“Every story has an ending.” -Anonymous

I’ve always loved that quote. And I never realized how painful and beautifully true that was until last month. Last month was the anniversary of the car crash. Maika was texting and driving and crashed the car into a tree. Our car folded like an accordian around the tree trunk, making Lana hit her head and sending her into a coma while Maika had to get a few stitches right above her eyebrow. I was sitting in the back seat and I walked away fine, no harm done. I wonder if Lana’s family blames me, which they say they don’t. They blame Maika instead.

I rub my eyes as if warding off a bright light, and stand up from my chair in the waiting room. The ICU is the second worst floor in a hospital. The first is the heart attack floor. I punch the up button for the elevator, and a nice woman with a baby has to ask me five times where I’m going before I hear her. “I don’t know,” I say softly. She presses the button for the maternity ward. A floor of happy pregnant ladies that look like their about to burst, where their only worry is if their outfit matches their newborn’s onesie. I decide to stay here and take a nap. A fake nail jabs me in the arm right as I fall asleep surrounded by squealing mommies and daddies. “Miss, who are you waiting for? You can’t stay here.” A security guard stares me in the face until I get up and walk towards the elevator. I take the elevator back to the ICU.

Lana’s aunt is pacing the floor crying, and her husband’s arm is around her shoulders. I take a detour to the bathroom. Comforting crying people has never been my strongest suit. I sneak into the bathroom quietly, wanting to be alone right now, but it’s not. I set my purse on the sink, not caring if the expensive leather gets waterlogged. If it does I can buy another one. I brush out my sun-bleached blond hair and rub some concealer on the dark circles under my eyes. Looking into the mirror, I break down. I start crying, holding the counter for support. Why did this have to happen to Lana? Why not me? I hold my purse by the straps and hurl it against the wall and hear something shatter. Was it my bottle of Chanel 5? I sure hope not. That bottle of perfume was expensive. I wipe my face on some scratchy brown paper towels and go get my purse, dreading to see what broke, but then reminding myself that I can buy more. I start to open my purse and notice a flash of gold. I reach down and pick up a pair of horribly mangled Gucci gold aviators. With one of the temples broke off. And a lens popped out. I sigh and stand back up. Those were fragile to begin with.

On second thought…I lift my leg up and smash the glasses onto the cold linoleum floor that’s streaked with black scuff marks and toilet paper. They shatter, and I feel so much better now that I have taken all of my anger out on a $5,000 pair of sunglasses. I walk out of the bathroom and run straight into Lana’s aunt. “Hey, sweetie.” She pats my arm and hands me a set of keys. “Do me a favor and run to the house and get Sam’s backpack. She left it in her room.” She explains which keys are which, and while I’m walking outside, I run right into Maika. “Hey, how’s she doing?” Tears pave foundation roads on her cheeks. “She’s deteriorating. She’s getting worse by the hour.” I lean in. “Don’t you dare go back there. That’s the last thing they need.” Maika turns and runs, her long black hair streaming behind her like one of those flags that gymnasts toss. I don’t feel bad. When I finally locate Carol’s Porche, I stick the key in the ignition and…”Hi. Carol. I. Am. Ready. To. Take. You. To. Your. Destination. Where. Are. You. Going. Today?” A robot voice talks to me. I press down on the button that says TALK. “My name is Bentley. Take me to HOME.” The Porche starts right up and the GPS starts on the touch screen. My father has a better car. It’s a Lamborghini Veneo, and it’s so expensive that you have to have a waiting list just to get one. I drive down the street, cautiously checking for cars. Ever since the wreck, I’ve been super cautious about my driving. “We. Have. Arrived. Bentley. To. HOME.” The car talks back to me, which is still kind of weird.

I lock the car as I get out of it and walk down the driveway and punch the code into the gate, which lets me in. Once I get to the front door I have to enter in ANOTHER code and then I am free to walk in the house. I walk past the busts of Beethoven, the expensive china cabinets, the 55′ flat screen TV, and climb the stairs. I go into Lana’s room first, grabbing her iPod, her favorite books, the book she was reading, her laptop, and her cell phone. I put these in a backpack that I see lying on her floor, and then go into Sam’s room and grab her backpack. I walk down the stairs, enjoying the way the light reflects off of the crystal chandeliers, and into the kitchen. There, in the 60’s style kitchen, I make sandwiches for all of the kids, and grab juice boxes. Poor kids have been living off of school cafeteria food and hospital garbage. Then, taking a second look around for anything that I have missed, I walk straight out the door. I lock the gates behind me and drive to the hospital. The nurses give me nasty looks as I walk by, but I’m used to it. I’m an IT girl. I always have been. You know that line from Mockingjay? “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”? That’s me. I’m used to those dirty looks and sabotage.

I walk into Lana’s hospital room and reach over her to Jules, handing her a turkey club. I grab Lana’s hand, and make polite chitchat with everyone, and then, in a move so sudden and soft that I would’ve missed, she squeezes my hand. I jump, yanking my hand out of hers, and Lana’s eyelids start to flutter. “Bentley?” Lana sits up. Everyone starts screaming and hugging her and Lana’s uncle goes to get the nurse. I never thought that Lana would wake up, none of us did. But here we are. Stuck in this moment that seems so finite…But also so infinite…And I wouldn’t change a single thing.