All The Lies We Tell

Before It All

"Turn down the music," I begged Tristan.

"Cee, chill. It's not that loud," he said, barely glancing at the dashboard.

I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure that the best noise cancelling headphones on the surface of the planet couldn't drown out the base of the radio.

I reached for the dash and turned down the nob. If Tristan wanted to go deaf, fine but I hadn't planned to lose my hearing until at least sixty.

"Really?" Tristan said as he cut me a side eye. He reached for the nob and turned it up, louder this time.

Drake's voice blasted through the speakers, giving me an instant headache. Nothing against Drake, of course, but his voice was about as bearable as a screaming infant's at one in the morning.

"You need to loosen up Cee," Tristan said to me.

My eyes narrowed defensively. "You did not just say that," I replied.

He shifted in the driver's seat. He shot me a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road.

"Look, I just meant that everything doesn't need to be so serious. You should be happy! First party of the season went well."

That was a lie. The party was boring and over-hyped. I remembered waiting and hoping for an invite to the junior's end of the summer party. It was thrown by this guy named Karl whose parents are so rich, no one minded that he'd graduated a year ago and always smelled like weed. Everyone who was worth a damn was there and the party was notorious for being the catalyst for the drama that would ensue for the rest of the year.

"The party was boring Tristan. I would have had a better time sitting at home and staring at a wall," I told him.

"Well if you mingled a bit more maybe you'd have had fun."

He pulled up to a red light and stopped the car. He pulled his hands off the steering wheel to rake through his curls.

Tristan was by all definitions, gorgeous. He had warm brown skin that had never known the plight of acne. His eyes were almond shaped, light brown and encased in thick, dark lashes. I knew some girls that would have paid big bucks to have his natural lashes. He also happened to be tall, maybe too tall by some standards. Standing at 6"2, he was destined to be a basketball player from the moment coach Irwin laid eyes on him.

Admittedly, Tristan was perfect on the outside. It's just too bad he only cared about three things. Basketball, popularity and Drake. In that order. I doubt that I'd even make top 10 at this point.

"Gum?" He asked.

I took it. I knew that as soon as he parked in front of my house, a heavy make out session would ensue.

As Tristan put the car back in drive, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out and checked it. It was a text from my mom.

It read: "Chile, if you value your freedom, you better be home before I fall asleep."

I sucked my teeth. It was only a little after eleven. I told her I was going to be out late and yet, this is what I have to deal with. Next time, I'm lying to her like a normal teenager. "I'm on my way," I replied.

I looked over at Tristan who was fiddling with his phone which was hooked up to the AUX. I placed my hand on his.

"I'll do it," I told him.

I took his phone and went through his music library. When I found his favorite, I pressed play. Tristan rewarded me with a smile.

"Hey babe, there's something you should know."

Those were his last words to me. I didn't know it at the time, but at the very moment, there was another driver heading towards us at about 65 kilometers per hour. He didn't see us because it was dark or maybe because he wasn't paying attention or maybe because he simply didn't care enough to. The driver hit us from Tristan's side, sending our car flipping through the intersection. I felt like a t-shirt in a washing machine as we rolled once, twice and then stopped.

I couldn't breath. The wind had been knocked from my lungs leaving my gasping. Except the deployed air bag shoved into my face, slowly suffocating me.
My body ached in ways I didn't think was possible. It was weird because I couldn't feel any single part of my body but at the same time, every inch of me was in agony.

"Tristan?" I tried to call out. It came out muffled and just barely over a hoarse whisper.

I blinked debris and blood out of my eyes and tried to turn my head but there was something sharp stabbing my nape.

"Help!" I cried.

But it was too late. The driver who had hit us would die twenty-seven minutes later due to the excessive internal bleeding. Tristan, my first boyfriend, the person I'd lost my virginity to, the guy who promised to love me when one else would, died upon impact.

As for me, I lost about everything but my life that night.