “No, I won’t,” I insisted through my tears. “No one and nothing will ever replace her in my heart. Ever.”

  My father continued to rub my back even as he dismissed my brothers and Ama, who were standing in the front room and had witnessed it all. “Leave us alone for a little bit.”

  Ama wiped tears away as Xavier wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and they walked into the hallway behind Nolan and Quino. I hated what I was putting my family through, but even that had me questioning my unnecessary existence. I’d never be happy again, and I’d be putting them through hell in the process. “Sit down,” Dad said, motioning me to the sofa.

  I did, grabbing one of the sofa pillows and wiping my face with it. “How’d you do it, Dad?” I asked, feeling so weak next to him as the tears continued to flow without hope of ever stopping. “How’d you get over mom’s death?”

  “I didn’t, Hijo,” he said, reaching out and squeezing my knee. “You never get over it, and the sooner you can accept that, the sooner you’ll start to get through this.” I shook my head at the impossibility of it, but he went on. “Understand this, Nico. You will be whole again; you’ll just never be the same again. But that’s okay because you’re not supposed to be. She’s gone, so things aren’t the same anymore, and they never will be. And I know you feel like there’s no reason to live anymore, but there is. I promise you. You’re twenty-one. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  The only reason I didn’t shake my head adamantly and argue was because this was my father. He should’ve been part of the reason why I needed to move on. “It’s okay to grieve, Hijo. You should. Take all the time you need. I lost your mama and felt those deep, deep feelings of despair too, but I won’t sit here and say I know what you’re going through. This is your grief. No two people are the same, and so no two people will grieve the same way. It may take you months, years, to heal. All I can promise you is, in the end, it will happen. Trust me. I know.” He took a deep breath and sat back. “When your mama passed, I, too, had moments of feeling like I just wanted to die. Mind you I had four little boys who were counting on me to be there for them and those thoughts still crossed my mind. Don’t let those feelings make you feel weak. They’re perfectly normal. Accept them; just please don’t act on them. They will pass, and little by little the memories will be what you’ll live for.” He hugged me, and I cried some more against his shoulder. “Stop waiting to get over it, Nico, and don’t ever expect to be able to replace her. It’s not gonna happen. But you will learn to live with it.”

  With that, he called my brothers and Ama back into the room, and the intervention began. One by one my brothers told me how much they loved me, how worried they’d been about me, and how from then on, until they felt comfortable, one of them would be with me at all times.

  “You can shit alone,” Quino added quickly. “But no more of these sleepless nights wondering where your ass is and if you’ll be getting home okay.”

  “We get that you’re hurting,” Xavier added. “And we’re not telling you to snap out of it. All we’re saying is, for our own sanity, someone will always be on Nico duty from here on.”

  Nolan shrugged. “Xavier’s up first since you two sleep in the same room and we’re all tired as fuck. But I’m on deck for tomorrow.”

  Ama walked over and cradled my face in her hands, which only made me want to fall apart again. Powerless to hold it in, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hid my face against her. “Mijito,” she said in a broken voice. “Life will go on. I’ve lived through many heartbreaking deaths in my lifetime. You never get over them, but life has a silly way of continuing to push onward.” I hugged her even tighter, trying to get my shit together as she caressed my head gently. “Cry, cry, cry, Mijito. Let it all out for as long as you need to. Never hold it in. The tears and heartache will always be there, but soon they’ll be less and less often. I promise you this, corazon.”

  Despite everything they said, the agonizing despair didn’t let up even as the months continued to pass. Everything in and around town reminded me of her. The theater where we first kissed, I didn’t dare ever step foot in that place again. It was the same thing with the pier, our cave, the haunted barn, Pike’s Crest, and the Little Caesars where she’d worked. All had me choking up anytime I saw them, but those were at least avoidable.

  So many other things weren’t so avoidable: the lake and entire fucking river. It seriously had me considering moving out of town. When I mentioned this to Xavier, he suggested I try seeing a therapist. At first, I balked at the idea, but as the time passed and I was still being hit with fits of agonizing pain so bad there were times I could barely catch my breath, I decided I needed help and I started therapy.

  As the time passed and the stories were still ongoing about Madeline having been under the influence, my contact with Loretta had begun to taper off. She was hardly ever in town anymore since she practically lived at the hospital. Then one rare day almost a year after the accident, as I was trudging along at the shop trying to do my work, a young blond girl with a big smile walked into the shop.

  “How can I help you?” I asked, swallowing hard because even this brought on thoughts of Madeline.

  “Hello.” She smiled big and bright. “I’m Sasha from the Huntsville Chronicle. Are you Nicolas Cortez?”

  Instantly, I was frowning. They’d tried numerous times already to contact me regarding the allegations about Madeline having smoked weed and wanted to get my thoughts on it. Each time I told them to go to hell. It didn’t matter how sweet and friendly this girl seemed. I was ready to give her a mouthful if she went there again.

  “Yeah, but I have no comment about that accident if that’s why you’re here.”

  “Actually no,” she said, still smiling brightly. “I’ve been trying to track Ms. Hellman down to get a follow-up story about her daughter. Do you happen to have her contact info? Her old one is no longer valid, and it appears she’s moved.”

  I nodded with understanding now. “She hasn’t,” I informed her. “She’s just hardly ever home since she spends most of her time in Livingston at the trauma center.”

  “But Margaret’s been released,” she said as she shook her head in confusion. “We got word she was released over a week ago. It’s why we wanted to interview t
hem to see how she’s doing now.”

  Stopping mid-count of the inventory I’d been going through, I stared at her for a moment then glanced at Nolan, who was now behind the counter with me and heard that last part. “Maggie’s out of the hospital?”

  He looked as surprised to hear this as I was before responding. “I had no idea.”

  “You sure about that?” I asked Sasha.

  “Yes, you can call the hospital yourself if you want to confirm. All they can tell me is she’s no longer in the hospital’s care but couldn’t give me any details of what condition she was in when she was released.”

  “And they’re not living at their house anymore?” Nolan asked as he pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen.

  “No, I was finally able to get a hold of the owner of the house they rented, and he also confirmed she’d moved out weeks ago. All he said Ms. Hellman told him was that she’d taken a job in Connecticut, but the only contact info he had for her was the same as I had.”

  “Maggie’s number isn’t valid anymore either.” Nolan said, tapping his phone and putting it back in his pocket.

  “Connecticut?” I asked, still not sure this chick had her facts straight.

  Madeline had never mentioned any family in Connecticut. And the school Maggie was to attend was less than two hours away. From what Madeline had explained, Maggie’s scholarships had been funded directly to that school. A job in Connecticut? Of course, Maggie’s condition could have a lot to do with why they’d moved there. Maybe there was some kind of special rehabilitation hospital there specific to whatever injuries she might still be dealing with.

  I tried calling Loretta, despite Sasha saying she’d already tried and gotten a disconnect message. Scrolling way down my text log because our communication had dwindled down to texts since talking to her had become too uncomfortable, I found our last exchange and checked the date. It was almost two months prior. I hadn’t even realized it’d been that long. But then I had been doing my best not to fall back into that dark depression, and talking to Loretta inevitably sparked countless memories of Madeline.