Chapter 10 Ella

Chapter 10

Ella

I think I hear…Christmas music.

Johnny Mathis.

He's crooning about snow and mistletoe, and for a moment I'm stolen by a childhood reverie—a warm haven of nostalgia, snickerdoodle cookies, and those little pine tree air fresheners for the car. My parents would never purchase a real tree because Jonah was allergic to pine needles. So, I'd improvise. I'd gather my allowance, ride my bike to the grocery store, and collect a respectable number of my favorite spruce-scented air fresheners. When I got home, I'd decorate the tree with them, dangling the strings from the plastic needles and inhaling the musty aroma of artificial pine.

Close enough.

Johnny Mathis used to serenade us throughout the month of December. Mom loved to play this shoddy, old VHS tape of Johnny aimlessly strolling through holiday backdrops with people in mortifying nineties Christmas sweaters. It was some kind of seasonal special that aired and it was beyond hokey, but she loved it. We loved it because Mom loved it, and…well, years later, I guess I love it, too. It reminds me of a happier time, sweet moments trapped inside of a magical snow globe.

My head starts to throb.

There's a roaring in my ears, chasing away the memories. Images of sitting by the fireplace with Mom's homemade Chex Mix and Jonah's chocolate-covered marshmallows are replaced with a burning in my lungs. My chest hurts. And it's not the usual ache of sadness this time. It's a physical fullness, a heaviness. Hot pressure strangles my ribs and climbs up my lungs. Johnny Mathis' effortless vibrato is drowned out and all of my senses soon follow.

My eyes fly open.

I lurch.

I heave.

I retch.

I breathe.

Water spurts out of my mouth with the violence of an angry tempest as I lift up off the dock and roll onto my side, my fingertips clawing the wooden planks, my throat on fire.

I think I almost drowned.

I think I wanted to.

I think I meant to.

Out of all the things to feel right now, I feel embarrassed. Someone is here with me. Someone saw me at my worst rock-bottom moment and plucked me off of the lake's floor.

Not just someone.

Max.

I slump onto my back as the memory of him watching me drift away in the deep water with a soul-wrenching look in his eyes seeps into my psyche. My lids flutter open as my head pounds and my lungs continue to work overtime. I don't know what to say.

He's a blur above me, a glowy haze.

God , I was so stupid…so reckless.

I should thank him. Apologize.

But he bends down before I can choke out words, his lips against my ear. "Hey, Sunny."

Emotion rushes through me. Tears sting my eyes. I almost died, but I don't think I actually want to die. Not now, not yet. I'm not ready for such frightening permanence. I need to change my life; I need a second chance to be better. Do better. I have to—

"Stay."

Max hovers over me, sweeping back my dripping wet hair and brushing his thumb against my forehead as my breaths finally begin to placate.

Stay , he says.

Just a single word.

I feel it more than I hear it.

A calming light infiltrates the black cloud swallowing my soul. The roaring in my ears dulls to a peaceful hum until Johnny Mathis is a distant echo once again, reminding me I'm still alive. There are more Christmases to be had.

I fade out, but I'm not gone.

I slip away…

But I'm still here.

***

He carries me the whole way home.

Two miles.

One arm linked underneath my knees, the other cradled around my back, and my sopping orange bookbag dangling off one shoulder.

His breathing is labored, his footsteps heavy as they crunch along rocks and dirt. Cars zoom by. Streetlights glimmer. My eyelids flutter, exhaustion stealing me away.

He's warm and I'm cold.

He smells like lake water and earth and pine.

Max squeezes me a little tighter as I press my temple to his shoulder and close my eyes.

He holds me.

I let him.