Текст книги "The Stillburrow Crush"

Автор книги: Linda Kage

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

I arrived early to school the next morning. Luke was waiting for me once again by my locker. People stared. And they talked. There's no denying that. It was hard to decide which shocked them more: the scandal with my brother or the fact that Luke Carter was interested in me. He walked down the halls beside me. It felt very strange, like I was wearing my shoes on the wrong feet, but Luke courted like a gentleman. He didn't kiss me in public or even hold my hand. But he subtly let people know he was with me. I about died when he introduced me to his best friend. I'd lived in the same small town as Nathan Bates my whole life and here was Luke introducing us. Nate very graciously shook my hand, but I had to say, "Hello, Nathan. Have you lived in Stillburrow long?"

He paused at that and cocked an is-this-girl-mentallystable look toward Luke. But Luke shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at me. "Very funny." Nate finally realized I was joking and then he couldn't stop laughing.

Luke even had E.T. and me sit by him at lunch. I think E.T. fell into hero worship over Luke too. At first he was a little self-conscious, thinking Luke was making a better grade than he was in trigonometry, so he quizzed him a little. Thank goodness I'd given Luke the head's up about E.T.'s complex. He knew to answer the questions with an, "I'm not really sure." And then he'd scratch his head as if he were puzzled. 202

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When E.T. gave him the right answer, he'd nod and say, "Oh, OK. I get it," as if the light was just then dawning. I could've kissed him right there for doing that.

Abby came to school that day, but Sidney didn't. Abby walked down the halls with a limp. I chose to believe what she told everyone when she said she'd hurt her back practicing a new cheerleading routine. But I kept thinking of what Marty had told me and wondering if that had anything to do with the reason she moved like every muscle in her body was sore.

Luke didn't know the whole story about her, but he saw the way I watched her and he constantly tried to divert my attention.

"What'd you get on your trigonometry test?" I glanced up and wondered if I'd ever grow used to seeing him smile at me. He had a smug grin as he crossed his arms and leaned his back against the locker next to mine.

"You got a better score than you ever have before, didn't you?"

I showed him only the hint of a smile. "Maybe." I closed my locker and strolled away. Knowing he was following, I pulled my test results out of my binder. Within moments, it was snatched out of my hand.

"Ninety-eight percent!" He sounded insulted. I paused and glanced back at him. He'd stopped walking and was holding my test with both hands, staring at it with a gaping mouth. Students streamed around him, heading down the hall in the opposite direction. A few jocks slugged him in the shoulder as they passed.

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"I know, I know," I said with a sigh. "You're right. I could've done better."

"Done better?" He glanced up at me. "I only got a ninetyfour." I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Stealing the paper back, I spun away and started down the hall again.

"Maybe you should've studied more, Carter," I called over my shoulder.

A moment later, I felt a slight jostle at my shoulder. He'd caught up with me again. He was striding quietly beside me and staring straight ahead. His jaw was tense. "Don't even think about rubbing it in," he said.

I shrugged and kept up the brisk pace beside him. But after a few moments of silence, I couldn't take it anymore.

"You know, if you start falling behind enough to make Underthe-hill sic a tutor on you, I'll be more than willing to give you a hand."

He glared. "Shut up," he said, then turned away. But he couldn't keep in the laugh. We'd just made it to my next class and he stopped us by the door. He examined my face and then reached up and tucked a stray hair behind my ear.

"Good job," he said, and his blue eyes glittered with pride. I glowed. "Thank you."

"Meet me here, next hour?" At my nod, he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on my lips. I felt my face heat. Glancing around to see if everyone nearby had stopped to gawk, I couldn't stop myself from lifting a few fingers to my still-tingling mouth. But the only two people that took notice of me were trying to walk around me to get into the 204

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classroom. For a moment, I was paralyzed. Why was no one flipping out and staring at me for kissing Luke Carter?

And for the first time, I thought maybe I wasn't such an oddball in school after all. Maybe everyone didn't think I was a freak of nature. Maybe it wasn't so misplaced for me to be seen with Luke. And I couldn't seem to hold back a huge grin. The lake party took place that Friday. I heard through the grapevine that Abby had asked some basketball player to go with her. It irked me. Sure hadn't taken her long to get over Marty, had it? So I must say I was wickedly pleased when, by the end of the week, Liz Curry had wrapped the basketball player around her finger and snagged him out from under Abby's eager grasp. Abby was forced to go stag with Jill Anderson.

Luke asked me to go with him but I reminded him I was grounded.

"Still?" he said. But he already knew that. He'd been calling every night, asking whichever parent answered the phone if he could come over and see me. And every night, either Mom or Dad would tell him no. I was grounded. On Thursday, he asked, "How long is this grounded thing going to last?" Then he moved closer and whispered. "I need to read my poem to you."

I grinned up at him. "Read it to me now." But he only shook his head and glanced around at everyone passing us in the hall. "No," he said with conviction.

"We have to be alone."

My eyebrows rose. "Is it that good?" Again he shook his head. "No."

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I punched him lightly in the arm. "You wrote me a bad poem?"

"Shh." He leaned down to my ear. "It's not the best I've written. But it is the most important." Now I was getting antsy. "Just show it to me so I can read it."

"Nope," he said. "I have to read it to you." I didn't know whether to be impressed by this stubborn streak of his or to despise it.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Whatever. I'll see you when I'm released from Paxton Prison."

But when I asked my parents that night when I was going to be set free, neither gave me a definite answer. I think they planned on keeping me grounded until Luke Carter lost interest.

On Friday morning, Nate wanted to know if Luke was riding to the party with him since it seemed obvious I wasn't going. But Luke remained uncertain. I could tell he didn't want to go without me. And that made my heart go a little wild. I never heard what he finally told Nate. He found me at the end of school, taking my arm and falling into step beside me.

"I'm walking you home," he declared. We were quiet most of the trip. Other groups of kids, young and old, walked with us for a while. The air was still, but cold. It hadn't snowed yet and the ground looked brown and barren. But with Luke next to me, I couldn't complain. Our hands were locked together and our connected arms swung lightly between us. Every so often our book bags, 206

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which were slung over our shoulders, would bump into each other. Luke looked tall and gallant in his letterman's jacket. As we moved on, fewer people walked with us. We were a block from home before it was finally just the two of us. He moved closer. I knew because I could feel his heat warm me. He bent his head slightly and spoke quietly as if he were talking to the sidewalk:

"Fourth of July in the sky. / Oasis for the night." I glanced up and was about to ask if I'd heard him correctly, when I realized what he was doing.

"Light explodes like a weeping willow / or a blanket drapedover the ground." His walking pace began to slow. My lips parted as I watched his eyes grow cloudy.

"Bottle rockets and sweet red juice. / Goodbye toinnocence and youth." He looked up at me and I noticed a slight red ring forming around his lashes as if the feelings inside were making him misty-eyed. "Let freedom flare and sparkle / or picnic under the stars. / It was the cascading color / of an invented Aurora Borealis." Luke stopped walking completely then. He turned to face me, taking my hands in both of his. He didn't talk for a moment, and it looked like he couldn't.

And then he finished the poem. "But the most piercing explosion came from my breast, / when I caught the reflection of rockets in her eyes." I sucked in a breath. "I like it," I said, trying to breathe normally. "It's perfect."

Luke's hands squeezed mine. "I named it, 'When I Fell in Love.'"

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I stared at him. For a moment I was frozen, unable to respond.

"Carrie?" His voice wasn't quite steady. I had to blink a few times to bring his face into focus. And when I did, I saw the furrowed brows and worried eyes. "Are you sure?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "I've been so confused about everything lately. I'm not sure about anything." He stepped close. "Except this. You were right. You were right about so many things."

I didn't know if I could take too much more of this gushy talk. My heart was about to overload with all the emotions striking me, so I shrugged. "I usually am." Luke smiled and bumped his forehead against mine. "How do you do that?"

I looked up at him. "Do what?"

"After that first interview at the football homecoming game, I was so mad at you. I kept thinking up things I should've said but you would've come back with some smart remark. You always know what to say." He was wrong, but I didn't correct him.

"You were right," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I didn't want to be seen with you because you weren't a cheerleader or popular, because you hung out with E.T. Fitz." I pulled away from him and stared up at his face, thinking I hadn't heard him right. He couldn't say this now, not after he'd proven that theory wrong.

"But I couldn't not see you either," he said. "When I went to your dad's car lot and saw you walk out of the shop behind 208

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him toward me, something inside me just popped." He shook his head. "That never happened to me before."

"You mean the busted ice feeling," I said. Luke opened his eyes and looked at me. "So you felt it too?"

I shrugged. He grinned. Then his smile dropped.

"I felt so guilty. I was sure you'd figure it out."

"Which I did," I interrupted.

He nodded. "I knew you'd realize I was too ashamed to be seen in public with you but I still wanted to be around you. I'm not sure what I thought I was trying to do. Make some kind of secret girlfriend out of you, I guess. I even tried to make it up to you by telling you about my poems."

"Yep, the poem thing finally caught me up," I said. Luke shook his head slowly and stepped back. He raised guilty eyes to mine. I thought it should hurt more than this, to hear something like that from him, but when he said, "Do you think you can ever forgive me?" I didn't feel any pain. Instead, I thought about how Luke stood up in the middle of an all-school assembly and defended me to the principal, publicly associating himself with me.

I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him all over his face, but being me of course, I had to tease him first. My hands were still in his and I stared at our connected fingers for a moment. When I looked up, it was hard, but I managed to keep a stern face.

"Well," I said with a sigh, "I can only think of one thing you could do to make it up to me."

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He nodded earnestly and looked ready to do just about anything. "What?"

"You have to let me drive your car." Luke's face was frozen for a moment and then it broke into the widest grin I'd ever seen. His dimples flashed and his hands broke from mine so he could throw his arms around me and squeeze tight.

"Deal," he said into my ear.

I gripped my eyes shut and hugged him back, letting go of every fear and insecurity I ever had. I don't know how long we held each other there on the sidewalk. But we didn't stop even when a car drove by.

"Take me to the lake party tonight," I said, with my arms still folded around his neck.

"You're grounded," he reminded me.

"So? I'll sneak out."

Fingers tightened in my hair. "No." He pulled back so he could see my face. Then he shook his head. "I'm not giving your parents one more reason to hate me."

"They don't hate you."

But he didn't look convinced. "Ever since they found out about the wine, they can't look at me without glaring." I bit my lip and touched his face. "I think that's just because of Marty and Abby. Since Marty had a close call, they think they've got to keep tabs on me now." Luke frowned. "But I won't—"

"I know," I said, holding up a hand. "You don't have to convince me."

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He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and sighed instead. Hooking his arm with mine, he turned us toward my house and started walking me home again. "I guess Marty and Abby broke up, then?" I snorted. "Didn't you notice the way Abby kept asking that basketball player out this week? What's his name?

Zane."

Luke shrugged and kicked at a rock, sending it flying off the sidewalk. "Maybe they're just going through a rough time since the misunderstanding over her pregnancy." I remembered the expression on my brother's face, the complete torture when he looked up at me and said, "They didn't even ask."

"They're done," I said bluntly.

Luke glanced at me sharply. He suddenly jumped in front of me and stopped, jarring me to a halt. "Tell me it's possible they might end up happily ever after. Even if you think it's a slim one, I want you to admit there's a chance." I tilted my head up to study him. "Why?"

"Because if you admit there's hope for them, then you can admit there's hope for us when I go off to college next year." My heart shuddered then. I'd been trying to get used to the idea that there was even an us. Thinking of next year when I'd be a senior and he'd be away at college was new to me. Now I had a new worry. Great.

"If you're trying to compare us to them, then we're doomed."

Luke squeezed my hand. "Stranger things have happened," he said, trying to be bright. 211

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I bit my lip and glanced down at our joined hands. A month ago, I never would've thought I'd be walking home hand-in-hand with Luke Carter. But here I was, with my Luke, the one who wrote poetry and had a goofy overbite. I tried to focus on the joy of the moment, but he'd ignited this latest concern in me. Were we headed in the same direction Marty and Abby had been going?

"Are you riding with Nate to the lake tonight?" I said instead.

Luke shrugged and stared at the ground. "I don't even feel like going anymore." He looked up. "It doesn't sound fun."

"Well, if you go," I said, "watch Abby Eggrow for five minutes. Then you'll realize how totally over my brother she is."

Luke stopped at the edge of the car lot. He hugged me and then stepped back. "There's still hope," was all he said. He waved to my father who was over by a car talking to a customer, and then he spun away and started off. I watched him head back in the direction of the school, where he'd left his car parked. I watched him until I couldn't see him anymore. And I hoped as well. I hoped he was right and he'd still be interested in me a year from then. But the next day, Abby Eggrow was dead. And all hope felt gone.

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Chapter Sixteen

We got the call at two in the morning. The sheriff rang, needing Dad's towing service. The phone finally roused me from my dreams the second time it chimed, and I sat up in bed, still drowsy. The light in the hall flipped on and filled the crack under my door. Two pairs of footsteps moved down the hall. And then I heard Mom's voice over the phone. I crawled out of bed and hurried barefoot to the hallway. When I reached the living room, I saw Dad fully dressed and sitting on the loveseat, pulling on his shoes. Mom paced the length of the living room as she talked to the caller.

"Yes, Georgia. We've just received news from the sheriff. Dean's headed out there now with his tow truck...Oh, no. No!" She gasped and covered her mouth. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry—yes... I'm sure he would...Georgia, just calm down. Everything will be fine."

Mom hung up and hurried over to Dad. "Georgia's girl, Jill, was one of them, Dean. I told her you'd stop by and pick her up on your way." At Dad's frown, Mom clutched his sleeve.

"Please, darling. She's so worried and you know she's just going to drive out there by herself if you don't take her. In the state she's in, we'll have another accident on our hands." I jumped in then, having gathered enough information to make my own conclusions. "What's going on?" Mom and Dad jumped when they heard my voice but neither answered me. Dad gained his feet and Mom hurried to the closet to fetch his coat. They continued to ignore me as 213

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Mom quickly zipped Dad up. When she adjusted his collar, their eyes met. Dad sighed. "I'll pick her up on the way. But she's going to see things she shouldn't have to see." Mom rose on her toes to hug him tightly.

"Thank you," she said, and walked him to the door. "Be careful, Dean."

Dad turned back to kiss her, and then he was gone. Mom continued to stare out the front door. I came up beside her.

"What's going on?" I asked again. When Mom turned to me, I could tell she'd put on a brave front. But her hands were freezing when she took my fingers.

"Carrie," she said in a steady voice, "there's been an automobile accident on Still Road."

"And Jill was in it?"

She nodded.

"Is she OK?"

Mom closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know," she whispered. "The sheriff only told your father it was a bad wreck with two cars involved."

My stomach dropped. If Jill had been in the wreck, it must've been when she was coming home from the lake party. And if she'd been coming home, then she might've collided with someone else also going home. I suddenly needed to know if Luke had gone to that party.

"Who was in the other car?"

Mom shook her head. "I don't know," she repeated in a broken voice. "I have no idea how it happened. I have no idea what Jill was doing out at this time of night. I don't know anything, honey."

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"The lake party was tonight."

"What?" My mother's eyes flashed to mine and then she dragged me into a fierce hug. "Oh, thank God you're grounded." She buried her face in my hair. And that's when it hit me.

"Oh no." I squirmed against her. "No!"

"What is it, Carrie? Carrie?" She gripped my shoulders and pulled me back far enough to see my face.

"I heard Jill was going to go to the party with Abby." Mom had to sit down after that. Her face drained of color and she dragged me to the couch. We sat together and grasped each other's hands. "I don't think Marty was with her," I finally said.

My mother shook her head. "No," she agreed. "No, of course not. But if it was Abby, then someone's going to call him soon enough." She got to her feet and headed for the phone. "And I'd rather it be me." I watched her stand in the center of the kitchen, a bathrobe over her pajamas, pressing the phone to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up. "Come on, Martin," she said, starting to pace in her house slippers once again. "Answer the phone."

But Marty never answered.

Mom called once every hour. I knew because I stayed up with her. Even if I would've tried to go back to sleep, I wouldn't have been able to. The phone rang constantly throughout the night as rumors of the accident spread across town. With each call, Mom and I gained another piece of 215

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information. First, we found out the Wallaces had been in one car.

Mrs. Wallace had been having stomach pains all night and Dr. Wallace, her husband, finally decided to drive her to the hospital in Paulbrook. It ended up that Mrs. Wallace arrived in the hospital via an ambulance, only to discover she had a bad case of gas. She and Dr. Wallace had come through the wreck OK. One of the two had a broken arm, but that was the extent of their injuries.

When we discovered the Eggrow's car had indeed been the other automobile in the accident, Mom started calling Marty's house every half hour.

Dad didn't get home until six in the morning. By then, we already knew of Abby's death. We knew Georgia was still at the hospital with Jill and that Jill had gained consciousness only an hour before.

Dad was a mess. He collapsed on the couch and didn't move. Mom brought him hot coffee that he drank without speaking. No one mentioned the red stains on his jacket or the trembling in his hands.

When the sun came up, I saw the remains of the wreck sitting in our backyard by the shop. Both automobiles were totaled. Later, someone from Paulbrook's junkyard came for them, but before they arrived, I stared out the kitchen window and saw more than I wanted. I couldn't seem to turn away.

The front of the Wallace's red car was stripped bare. The radiator was dented toward the engine, where the car had Tboned the driver's side door of the Eggrow's Lexus. Red paint 216

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streaked the tan finish of the Lexus along with broken glass, and metal so mangled it looked more like crumpled paper. A deflated air bag draped over the front seat like a blanket. I wouldn't go outside to examine the damage, but I stared out at the MADD sticker on the bumper, feeling hollow. I was almost dizzy from the empty light-headedness. Abby Eggrow was dead. It was impossible to believe even as I stared at the proof.

Mom sat by Dad and rubbed his back as he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to forget what he'd seen. When the phone rang, neither of my parents moved, so I answered it.

"Carrie?"

I closed my eyes and sighed out a relieved breath as I heard Luke's voice.

"Hi," I answered. My voice sounded dull and lifeless...even to my ears.

"I didn't want to call too early," he said. "I was afraid to wake you."

"I haven't been asleep since two." Luke paused a moment. "So you know?" I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Are you OK?"

Again, I went to the window and stared out at the wreckage. "I don't know," I said. I wasn't sure what OK

meant anymore.

Luke blew out a breath. "I still can't believe it."

"Yeah." My eyes closed again. They were starting to hurt.

"We don't know where Marty is."

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"Really?"

I found a chair at the kitchen table, dropped into it, and rubbed my temples. "Mom's been trying to call him all night. We don't know where he is."

"I could drive around and see if I spot his truck anywhere," Luke said.

My hands started to shake. "That would be nice."

"I'll come over and see you afterward."

"No," I said.

"Carrie." His voice was forceful even though it quivered a little. "I need to see you."

"This isn't a good time," I said.

"Please."

I rested my head on the table and tried to steady myself.

"Could you give me a few days? I just...I just need some time to straighten this mess in my head."

Luke said nothing for a time. I didn't think he was even going to respond. But finally he said, "I'll wait." And then he quietly hung up the phone.

I stayed there, with my head down, letting the chilly tabletop cool my cheeks. Dad was finally talking to Mom in the living room. I could hear their hushed voices. Suddenly, I had to get out of there. I had to find my brother. I just had to do something.

I left through the back door and ran all the way to Marty's house. It felt good to have the cold December air rushing through my lungs. When I reached the house next door to the funeral home, I was panting. My ears burned they were so 218

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cold and I had a cramp in my side, but I felt better. I felt cleansed.

Marty's truck wasn't parked in his driveway. That was bad news but not surprising. I thundered up the porch and charged inside. In the front room, I found Austin, E.T., and Trevor sitting in a row on the couch. They were watching a funny movie on the television, yet none of them laughed. Three sober expressions landed on me when I threw open the door. E.T. lifted a limp hand and gave me a solemn wave. He tried to smile, but it died before it reached his eyes.

"Where's my brother?" I said.

All three of them shrugged.

"He was gone by the time I got off work this morning," Austin said.

"We can't go home," Trevor piped up. I stared at him and E.T. explained. "It's a real mess over there. People keep coming in and out and Mom and Dad can't get anything done."

It struck me then that Abby's body was right next door. I shivered.

Where was Marty?

The ending words of "Amazing Grace" drifted into the air. Dabbing a tissue at her eyes, Brenda Newell stepped back with the rest of the choir. And Pastor Curry came forward. He stood in front of the closed coffin quietly for a few moments. His Adam's apple slowly slid up and then jerked back down. It was a Monday morning and tiny flakes of snow were starting to fall. They melted as soon as they hit the brown earth, but it was enough to make everything damp. Wind 219

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fluttered the dampness around and small water droplets clung to leaves and coats and faces.

A picture of Abby flittered through my mind: dressed in her cheerleading uniform at the football homecoming, holding her red and white pompoms behind her, stretching up on her toes and whispering into Marty's ear. His lids had lowered dreamily as she spoke to him. In my mind, she would be frozen that way for eternity, with her head close to his and her smile as youthful and bright as ever. I would grow old and wrinkly, and she'd stay that perky cheerleader. She was John Keats reincarnated:

* * * *

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; I thought of Marty.

I never found him that Saturday when I'd searched so frantically. Eventually, Mom and Dad set out to look for him too. But he was gone. We worried all weekend until Dad finally said, "He's OK. The boy just needs some time alone, and we should give it to him." So that's what we gave him. Time.

I looked at the flowers surrounding Pastor Curry. Long white lilies with a healthy wet glow sat on top of the box. A smaller bouquet of roses was nestled in the middle of them, and a ribbon ran across the stems, saying, "We love you, Abby" in navy blue letters.

Pastor Curry swept a hand through the air over the casket.

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That's when it really hit me. My fingers shook as I covered my mouth with them. The wind blew goose bumps onto my arms, but I felt so hot. My stomach revolted and bile rose in my throat. I wiped my nose on my soggy coat sleeve. I don't know if I was being loud, but there was so much weeping and moaning around me, it engulfed me. No one would've noticed a small hiccup from me.

"...And this tragic accident is no one's fault," the pastor said. "Sometimes, the Lord just takes blessed people because they've filled their purpose early. Everyone plays their own song. They sing their story to the world and leave behind a melody of memories. Sometimes...their song is cut short and ends too early. But that doesn't mean their music was any less sweet or that they left any less of an impression." I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes tight as Pastor Curry said a prayer. Please find my brother. Please help Marty.

When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I lifted my face and glanced back.

There he was.

He'd just arrived. His hair was still wet from a shower and his black suit was a little rough, but he'd cleaned up as best he could. His face was pale—so very pale. I moved aside to let him up with our family and he slid in between Mom and me.

I glanced around to see who'd noticed him and found many faces were glancing toward the Paxton boy who'd almost gotten Abby Eggrow pregnant. But to me, my brother suddenly looked tall and handsome.

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I was beyond proud of him. I took his hand and his fingers bit into mine because he held on so tight. I saw Luke then. He was standing closer to the casket than we were, not too far from the Eggrows and the Gettys. His eyes were on me, and when he saw me notice him, he nodded. His mouth smiled encouragingly to me, but there were tears in his eyes.

I heard my brother whimper. When I looked up, I discovered his face was no longer white, but bright red. His lips shook and his nostrils flared as his breathing accelerated. His gaze fixated on the closed casket. Huge drops of moisture gathered at the corner of his eyes.

Mom touched his sleeve and looked up at him with concern. Marty glanced at her, whispering, "I don't think I can do this."

Dad moved from my side and came up behind him. He touched Marty's back and said, "You don't have to be strong, son. We're here for you."

That's all the encouragement Marty needed. He clenched his eyes shut and folded, bending at the waist and letting his head fall forward. Dad caught him from behind before he hit the ground. He turned Marty around and embraced him, fitting his son to his chest and holding Marty's head with his hand. I watched Marty's arms go around Dad and his hands bunch fistfuls of Dad's jacket.

Dad looked to Mom and me then, and we instantly moved in, surrounding Marty in a protective shell. Dad opened his arms enough to gather all of us into his embrace. And right there in the middle of the cemetery—in the middle of the 222

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gathering of Stillburrow citizens—my family formed one huge hug and wept together.

I rested my head on Marty's back and listened to his sobs as they echoed through his chest. My parents' arms bound me to them. I had never felt so close to these people I'd shared my whole life with, as I did just then. As my parents cried because of their son's pain, I realized I had never loved them so much. This was my family.