New Romantics

Chapter 13

Warm, golden light glowed from my bedside lamp. Snuggling deeper into the soft, pink blankets piled around me, I inhaled and exhaled slowly, deeply, and reminded myself again that I was safe. Alive.

Today would be the first day I ever missed class at OU. Doctor's orders.

"Ochem can wait," she said the morning after the accident, as the EMTs called it, handing me a stack of paperwork that included a discharge summary and notes to my professors. The only injuries I sustained were bruises on my hips and shoulders, and friction burns on my knees and forearm. I was lucky. Instinct—and kernel of information from a Shark Week special—told me to swim horizontally, allowing the lifeguard to ultimately save me from a watery end.

But even as I left the hospital, sat in Dani's car, and leaned on Sasha as we braved the stairs up to our apartment, my skin quivered from the cold rush of the ocean waves tugging, twisting, and turning me. When I closed my eyes, I was back, fighting against an enemy I couldn't name. Salt burned the tip of my tongue. My chest heaved. Panic crept into my blood like poison. If I didn't know any better, it could have all been a near-death hallucination, and I could wake up to the darkness of the ocean again.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. Sasha and Dani crept into my room on feather-light feet, braced to leave if I were still asleep.

Sleep. Ha.

"Hi, boo," Sasha said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Sitting up, I winced. "Fine... I just got off the phone with my parents. They're flying in on Wednesday."

My parents, of course, were beside themselves when they learned of the accident from Dani. They knew nothing of the alcohol. Only that it was a beach-day gone awry and I was okay. I insisted they stay in California. We could FaceTime whenever they wanted. Arrangements were made with Magda and my professors to give me time to rest and recover.

Flights were too expensive. I knew, just as I'd known since I was little and heard my parents argue about money, they couldn't afford it. But Mom, with her sweetly soft voice, refused to believe a word I said until she saw me—her baby—whole and safe with her very own eyes.

"You haven't touched your soup, Aria," Dani scolded, grabbing the now-cold bowl of chicken noodle soup on the nightstand. The warm, dim light danced on the planes of her deep brown cheeks, and she tossed me her best attempt at a stern look. "You need to eat something. You haven't had anything since—since—"

The hot dogs we ate in the parking lot twenty-four hours ago.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that the salt water left this awful taste in my mouth that won't go away. It's making everything taste like battery acid."

I hated the worry and exhaustion lining her face. Dani only left the chair at my bedside twice last night: once to call my parents and once to use the restroom. "You need to get your strength up, sweetie. You'll feel so much better."

Sasha nodded with agreement.

"How about..." I began. "We do Thai food? Watch a movie? Not that I don't appreciate the soup, Dani."

Sasha and Dani perked up.

"Say no more!" Sasha said, waving her hands. "I'll order! Dani, you come with me! And Aria! Pick whatever you want to watch. We should be back in an hour tops. Try to eat a small snack. No pressure. You know how busy Lemongrass Grill can be."

Their excitement was contagious. Grinning, I nodded my head and promised to find something great. With renewed enthusiasm, my roommates left the apartment in a berry and vanilla-scented tornado, and I fell back into my pillows, feeling lighter already.