The Regrets I'm Left With

I look at her and I feel stupid. Her skin is pale. It’s so, so pale. Her lips are too. They’re not the usual rosy pink, and they’re not covered by a layer of Strawberry Dream Lipstick. Her lips are cracked and tremble slightly. I wonder what she’s dreaming about. I wonder if she remembers what I did to her.

I gaze at her frail body, the parts of her skin I can see are riddled with bruises and I know she’s going to have scars, so many scars, if she ever wakes up. There’s a cast on her leg, on her arm. One of her legs is elevated. There’s a neck brace supporting her head.

I chew on my lip nervously. The constant beeping of her heart is the only sound in the quiet room. No one’s here. It’s just me while her parents fly back from New York. They were at a meeting and couldn’t rush here the moment they heard thanks to flight issues, and I’m kind of glad. I don’t want to see her parents’ faces when they see their beloved daughter. I don’t want to see the pain in their eyes or the repressed anger on their faces when they see me.

They know that if the beeps suddenly falter, suddenly stop, it’s my fault.

****

The roaring engine was cacophonous in my ears. I wanted to laugh, but every time my foot pressed down, the car sped forward and I was jerked back in my seat, the laugh caught in my throat. I slowed down a bit as the road winded slightly and turned to Mia in the seat next to me. Her smile was wider than I’d ever seen it, laughs and whoops spilling from it, and despite the fact I knew it was partly fuelled by the beer bottle dangling from her hand, I was happy that she was happy.

****

Back at the party we came from, Mia had confessed that she hadn’t been accepted into her dream college. Ever since we were little, she’d been dead set on getting into a college in New York. New York was her dream place to live, and attending college there was basically the one thing in life she wanted most. And now it was ripped away from her.

“Oh my God, Mia,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

Mia pulled away from me, a lazy, drunken smile teasing her lips. “It’s whatever.” Her head tips back and she swallows more beer before staring at me again with an exaggerated look of worry on her face. “It’s my parents I’m worried about,” she whispers very loudly. “They’re gonna think I’m a failure.” Her face crumples and my heart aches for her. Her parents were supportive. Maybe too supportive. They always expected so, so much from her when Mia was so, so little.

I didn’t like seeing Mia sad. I didn’t want her to be surrounded by all the others, who were celebrating their college admissions. I was going to the local community college. I didn’t want to leave my mother behind, and I needed to support her and my brother.

“Come,” I said, pulling her toward the car by my hand. “We’re leaving.” I didn’t have much to drink. Well, I had some, and I was slightly slurring my words, slightly clumsy as I settled behind the steering wheel, but the party was in a desolate place and the only way out was a long, long road that was covered by trees and greenery. It was generally straight, except for the one part, and I figured the turns there would just be extra fun.

So, it seemed like a good idea then. I thought I was doing a good thing, by getting her out of there. I wasn’t thinking straight. I made the mistake, and now Mia’s paying the price.

****

After a quick nap at home, I’m back at the hospital. The nurse comes in sometimes, and glances over at me. Her eyes drift to my own hand, bandaged, and the few scrapes on my limbs and my forehead, and her gaze turns sympathetic. I ignore it and pretend to be interested in the room we’re in instead. It’s plain. The walls are white, the ceiling’s white, the floor is white. The bed is blue and in the centre of the front of the room. I’m in the dark armchair beside it, and there’s a TV on the wall in front, but I don’t want to watch anything. I don’t deserve the sympathy the nurse offers me. I was the one being stupid. I don’t understand how Mia was the one with all the injuries, the one that’s in a coma she may never wake from, and I’m sitting here, fully functional with a few scrapes. It isn’t fair.

I think God is making me pay for my stupidness. See here, this is what happens when you act irresponsibly. Mia not waking up will be your fault. Maybe it’s a lesson. To make sure I never do something so reckless again. But what’s the point in that? I’d be scared into never getting behind a wheel again by a simple car crash that didn’t result in all this.

“Mia!” The door to the room flies open and suddenly Mr and Mrs Walters are rushing in. They don’t see me, instead running straight for Mia in the bed. Mr Walters cradles what bit of her head he can in her arms and Mrs Walters gazes at her, terrified. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to see your heart and most loved one in a hospital bed in front of you, unsure of whether they’ll survive or not. This may be one of the last times they look at their child, and I hate that it’s my fault.

Mr Walters looks up from Mia and meets my gaze. I want to look away, but I can see the fear, the hurt, reflected in his eyes. They’re filled with heartbreak, and I know that if it was my mother in that bed, I would hurt so much my heart would throb, and I hate that its my fault they’re going through that instead of me.

“What happened?” Mr Walter asks softly.

****

My foot pressed down even harder on the gas and the car lurched forward with another thrum. Mia’s whoops from beside me urged me on. I just wanted to hear her laugh. She meant the world to me. Her friendship was what got me through my parents’ divorce. She was my constant as my world crashed. I wanted to be her constant, now.

“Who needs stupid New York anyway?” she demanded the sky, screaming out the window. “Go faster!”

And though I knew it was wrong, though I knew we were already going too fast, and that a sudden turn could tip the car right over, I complied, forcing a cheer through my lips as I did.

Mia reached over and pressed the bottle to my lips. “Just a sip, Kylie!” she said.

We both giggled as I tipped my head back and struggled to drink it. Some of it ran down my neck and it was cold. My head was still back when Mia went silent for a moment. Then there was a gasp.

“Kylie!”

I looked back at the road and saw the turn. The tree right in front. Panic gripped my muscles, and I fought it off a second too late. My hands twisted the steering wheel a moment too late, and the car was spinning wildly. We were going too fast. Way too fast. The car spun on Mia’s side as I tried regaining control, but suddenly we were flying straight into the solid tree, Mia’s side first and her screams were cut off.  

****

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I called an ambulance. I tried to get to her. I really did. I tried pulling her out but she was unconscious and my arm was bleeding my hands were red and slippery and I just… I couldn’t pull her through.” A sob escapes my lips as I finish, and I try to swallow the rest but there are tears racing down my cheeks now. Angrily, I wipe them off but they keep coming and I just crumple in the chair, my head hiding in my knees. I feel so stupid. I regret so much. I wish I could redo the past two days, and think straight this time. I wish I didn’t drink the beer. I wish we stayed at the party. I wish anything but this happened. I wish it was me in the bed instead of Mia. Yes, we were both reckless, but I was the one who thought it was a good idea to go driving drunk.

There’s a warm hand on my shoulder and out of the corner of my eye, I see Mrs Walters. Her arms are heavy around my shoulder as she hugs me close. She’s sobbing too. And Mr Walters, his arm around his wife, shaking his head and crying too.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers to me. “You’re teenagers. We all make mistakes. Some mistakes are just bigger than others.”

I’m confused when I hear this. It’s her child in the hospital bed, and she’s hugging the person that put her there. Why is she comforting me? She should be telling me it’s my fault. That if the machine flatlines it’s because I was irresponsible and didn’t think straight. That I should’ve done more to try pull her out before the ambulance came. That I should’ve pulled harder or called someone from the party since they were closer. All things that I was too drunk, too terrified to do.

“I’m sorry,” is all I manage to say back. I reach out timidly and hug her closer to me. “This is all my fault. I just didn’t want her to feel so bad about not getting in.”

“And that’s our fault. We put too much pressure on her. If we hadn’t, she wouldn’t have worried about disappointing us. You wouldn’t have wanted her to feel better and she wouldn’t be in that bed.”

I guess we’re all regretting things now. Wondering how we could have avoided this. If they had been less eager, Mia would have been less stressed. If I hadn’t gone for that sip, I probably would have made the turn. If I hadn’t had so much to drink, I would’ve had more control over my mind and my actions. But I guess it doesn’t matter. What happened, happened, and now Mia’s stuck in a hospital bed with an uncertain future and the rest of us are stuck wondering if everything would be fine if we had thought a little more.

A moment too late, I realised I had made a mistake, but realising a moment too late was pointless, since everything had happened already, and I couldn’t change it. All I had now was regrets.