The Promise Read online

  I really came out of my shell around then. I’m not sure what changed, but for the first time I felt beautiful, sexy, fun, and popular. I wished I could have felt like that at school, but around the girls there I never really did. It took meeting people like Carly and Samantha to remind me of how friendships were supposed to be, how people were supposed to treat each other. By senior year I had decided to change high schools and graduate elsewhere, because I didn’t want to deal with the drama anymore at the private school.

  After dinner and a lot of laughter, we all dolled ourselves up, ready to hit the clubs. It was about eight o’clock, and we were excited to go out dancing. I felt like I was in my college dorm room, all of us in one bathroom, giggling and applying our makeup, cracking jokes about how nicely we had cleaned up. I wore my white satin dress, and they all slipped on their various shades of purple and matching black belts. My favorite dance music was Britney Spears, so as a treat Samantha created a really cool mix of all of her songs, which we planned to blare in the limo.

  After about an hour we started taking pictures. Carly’s mom took pictures of the group of us, and we laughed the entire time. The limo was picking us up at ten. Just before we were leaving, we went down to the kitchen and mixed up this crazy red drink concoction to take with us while we headed from club to club. A black stretch limo pulled up in front of the house, and we jumped in with our red drinks, ready for a fun night. At one point while we were driving around, I managed to spill the red drink on my white dress. Of course, I was the only one spilling and the only one in white, so it couldn’t have felt more disastrous at the time. As I sat there soaked down the front and about to freak out, Lauren yelled up to the driver, “Stop at the next Rite Aid you see.”

  Within a couple of minutes, he pulled over. Britney and Lauren ran inside, bought five bleach pens, and went to town on the dress. After about ten minutes of intense scrubbing and rubbing, we all looked down and agreed the cleanup had worked. Tragedy had been averted. Later, looking at the dress in the light, I could see that it was still totally stained. I had a pink sash on that said “Bachelorette,” so maybe that hid it or helped it blend a little. And ultimately it didn’t matter at all.

  We went to clubs all over town, and it was so cool pulling up in a limo. We stepped out like we were total rock stars. It was an incredible feeling, being treated to such a decadent night with such great people. But I wasn’t quite graceful enough to live up to my pretend status. At the second club everyone poured out of the car. We headed up to the second floor, making our way to the upper deck. We reached the top, and everyone looked our way to acknowledge that a bachelorette party had arrived. Right in that moment, the heel of my shoe got stuck between the wooden deck boards. My shoe stayed, I didn’t, and I fell almost facedown, sprawled out in front of everyone in line. We all thought it was the most hilarious thing that ever could have happened, and we laughed about it as they helped me up. I cheered loudly with them to play it off as cool as possible.

  We danced all night, and at one o’clock in the morning, we climbed into the limo to head back home. We had to carry our shoes at this point, because our feet were so sore from the high heels. We had been drinking, but we weren’t really drunk. We were sober enough to know when to go home. I’ve thought a lot about the timing of this night and wondered how it could have gone differently. If I had gotten drunk, would I have gone right to sleep when I got back to Carly’s house? If we’d gone to one more club, would we have been too tired for the next series of events? I’ve thought about how and when we decided to call the night and head home and how that timing determined the outcome of the rest of my life.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Accident

  Lauren and I used to dream of being mermaids when we were little and argue over who got to be Ariel. Every Sunday, my dad, Larry, used to take me to a cafeteria for breakfast where they had a fountain. I’d always ask for two pennies to make a wish. I’d use one to wish I was a mermaid, but because I felt that was a selfish wish, I always used the second penny to wish for world peace.

  Once we were all danced out, Lauren suggested we take a swim when we returned to Carly’s house. We all raced out of the limo and ran upstairs to change into our bathing suits. The night had been so much fun. We had talked a lot about Chris and our future and boys they liked, too. These girls had heard it all before, but part of the fun of the night was getting all the attention as a bride-to-be, and we talked about not only how Chris and I ultimately got together after all my crazy fears but also how we almost didn’t.

  During that week when Chris and I were apart, before we became a couple, all I could think about was how I wanted to take back everything I had said. I wanted to replace “No, I don’t want to date you” with “Oh, I’ve changed my mind because there is this new girl coming along for you and I don’t want to miss out on the greatest thing ever.” But I just couldn’t yet.

  The girl and the guy that Mike had planned for us both did visit, but nothing came of it for either me or Chris. Thankfully. Finally, after that week of being apart, we both wound up at Virginia Beach, and that entire time I could think of nothing else but Chris and our future together. I even had trouble sleeping. I was obsessed with figuring out what my feelings meant and why I had him on my mind.

  I would think over and over again in my head, What do I do? What do I do? I couldn’t focus on anything else. That’s when it became obvious that we had to remain good friends and become a couple. Both were allowed. Both could work. It took me some time to figure out that we could do both, but when I did I knew I’d had a life-altering epiphany. Embracing one didn’t mean giving up the other. I think I knew, or at least hoped, that it was going to work out and that ultimately I wouldn’t have to sacrifice friendship for love, because we would survive on both levels. I felt it in my gut, and the decision felt peaceful and right.

  We arranged to meet, and he picked me up at midnight and then we drove to the oceanfront. We wound up at 65th Street, and we sat on the beach cuddling. I was kind of clingy with him because I hadn’t seen him, and I remember thinking, I am just going to have to ask him because he’s definitely not going to re-ask me.

  We were sitting there alone, with a bright moon lighting up the beach, and I said, “We need to talk.”

  I am pretty sure a guy never wants to hear those words, but I said them anyway. He looked worried, that much I could tell. Still, I looked at him and said, “I thought about it a lot this week, and I’m ready for us to move forward. I want to be with you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I nodded and said, “Yes.”

  We didn’t even kiss—we just lay there hugging, embracing, and sitting intertwined on the beach all night long. It might sound like a made-for-the-movies scene from a fairy tale love story, but we saw the sunrise together. It was just awesome.

  At the crack of dawn, we were still laughing and talking. We hadn’t slept at all, and we were giddy. We got up when it became light, and we ran around a bit on the beach. He picked me up and spun me around, and I remember thinking it was the greatest moment. It had been a perfect night. That night we named the street leading to the spot on the beach our street.

  I had never dated anyone, and I was glad we had eliminated all the pressure of a date, not knowing what each of us was feeling. There were no games or manipulation. We just decided to be each other’s. We wanted to belong to each other, and we said so without any hesitation. I don’t know what it feels like to meet a guy with the hope and intention that it turns into something; to be friends and already know each other on that level, and to have it gradually develop, felt natural. I had this feeling right then, as we were watching the sun and horsing around, that once we committed to each other it would never end. I was a good judge of character, and after knowing Chris for eight months, it seemed like he was flawless and we meshed so well together. I felt I was giving in to a perfect connection that no one I
knew had ever had, and it seemed like I was starting my forever.

  The summer we started dating was the best summer ever because he didn’t have a job and I quit my job at a camping and cycling store. I was really good at ringing people up, but I didn’t know any details about road bikes, and it was hard to learn. Once I gave my notice, then Chris and I could do whatever we wanted. Fortunately, I had a little financial help from my parents, though my expenses totaled less than two hundred dollars per month. Still, that freedom made it possible for us to have a blast. We would stay up until five in the morning talking and just being together. We would sleep in, get up and eat, and then go out at night with our friends. We’d go to the lake all the time and ride around on the boat and go wakeboarding. We had this one Rascal Flatts CD, and it was the anthem of the summer. During the week in Greenville, we would always go out in big groups, but Chris and I would slip away on the weekends and go sunbathing and swimming and just be together. It was unbreakable, our bond. I think that bond made what happened by the pool that night, knowing we were together forever, manageable.

  I went outside to the pool with the girls, but I was being kind of a wimp about going in because of the temperature. It had cooled off slightly, and in a bathing suit, I was making a little noise about going in the water. It was dark, with only the moon lighting the deck and the water. We were all in a really good mood and still laughing as much as we had been when the night first began.

  No one else had even gone in the water yet. The voices—who was saying what, who was giggling, who was standing where—all blurred together.

  Suddenly, I felt two cold hands on my back, and then a little playful push sent me into the water.

  Two feet to the right, and I would have been in the deep end.

  Two feet to the right, and I would still be walking.

  Two feet changed the course of my life forever.

  That’s it. Two feet.

  I don’t know why, but when I felt the hands on my back giving me a light, fun shove, instead of just falling, my reflex was to dive in. Head first instead of feet first. But my arms weren’t locked out enough, so they weakened, and I hit my head on the bottom of the pool. In a split second everything froze. My mind, my body. I was in complete shock. I floated up to the top, facedown in the water, like a lifeless body, bobbing. Suddenly, I was on my back, my face out of the water, allowing me to gasp once for air and then yell, “Help.” I thought I had floated onto my back myself, but since I couldn’t feel anything, I didn’t know someone had turned me over in the water after jumping in to get me. I looked up and said, “This isn’t a joke—y’all need to call 911.” Ironically, almost all of us had worked as lifeguards. A couple of other people jumped in as well, and I remember Samantha tried to do the correct thing by stabilizing me in the water until EMS arrived. I was so cold and scared that I just looked at her and said, “Get me the fuck out of the water.” I later learned it wasn’t the impact as much as the angle that caused my injury. It really could have been much worse. My arms may not have locked, but ultimately, my hands protected my head when it hit. There could have been substantially more damage had this not been the case.

  I was a lifeguard, too, and I should have known better than to tell them to get me out of the water. Ultimately, I’m not sure if it made a difference or not. They all helped pull me out and put me on the side of the pool, with my lower legs dangling in the water. My first moment of true fear was looking down at my legs, seeing them in the water but not being able to feel all of the sensations associated with water. I couldn’t feel anything.

  I knew it was serious as I lay there.

  Before help arrived someone was holding my hand. I was just staring into her eyes as we waited.

  “I can’t feel my legs. Something isn’t right,” I said.

  “It’s probably just some kind of nerve damage; don’t worry,” someone said calmly. “It’s not serious, I’m sure.”

  Everything was sort of foggy at this point. My friends remained by my side. What I remember clearly was the reaction of my friend who had playfully pushed me. She kept apologizing. In that moment I knew she would carry a huge amount of guilt, and I didn’t want her to live with that. I told her right there, as I was waiting for EMS to arrive, that it would be okay. I comforted her even though I was scared myself. Even in that moment, I knew it was important to do so.

  It was right then under the moonlight, after my wonderful bachelorette party, that a silent pact was formed, though in the coming months it would become formalized. It was a chilling event that changed all of our lives: the innocence we were experiencing that night at the pool, and then robbed of, and the moments of scramble to save me. It was there as I was lying at the side of the pool that instantly we all bonded. Despite the reason for our bond, it became the strongest force in my life, next to my love for Chris. If I hadn’t met this group of girls, and had instead been surrounded by some of the mean ones I went to high school with, I’m not sure I’d have survived the hurdles I dealt with in the wake of that night. These friendships saved me. Most girls are competitive with each other. Not this group. We redefined friendship that night and built a support system so strong even tragedy couldn’t break it.

  None of us has ever revealed the name of the girl who playfully pushed me that night, and none of us ever will. Protecting her has always been too important, her feelings too important, the situation too fragile and fraught with potential pain. Besides, it could have been any one of us. Any one of our lives could have been impacted by one playful gesture. Any one of us could have lived with that guilt forever. Any one of us could have been pulled motionless from the chilly water. I think as we waited for help, we all knew the tables easily could have been turned. We’d all played by the pool before and we all knew that what happened to me, what happened to her, could have happened to any of us. For that reason, the name of that one girl who maybe suffered most in all of this remained at the side of the pool that night. That secret will stay with all of us forever.

  CHAPTER 5

  Paralyzed

  The emergency medical workers arrived and checked my vitals, then prepared to hustle me into the ambulance.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “You likely have a broken neck,” one said.

  I thought, Holy crap, I just broke my neck and lived. Then I said, “Whoa, I’m a badass.”

  Despite my joking, I was concerned my condition was most likely permanent. I looked at one of the EMS workers and asked, “How many people in your experience have walked away from something like this?”

  She didn’t answer right away. They both just kept working. I said, “Don’t beat around the bush. Tell me.”

  The EMS worker said, “In my thirty years on the job, only one person has walked away.”

  I looked at her and said, “Well, I’ll be the second.” Maybe it was false hope I was grasping on to, but hey, it got me through those next few hours.

  They placed me in the back of the ambulance; the trip from the pool to the vehicle was a blur. Lauren ran alongside as they moved me and jumped into the front seat of the ambulance to make the trip to the hospital. She told me later that the driver was a guy she went to church with as a child and hadn’t seen since then. In all the hustle, they didn’t notice until they were driving away toward the hospital.

  Before I knew it I was on my back on a metal table in the hospital in Virginia Beach with my neck being stabilized. The room was small and bright. Saying it was like a dream sounds cliché, but it felt unreal, like it couldn’t possibly be happening to me. I felt like I was witnessing someone else’s horror, not experiencing my own. It took all of my energy to remain calm.

  I asked anyone who came in, “What’s happening?” and “What are you not telling me?” I couldn’t really get any answers. Every nurse and doctor who came in said, “Let’s wait for your neurologist.” Until he arrived, no one was t
elling me anything.

  The girls were in the waiting room, and my parents had been called. They got to the hospital before I did and were with me the entire time. My grandparents and Chris’s mom, Susan, all arrived at some point, but Chris wasn’t there. He was out of town on his camping trip and couldn’t be reached right away. He was camping with his dad at Eno River State Park in Durham, about three hours away. He told me later that the park rangers found them and said only that there was a big family emergency. They both thought Chris’s ninety-year-old grandmother, who had been suffering from Alzheimer’s, had passed away. They finally found a point with cell reception, and his dad called home. Chris heard him say, “I understand.” Then he hung up the phone.

  He said to Chris, “Are you settled and okay?”

  Chris said, “Yes.”

  His dad said, “Well, you’re not about to be.”

  His dad drove him back to our house in Knightdale, and he raced in to grab clothes and dump the camping gear. His father told him only that there had been an accident and that I had been hurt. They both knew it was bad, but not exactly how bad. He said later that he took a very quick shower because they had been roughing it, and he cried so hard in the shower that he could hardly see.

  My parents never left my side in the examining room, trying to be comforting, stroking my hair as we waited. I think it was tough on the people working there, because I was young and otherwise vibrant. Someone told me later that my makeup was basically still on, that it looked almost perfect, and that my hair had dried in pretty blond waves. I think that image of a young girl made it even harder on them. I learned later that one of the EMS volunteers who had taken me to the hospital made mine her last call because it was just too upsetting for her to process, and she didn’t want to encounter anything so tragic again.