What happens when you can't even recognize your own parents, but you're able to identify the most notorious playboy in school? //
Asher Thomas lives in a world where she isn't able to recognize people's faces, including those of her parents and even...
I saw her try to swim back. I saw her go under the waves.
I pulled her out. I was never very far. Despite what she said, I'm not thoughtless. Obviously, Asher is going through something, and just like she was there for me, I must be there for her.
Still, her words stung. They reopened old wounds, and dumped in a pound of salt. I had had my doubts about whether I was a good presence around her, but I became a glutton. I decided that I was happy with her, and that she must be at least a little content around me, since she hadn't pushed me away. Now, it seems that the fire has eaten up the rope, and the bomb has combusted.
I carry Asher to shore, limp in my arms. Her lips are blue. Immediately, Chloe and the boys race towards me, where I have lain Asher on damp sand, since the rest of the turf is blazing hot. She looks serene, as if she's sleeping, but I know better. Her skin is becoming paler by the second.
I tighten my hands together, then begin pumping on her sternum. Her body jumps beneath me, and I resist the urge to lessen the pressure. I can hear the ping of buttons as Chris dials 911. Chloe is crouched beside Asher's head, stroking her hair. Her shoulders are trembling.
After a few compressions, I lean down and pry open Asher's cold lips. I force my own air down her still lungs. Another two blows, I'm pumping at her chest again. Chloe lets out a strangled sound, and she looks as if she's going to start crying. Her knuckles are white, clenching Asher's shoulder. I can hear her slews of please please please, and then my lips on hers again. Asher convulses under my touch, and I sit back, watching as she turns and coughs out mouthfuls of water. Chloe rubs her back as Asher struggles to regain her breath. My fingers move at their own accord – they're pushing back her brown locks as she crouches over the sand. Asher's shoulders quake as she vomits up sea water and saliva, her chest gasping. Winded, Asher flips onto her back again. Her chest still moves rapidly, but she's regained her breath.
"Had quite a scare there, didn't you?" I keep my tone amused, but inside, I'm shaking. At the time, dragging her back to the shore, I had one thing on my mind. I was remembering my CPR training from two years ago, and I was imagining my locked shoulders, and I was imagining Asher coming back to life. In those few seconds, there was no room for fear. Now, I realize it was eating me alive the entire time.
"I'm going to get mono," Asher says, her voice weak. She tries to sit up, but Chloe gently pushes her down again. Chloe's eyes are wet.
"Aaron's probably got a boat load of STD's." Asher lets loose a couple coughs before smirking at me, though it's faint. I roll my eyes, letting out a cough. "You almost drowned. Save the snark for a little later, please."
We stay like that, Chloe and I sitting by Asher while she regains her strength. Chris has notified the 911 staff that everything is fine, and is looking through Chloe's phone. "Getting her dad's number," is all he says. Then he taps a few buttons and walks off so Asher cannot hear the edge in his voice.
Asher shifts, turning to Chloe. Up close, her eyelashes stretch for miles. "Hey, can I talk to Aaron for a little bit?"
Chloe's grip tightens around Asher's hair. "You can barely even talk," she mutters, but stands up anyway, strutting off to Chris.
The waves are quiet as I turn back to Asher, who seems to have her own oceans in her eyes. She says, "You know, I almost died because I'm a proud little brat."
I let out a startled laugh. Hearing her say the word 'die' almost makes it seem real – I still can't seem to fathom the idea of a lifeless, cold Asher, breathless lungs, with no more snide remarks. That's a world that I'm happy I do not live in.
"Care to explain?" I prompt. My voice is shaky, but I strengthen it with cheap tape, so it's warbled and weird, but I need to talk, or she'll freak. I find my fingers rubbing agitated circles on her shoulder, and for once, she doesn't seem to mind.
Asher chews her bottom lip, looking down. One of my shins is laying flush against her arm, while the other is propped up behind her head. A cage. A cocoon. I'm not sure.
"I didn't know how much I meant to you," she finally says. She looks up at me, squinting. A tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I'm sorry, her eyes say.
"My plan was to ignore you and scare you away, and see if you still cared afterwards." She lets out a laugh, slowly regaining her voice and breath. "It's beyond stupid, you don't have to tell me. I am never, ever trying that again."
She stares at me, expecting me to laugh, to say: Asher Thomas, you have reached a new low, but I'm frozen. The fact that she's wary of our newborn relationship is a stab in the gut, but I tell myself that it's expected. I'm Aaron Blakely, and I go through girls at miles per minute. I'm Aaron Blakely, and since I've met Asher, all I've done is complain about my own problems and give her more reasons to trust me less.
I want to laugh, I want to cry. For Asher Thomas thinking she isn't valuable to me is ludicrous, crazy – how can she not see that she is the one friend that I can rely on? How can she not see how important she's become? It dawns on me that she is my only outlet, and she is the only one who listens.
My arms encircle her small waist, pulling her towards me, and I'm hugging her, my grip tight. My head in the nape of her neck, her hair around me like a halo. I feel Asher freeze in my arms – she's surprised. I know that she's not used to this affection, for she's had her own people problems. I guess, it's time for me to help her burn down a few walls.
"You mean the world to me," I say. My voice is quiet, but it is sure. "You're one of the only people I can trust."
I hold her until her Dad comes, who wordlessly helps her into the car. She says, good night, Aaron Blakely, and I say, a good night to you too, Asher Thomas.
It is long after Asher has left that I leave my post at the beach, stuck in a whirlwind of new memories ... and of new hope.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
