Screams tore out of my throat, and tears ran down my face as my feet carried me through the parking lot. The sobs and whimpers of my little brother echoed through my head. He was bleeding and there wasn’t a dang thing I could do about it. HIs fingers crushed in the top of the truck, the bones gleaming in the moonlight, the blood slick across the wreckage of what used to be fingers. The night air swirled around me as I ran through all the mean things I’d ever said to him, all the times I’d been too busy to help him with something.

But you, you were different. You delicately took him in your arms and you wrapped him up. You cooed to him, like a mother to her child. You kept him breathing and prevented hyperventilation. You were his hero. You were my hero.

“Get in the car!” Mom shouted at me, as if in a dream I made my way into the front seat. The cries of pain from the backseat shook me to the core. I’ve never been in an emergency, I’ve always been healthy and my blood has stayed inside my body. This was a moment of pure panic for me. I couldn’t think, my brain wouldn’t allow me to. “Call Thierry and tell him we’re going to the Emergency Room.”

My head was hollow and those words ricocheted inside me. Emergency Room? Isn’t that where people die? My heart sunk even further into my chest. I had to remind myself that the only thing wrong with Jason was his fingers. They were crumpled and warped. I felt the tears pouring down my face.

But you, you remained calm. You delicately held him in your arms and you whispered words of courage to him. You took him under your wing, like a hen does to her chicks.

I picked up the phone in my numb hand. I fumbled with it until I found the correct number and dialed.

“Hello, this is Thierry.” His voice was groggy and coated with fatigue.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t think. Jason was squealing in the backseat, whimpering and trying to be brave like you. “Thierry...” I forced the word out, it was no small feat. “We’re going to the ER, Jason smashed his fingers...it’s bad.” I knew it wasn’t life threatening, but the blood and the confusion, and the helplessness that I felt was overwhelming. I couldn’t do anything for him.

But you, you held his mangled, bloody hand in yours and let him cry on you. You used your T-shirt to wipe away a child’s tears, you held him close to your body and never let go.

“I’ll be there. I’ll get all the insurance information.” He was half way out the door before he hung up.

The phone, still clutched in my hand, let out the annoying beeps of a call that has been disconnected. Somehow I didn’t notice, I could only focus on the lights racing past us, and the speedometer as it climbed higher and higher. I found myself thinking about us and where we had been two years before this night. In fact, it was two years ago almost to the day that we broke up. Miraculous how we remained best friends for so long after that. It probably helped that you had girlfriends for company and I had my sister. I glanced back in the mirror, the tender way you held my brother was as if you were holding my heart again. Images of our future were blurred in my mind, tears obscuring my view. I tore away from that and looked out the front window.

“Hurry.” I breathed out.

“I’m trying. When we get there I’m going to hop out and you need to park the car.” Mom’s tone was firm, almost as if she knew that if she didn’t give me enough pressure I would fall apart. I didn’t respond for a while. “Can you do that?” She urged.

“Yes.” Monotone reached all of us. Ellie, my sister, sat in the backseat, her fingers firmly plunged deep into her ears, humming issuing from her tightly sealed lips. I envied her ability to block it out. I, on the other hand, was absorbing all of it. I couldn’t seem to stop the image of his crushed fingers being pulled out of the door. I shuddered and found that everyone was moving around me. They were hopping out of the car and moving into the hospital. Numbly, I drove away and parked. I sat there, my head resting against the steering wheel thinking of you.
You were different. You didn’t panic, you just took charge. You were able to keep my brother together, you may not have saved his life, but you saved mine. I realized in that moment that I still loved you. I hadn’t ever stopped loving you, but my fear of commitment was a thick wedge between us.

I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, a mockery of a caress between two lovers. I climbed out of the car and waited on the bench outside. I couldn’t be in the room with Jason. His cries and objections at being stitched back together was too much. My brain wouldn’t allow me to sit there and listen to it, completely helpless and essentially useless. Hours later, my back sore and stiff from sitting too long, you came out. Jason was hanging onto you and tears blurred my vision. I flung myself across the parking lot towards the two of you and kissed Jason swiftly and fiercely on the head.

“You were so brave, Buddy.” I whispered to him. “Braver than I’ve ever been. You’re so brave.” My heart was full of emotion. I couldn’t contain myself.

I turned towards you, and you were so different. You were no longer the boy across the street. You had become in a matter of a few short hours the man I was determined to marry. You looked at me, my swollen eyes, my dirty T-shirt, my unkempt hair, and you smiled. I flung myself into your arms and you held me as tears fell between us.

“Thank you. Thank you, thankyou thankyou thankyou.” The words started to blend together, just as I realized our futures would.

But you, you just chuckled and held onto me. You were so different, and I realized in that moment that I liked ‘different.’