Not Lucky People

Tim fixed his eyes on the road ahead. He wanted to look over at Lyla, but he knew what he would find—her eyes locked on the road as well, her jaw clenched just like his was.

He had just walked into the cafeteria when he saw a look on her face that scared him.

"What's the matter, Lyla?" he asked as he walked up to her. She was holding her cell phone and looking like she had that night on the field—that night that Jay got hurt.

She looked up at him and frowned. "Uh…"

"What is it?" he asked again. "Is it Jason?"

They never talked about him anymore. Heck, he didn't talk to Lyla anymore. He didn't talk to Jason—it was like they had never been friends at all.

Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. Her hand rose up and brushed them away.

"What happened, Lyla?"

"It's Jason," she replied. "That was the coach, from the quad rugby try-outs. They took him to the hospital. Jason's parents, they went up to Nebraska for some family thing. I don't know what to do…"

Tim reached over and took Lyla's backpack from her shoulder. "My truck's in the lot. Let's go."

He got on the interstate and started driving. Thoughts of his latest speeding ticket and the bench warrant slipped from his mind as he pushed the needle higher and higher, racing down the road.

"Do you…" Tim paused and cleared his throat. "Do you know which hospital? Where it's at?"

Lyla looked down at the slip of paper she was clutching in her hand, then looked over at Tim. "Uh, St. David's. It's downtown, I think."

Tim shifted on the seat and glanced over at her. "Did they say what happened?"

"Uh, it was hard to understand him. His phone was breaking up and he hasn't answered again. He just said that there was an accident and they were taking Jason to the hospital."

Tim nodded and pressed down again on the accelerator. Two hundred miles to go.

Tim pulled up in front of the hospital emergency room and put the truck in park. "Just go, Lyla. I'll park and find you."

She paused for a moment and then opened the truck door. She stopped and looked at him, the panic clear on her face.

"He's going to be fine," Tim said. "It's Jay. He'll be alright."

Lyla looked at him, then laughed. "Yeah, Tim—he's alright, I mean other than that broken neck he got last fall, he's been just fine. Don't you understand? Bad things happen to us now. We're not lucky people any more."

"Just get in there, Lyla," Tim replied, not knowing what else to say.

He watched her run into the hospital, then looked around. A BMW was backing out of a space marked "reserved for medical director". The car pulled down the street. Tim considered it, then pulled the truck into the spot, jumped out and headed for the hospital, running to catch up with Lyla.

"Jason Street. He was at the quad rugby national try-outs at UT."

Tim walked up as Lyla tried to get some information from the nurse at the desk.

"He's a quadriplegic—you must have seen him come in!" Lyla shouted, her voice getting excited.

"Spinal cord injuries would not be referred to this hospital, miss," the nurse responded as she looked down at her list of admitted patients. "This is not a level one trauma center."

"Uh, his neck is already broken," Tim added, trying to help. "He'd probably come in with his wheelchair. They told us this is where they were taking him."

"Lyla."

Tim and Lyla turned to find Herc behind them.

"Where is he? What happened?" Lyla asked, looking down the hall behind the rugby player.

"He's down there waiting for the doctor to discharge him," Herc said, pointing down the hall. "Second door on the right."

Lyla pushed past Herc and headed for Jason's room.

"So, they're discharging him," Tim said. "Must not be anything too serious."

Herc looked Tim up and down. "So, are you the cheating bastard?"

Tim shot him a half smile and a quick laugh. "That what he told you?"

"See, this is what I don't get," Herc began. "You dumped Tyra for that one?" he asked, as he gestured in the direction Lyla had gone. "Clearly you have your priorities all messed up."

"That's fascinating, dude, but what happened to Jay?" Tim asked impatiently.

"Took a hard hit. It knocked him out. He was fine by the time they got him here, but you know doctors—they wanted to check him out pretty thoroughly."

"But he's okay?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, a good lump on the back of his head, but he'll be fine," Herc replied as Tim walked past him and headed toward the exam room.

"But you're sure you're fine?" Lyla was saying as she leaned over the bed, brushing her hand across Jason's face.

Tim walked in the door and stopped next to the gurney. "You okay, Jay?"

Jason looked up at him. "What are you doing here, Riggins?"

"He brought me…they called and your parents were gone and…" Lyla said.

"Oh," Jason responded. "I don't know why you came all the way over here. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Street and when they called they didn't know how bad it was. She was scared. You get that?" Tim said, his voice rising.

"Hey, Tim, why don't you just wait…" Lyla began.

"No, I think he needs to hear it, Lyla. I know we're the ones who are the bad guys, or at least I am, but at some point you need to take your share of the responsibility, Street," Tim interjected. He pointed to Lyla. "She loves you and she worries about you and she wants to make a life with you, but you're all focused on what you want and what you need. She wants to go to college with you and you won't even come back to school. Instead you're over here in Austin chasing some fool dream and you can't even do that without scaring her half out of her mind."

"It's not a fool dream," Jason responded angrily. "It's not like you thinkin' you'd be in the NFL or something. I can do this."

"Yeah, you probably can, Street, but do you honestly think that six months after you break your neck you're on the Olympic team going to China? Maybe in four more years. They're just doin' what Mr. Oates was doin' in biology—no one expects that from you right now."

"So, Tim, what would you have me doin' instead?" Jason spat back. "Range of motion exercises and laps in the therapy pool?"

"No. I'd have you comin' back to school and being with Lyla—trying to give her some kind of normal senior year. Don't you think she wants you at the games, supporting her; hell supporting all of us? We were your teammates. Don't any of us matter anymore? What about Coach?"

"That's not for me, anymore, Timmy. That's not my life anymore," Jason answered quietly.

"Well, then maybe you have to suck it up, Jason Street," Tim responded. "Because if you care about her, about Lyla, then you should think about what she needs and what her dreams are for once instead of always just thinking about yourself. I know what she was plannin' to do next year and she doesn't have to follow you to whatever school offers you the best deal. Maybe you want to follow her, or maybe—shocker—you might want to make a decision together that's the best for both of you."

No one said anything for a moment, then Lyla stepped forward. "I should go find the doctor and see if you can get out of here."

"I'll go," Tim responded and turned to leave.

"You're right."

Tim stopped at the sound of Jason's voice and turned back. "What do you mean?"

"You're right. I'm a selfish bastard. And you're a world class asshole, Riggs, but maybe that's why we became friends to begin with."

"I wasn't blowing smoke up your ass when I said that the three of us could get through anything," Tim replied.

Lyla reached over and took Jason's hand. "I hate seeing the two of you like this and knowing it was because of me." She reached her other hand out for Tim.

Tim looked at her hand in Jason's and then up to his friend's eyes. Their eyes locked and he paused for a moment, then walked over and took her hand in his left hand. With his right he reached for Jason's free hand and wrapped his large palm around Jason's curled fingers.

"I just want my friends back," Tim said, his voice breaking. "I don't—I don't know how to do it without you."

Jason pulled his hand from Tim's and laid it on top of Tim's hand, rubbing it back and forth, slightly.

"Me too," Jason answered. "Me too."

FIN

Feedback gratefully received and acknowledged at rachel _wilder@hotmail.com