The weeks connecting Thanksgiving and Christmas pass by in a haze. It feels like we jumped from one holiday to the other without taking time to savor the ordinary days in between.
Once again, the festivities remind me of Margo, and that formidable sadness returns to my chest. On Christmas, I plan to visit her grave. I know it's just a stone in the ground, but other than a cryptic note and a Zippo lighter, it's all that's left of my grandmother.
"Want me to come with you?" Damian offers.
"This is something I need to do on my own," I reply, "but thank you."
When Christmas morning arrives, I leave my presents for Damian and Moira beneath the tree and walk to the cemetery. The ground is dusted with a light covering of snow, and the leafless tree branches twinkle with icy crystals. The sky is a pale gray, but the sun shines through the silver clouds.
It's truly a Winter Wonderland.
I locate her headstone and lower myself to the ground, grazing the top of the obelisk with my fingers.
Don't cry, Layla. It's just a piece of marble.
"Merry Christmas, Margo," I whisper.
I think back to last year. To the sugar cookies we baked. To the cheesy photobook I made her, which she absolutely adored. To the laughs we shared. It was our first Christmas together, and the best one I'd ever had.
It was also our last.
"So... Richard and Saul are pissed that you left everything to me," I tell her, rolling my eyes. "I spent all summer in a lawyer's office while they bitched and moaned about how I was too young to handle that much money. God, they are so entitled, especially Richard."
A smile tugs at my lips. I'm relieved that my uncles finally realized their quest for Margo's money was a lost cause and left it—and me—alone.
"By the way, you'll be pleased to hear that I'm going to college in the fall! I don't know where yet, just that it will be as far away from this hick town as possible," I say with a chuckle. "I applied to a bunch of schools on the east coast, so maybe New York? I discovered that I love big cities. Small town life really isn't for me."
I rise to my feet and brush the snow off my knees. I know she can't hear me, but it's been nice talking with her. She may not have been the first adult to show me kindness, but she was the first one to believe in me. She left that money to me so I could attend university and make something of myself.
I just hope I can make her proud.
I say goodbye to my grandmother and exit the graveyard, ready to go back to the Forbes' house. However, a figure in the distance causes me to freeze up, my legs locked in place as if stuck to the icy ground.
"Hank," I murmur, swallowing the lump in my throat. I haven't seen him in months. I was not expecting to find him in a cemetery on Christmas.
"Layla?" He stumbles toward me. Even from afar, I can smell the whiskey on his breath. "The fuck are you doing here?"
"Visiting Margo," I reply hastily. "Listen, I have to go. Merry Christmas."
I try to walk past him, but he grabs onto my arm, yanking me closer.
"Hank, please," I beg him. "Not today."
"Where the hell you been, huh?" he asks. "You just up and left!"
"I moved out," I tell him, squirming as I try to escape his rigid grasp. "Let go of me!"
"Where'd ya move to?"
"Why do you care?"
"You ain't eighteen yet. You can't live on your own," he hisses. "You got a boy? He knock you up or something?"
"What?" I exclaim. "No, there isn't a boy! I just wanted to get away from you!"
His pupils turn into pinpoints as his grip tightens. His fingers wrap around my bicep, squeezing painfully.
He finally lets go, but not before shoving me backwards. I try to regain my balance, but in the battle of me versus gravity, gravity always wins.
I hit the cold ground with a painful smack, followed by a sharp pain at the base of my skull. Around me, the world spins. I open my eyes, but all I see are stars.
Then everything fades to gray.
I rush through the emergency room doors, pushing past confused doctors and flustered nurses as I make my way to the front desk. I can't hear anything; the rapid beating of my heart echoes inside of my skull, drowning out all the other noises.
"Who are you here for, sir?" the receptionist asks, an exasperated look on her face.
"Layla," I answer. "Layla Dodds."
While she types something on her computer, I take a deep breath, attempting to clear the cobwebs in my head.
"She was brought in about an hour ago," the receptionist tells me after the world's longest minute. "She's in the ICU right now and isn't allowed visitors."
ICU? Why the hell is she in the ICU?
Nodding my head, I back away slowly.
"Excuse me, are you Damian?"
I turn around at the mention of my name. In front of me, I see a girl with pale skin, auburn hair, and deep brown eyes. She looks about my age, maybe a year or two younger.
"I found your friend. I called you from her phone," she informs me.
"Right. Thank you for that, by the way." I find a seat in the waiting room, and she follows. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name," I admit. "After you said she hit her head...."
"Layla, where are you? You've been gone for hours!"
"Hi, is this Damian?"
My heart stopped when I heard the unfamiliar voice—a voice that was definitely not Layla's. "Uh, yeah. Who is this? Why do you have Layla's phone?"
"My name's Effie. Listen, I found your girlfriend at the cemetery. It looks like she fell and hit her head on one of the stones. She's unconscious, and she's bleeding pretty bad. I called an ambulance. I'm gonna follow her in my car."
"I'm Effie. Effie Holt," she reminds me. "I'm just happy I was in the right place at the right time. I would have called her parents, but she didn't have anyone saved in her phone as 'Mom' or 'Dad,' so I figured her boyfriend was the next best thing."
"Layla isn't close with her parents," I say, frowning, "and I'm not her boyfriend. We're just friends."
"Really?" Effie furrows her brow. "She had a heart emoji next to your name."
"I didn't know that," I whisper, burying my head in my hands. "You know, I didn't think it was a good idea for her to walk to a fucking graveyard by herself first thing in the morning. I practically begged her to let me tag along, but she insisted she'd be fine."
Effie exhales a heavy sigh. "Look, I didn't see the whole incident, but...." She shakes her head, as if contemplating her words carefully. "There was... there was someone else with her. A man, I think."
"A man? What did he look like?"
"He was middle-aged, skinny, about average height. I didn't see his face."
"Well, what were they doing?" I demand. "Did he touch her?"
"I'm not sure, Damian," she replies. "I heard arguing, so I rushed over. Next thing I knew, she was on the ground, and he was running off."
Middle-aged, skinny, average height, prone to violent outbursts, likely to leave an injured girl for dead....
Yeah, I think I know who did this.
"Thank you again for calling me, and for making sure she got to the hospital," I say to Effie, folding my hands so she can't see how badly they're shaking. "Without you, Layla would probably be dead right now."
"You don't have to thank me."
"No, I owe you everything."
Her cheeks redden. She looks away before asking, "Is anyone coming to wait with you?"
"Yeah," I reply, "my mom and my girlfriend will be here soon."
"I'll stay until they arrive," she offers. "You shouldn't be alone right now.
"You don't have to. It's Christmas. I'm sure your family is wondering where you are."
She shakes her head. "Trust me, they're not."
We sit in silence. Effie doesn't try to engage me in small talk, and I'm grateful for that. I'm not gonna lounge around and shoot the shit while my best friend is lying in the ICU.
Based on Effie's description, it sounds like Layla smacked her head pretty hard. She definitely has a concussion. She probably needs stitches. But they wouldn't take her to the ICU for that.
An hour passes, and I'm still not allowed to see her. My mom and Jessica aren't here yet, which is also concerning, but I only have enough mental energy for one problem right now. At the moment, Layla needs all of my brain power.
"She'll be okay," Effie says, resting her hand on my knee. "She was still breathing when I found her. She even opened her eyes for a moment."
The tiniest of grins tugs at my lips. "Did she really?"
"Oh, yeah. She's a fighter. I can tell."
"She's the strongest person I know."
"Tell me about her," Effie suggests. "What is Layla like?"
"Well," I begin, "she's brilliant. Like, she's a genius. She breezes through school without even trying. I don't think I've ever seen her study, but she aces every assignment. She reads books like War and Peace for fun. She knows the first hundred digits of pi from memory. She's the smartest person I've ever met, and she's only seventeen
"She's kind, too. She'd do anything for a friend or a stranger in need. She stands up to bullies, even the ones who could break her in half. She doesn't tolerate injustice. She's tiny, but she's fearless.
"And she's beautiful. She doesn't see it, but I do. She has big green eyes and a smile that could cure cancer. When she's happy, you can't help but feel happy, too. It's contagious."
I stop when I realize that my face is wet with tears. I wipe my watery eyes and shake my head, embarrassed with myself. Effie barely knows me. She doesn't need to see me get emotional in a hospital waiting room on Christmas Day.
"Come here." Effie wraps her arms around my shoulders. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, allowing the tears to fall freely. "Everything's gonna be okay, Damian."
I want to believe her, but with each passing minute, I grow less certain if I'll ever see my best friend's smile again.
A/N:
Thoughts about the "accident"? Damian's reaction?
Thank you so much for reading! We're nearing the end of this story, and I just want you all to know that I appreciate you! ❤️