Except I didn't feel like a sister.
I felt like an interloper. A fraud. And something else. The something else was complicated – wrapped up in guilt for not getting help sooner and tinged with something I didn't want to think about. Curiosity? Concern?
I imagined his face, free of bruises, blood and bandages. I still had no idea what he actually looked like. I hadn't seen him. Not really. But I wanted to. And that's when I identified that mysterious something.
Longing.
Here was a guy who laughed – literally laughed – after getting beat almost to death and dumped onto the sidewalk. Some days, I had a hard time laughing at all. But I needed to. If not for me, then definitely for my younger brother. He deserved that.
Sure, my mom wasn't around much, and my dad was dating someone who hated kids. Well,hiskids anyway. But we were doing alright. At least compared to this guy.
When he woke up, all hell would break loose. The name I'd given wasn't real, and neither was the address. If I wasn't gone by the time he woke up, I'd be in some serious trouble.
Until that point, I watched him as he lay there, heavily bandaged, and even more heavily sedated. I talked to him in whispers, relaying every silly thing I could think of. Stories about my Polish grandmother, cartoons I'd read in the paper, ridiculous things my little brother liked to say.
If this guy were awake, he'd be bored out of his mind. But for now, he was John Livingston of Maple Drive, and he was utterly fascinated with everything I said.
And I kept my promise. Except for some made-up history, I told them nothing. Insurance? No idea. Medical history, didn't know. If nothing else, these things at least were the absolute truth.
Some sister I was.
I'd fallen asleep in the chair next to his bed when my cell phone buzzed. I answered with a hushed hello.
"You still at the hospital?" It was Erika.
"Yeah, why?"
"A heads-up," she said. "My parents are there looking for you."
"Really? Why?"
"My guess? They're heading on that cruise tomorrow. And they want to thank you before they leave."
"Thank me? For what?"
She laughed. "For saving their beloved daughter's life, of course."
"Oh shut up," I said. "I just gave you a ride." And I would have given her a ride home too, if her latest boyfriend hadn't shown up to reclaim that honor.
"Yeah. Just kidding," she said. "Actually, they want to give you a birthday present. You know, the big eighteen."
Neither one of us mentioned what my parents had gotten Erika. Nothing. But she couldn’t feel too bad. They hadn't gotten me anything either. "Awww…they didn't have to do that," I said.
"Yeah, well you know how they are."
I did. They were amazing, slightly overprotective and maybe a little extravagant, but one-hundred percent wonderful. If I didn't love Erika like a sister, I might've been consumed by jealousy. When it came to parents, she won the jackpot. Me? I got the booby prize. Two of them, actually.
"Anyway," Erika said, "They're at the hospital now."
"Really? They're here?" I felt myself stiffen. "What'd you tell them?"
"About your mystery man?" she said. "Nothing. I just mentioned you were visiting a friend."
"Well, he might be a mystery man," I said, "but he's definitely not mine."
"Whatever. I'm just mad that your story's more interesting than mine is."
I rolled my eyes. "You don't think totaling a Porsche is interesting?"
