“I don’t care. It still makes me mad.”

I read once that some men are hard-wired to be cheaters. That it’s in our DNA. I know that’s probably a bunch of crap dreamed up by guys who cheat to help them justify their behavior, but what if it’s not? What if it is a legitimate Darwinian tendency, passed down from father to son?

She takes a drink of her beer. “Does this mean I’m slipping on the movie slash likeability scale?”

“Good thing you have other redeeming qualities that make up for it.”

She pokes me in the ribs.

“Ouch. Remember my bee sting.”

“You got stung in the arm.”

“Yeah, I know, but you might jostle it.”

The movie starts and we all settle in. When we get to the part where the kid is being chased by the semi truck, there’s a knock at the door. Pounding, actually.

“I’ll get it.”

I untangle myself from Ivy’s legs, walk to the front of the house, and open the door.

On the covered porch is a young woman, her face streaming with blood.

Ivy

The girl’s name is Leesa. Cassidy and I are standing on either side of her, holding her up. We tried to get her to sit, but she refused. Jon and James are hovering over her boyfriend, Mark, who’s lying out on the lawn. A wrecked blue car is in the ditch. Kelly is on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator.

“It happened so fast,” Leesa sobs. “We got out and then he just collapsed.”

“An ambulance is on its way,” Kelly says, phone to her ear.

“Is there someone we can call?” I ask Leesa. “Your parents?”

“I’m visiting from out of town. They’re in Seattle.” She’s shaking so hard, I can hear her teeth rattling.

I run inside, grab a blanket from the couch, then run back out to the front porch and wrap it around Leesa’s shoulders.

“Someone get me a towel,” Jon yells in our direction.

I spin on my heel and dash back into the house. Please let there be clean towels in the downstairs bathroom. I open the first two drawers. Nothing. The bottom drawer has a few folded washcloths. Good enough. Ignoring the dull ache forming at the base of my skull, I grab them and sprint out to the front lawn. The guy lies there, motionless. I think Jon is talking to me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Like a robot, I hand him the towels and back away.

Cassidy is telling Leesa that her boyfriend is going to be okay, but I’m not so sure about that. It looks pretty bad to me. There’s blood everywhere, and a chunk of metal is sticking out of his chest. When you hit a tree going that fast, people die.

Hold on. I blink a few times and look around.

They didn’t hit a tree. They ran off the road into a ditch in front of Jon’s house. There’s blood, but not a lot.

About a dozen people have gathered out on the road. The siren is loud now.

“Over here,” Rick yells at the ambulance as it turns down the street.

Soon two EMTs are working on Mark, and Jon is explaining what happened to a third guy. He gestures with his hands and the man nods like he understands everything. I watch everything like it’s unfolding on a movie screen, as if it’s happening elsewhere, in another place and time.

After the ambulance takes Mark and Leesa to the hospital and the crowd disperses, everyone else turns to go back into the house. Jon and I are sitting on the porch steps, our arms around each other.

I hear the door open behind us, then someone puts a blanket around our shoulders.

“Thanks, bro,” Jon says, taking the bottle of water that James hands him.

Without a word, James turns and goes back inside.

Jon opens the bottle and hands it to me. I take a drink. Then another one. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. I hand it back to him, pulling the blanket tighter around our shoulders.

Neither of us is saying anything. We’re just staring out at the wrecked car and the now-empty front lawn. I think we’re both still in shock.

“Do you think Mark is going to be okay?” I ask.

“I hope so,” he says, hugging me a little tighter. “How about you? Doing okay?”

I’m touched by his concern. With everything that just happened, he’s thinking about me. “I’m okay.” I don’t need to tell him about my headache. It’s a little better now, anyway. I think the water helped. “How about you?”

“I’m good.”

As I look at the wrecked car, uneasiness stirs inside me. “Her phone is in there. She needs her phone.”

She’ll want to call someone, hear a familiar voice, but she can’t. She can’t move. She’s scared and nothing she does seems to help. She’s a doll and strangers are moving her arms and legs.

“I’m sure the police will make sure she gets it,” Jon says. “A tow truck should be here soon.”

I blink, unsure of what just happened. Was that a memory from my accident?

“No,” I tell him. “They won’t. She needs her things. She’ll be lost without them.”

Jon doesn’t argue with me, just nods his head and retrieves Leesa’s purse from the car.

The double doors at College View Memorial Hospital whoosh open and we step into the emergency room waiting area. Even though it’s a Sunday night, the place is busy. Patients who are waiting to be seen, along with their friends and families, take up almost all the empty seats. People in blue scrubs are everywhere, manning the check-in desks, walking down the halls, carrying clipboards, pushing patients in wheelchairs. Announcements blare over the intercom. We scan the waiting area for Leesa but don’t see her.

We head to the only open check-in desk, and a young man in scrubs looks up. He can’t be much older than Jon. He’s got short black hair, stylish glasses, and a nice smile. After Jon explains why we’re here, the man promises to get the purse to Leesa.

“How’s he doing? The boyfriend?” Jon asks.

“I’m afraid I can’t give out that kind of information,” the man says. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

We stop in the hallway, where Jon takes a drink from the water fountain. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. My exhaustion has finally caught up to me. It feels like I just ran a marathon. My headache is still there, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. I just feel numb and spent.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. “Did you two come to see how your patient is doing?”

I open my eyes to see one of the EMTs coming out of the nearby men’s restroom. He’s got red hair, a short goatee, and an earring in each ear.

“We brought Leesa’s purse from the car and wanted to make sure she had it,” Jon says. “How’s she doing? How’s Mark?”

“Leesa’s fine. Her parents are on their way. And Mark—” The man pauses to put his hands on Jon’s shoulders. “—is probably alive because of you and your friend. You kept that boy breathing, his heart pumping, until we got there. He’s not out of the woods yet, but the docs are hopeful.”

Jon slowly nods his head.

“How did you learn CPR, anyway? Honestly, that kind of calm under those circumstances is a quality not many people have.”

“I got certified at a vocational school I went to a few years ago. I—I thought about doing what you do one day. I’m just glad I remembered it.”

Vocational school? Was that when he was serving time in juvenile detention? I didn’t know he thought about becoming an EMT. But now that I think about it, when he was trying to talk me down off the roof, didn’t I accuse him of being a fireman wannabe?

“And what are you doing now?” the man asks.

“I’m a chem major at PSU.”

“Ah, chemistry. Nice. Must have a good head on your shoulders. Going into medicine, I hope.”

“I…uh…uh—”

The man claps him on the back. “Well, I hope you do, because you definitely have what it takes.” He glances around to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in close. “I’ll tell you one thing. You’ll never regret it. Saving lives is one of the best fucking jobs on the planet.”