Til Death Do Us Part

36

“She’s lucky to be alive, and it’s a miracle given the state she was in. A few days here, and she can get out, but I want to observe her first. She has hypothermia, and the symptoms overlap with a concussion, so I can’t tell how bad the knock on her skull is. Her head wound seems minor, but I’m not out ruling it. She has a warm saline drip and oxygen for now, but I think she’s out of the woods. It was a long night.” A man’s voice reaches me in my sleep state, aware I’m somewhere soft and warm, but I have no memory of how I got here. The last thing I remember is the girl who pulled me off the road.

“I thought she was a goner, doc. You didn’t see her when I pulled up.” My angel’s voice that I would recognize anywhere, bringing me around. I owe her my life. “I don’t know what the hell happened to her out there.”

“I don’t think she would have lasted any longer out there. She’s been in and out of consciousness but not much talking yet. If she gets worse, I’ll transfer her to the mainland as we’re not equipped to deal with major issues here, but I’m crossing my fingers that she will be okay. You did good and found her in time, Greta.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you get back to it and go sit with her.”

I shift in my bed, aware of my own body, and although I’m still groggy and tired, I manage to open my eyes and stare at the white ceiling above me without excruciating head pain. Their words ring around my head, and I exhale heavily, trying to clear my throat, but it’s like I’m swallowing razor blades.

“You’re awake.” Her cheery voice pulls my eyes to her, standing in the doorway and beaming at me with the friendliest of smiles. In the new light of day, she’s much prettier than I remember. Around my height, about five foot five, slim but athletic, and has mousy brown chin-length hair in a soft bob that frames her face with feathery bangs. She has the bluest of eyes, like a tropical sea, and dimples when she smiles. She’s dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt that gives her a shapeless figure, and yet there’s something adorable about her. She has a youthful energy.

“I brought fruit.” She waves a little basket around and then lays it on a table by the door before coming to my bedside. She seems more feminine now than she did last night, and looking at her; I have no idea how she carried my bodyweight to that truck. I’m beyond grateful to her. She doesn’t look like she could drag me, let alone carry me, and I find myself sizing her up and wondering what the hell she eats.

I strain to sit up, spotting the tubes in my arms and try not to flex them too much, struggling, and she moves fast to assist me.

“Here, let me, you’re still poorly, baby gurl” She levers me up and plumps and arranges my cushions behind me, so they help me sit a little and chin gestures to the water jug beside me.

“You need some?” She asks helpfully, and I nod, my mouth is so dry it feels like I’ve been licking chalkboards, and it might soothe my throat. I don’t know why that’s so bad unless it’s because of swallowing saltwater and throwing up a lot. I make to talk, but it’s painful, and all I can do is smile weakly when she helps me sip a few mouthfuls from a paper cup.

“So, mystery lady, doc says you should be just fine after some rest. He said that there’s nothing major, but you resemble a human pin cushion. What, were you rolling around in smashed glass? Luckily none of them are too deep and won’t scar.” She smiles a sunny expression that lights up her whole face as she puts the cup back and crosses her hands on the rail of my bed.

“I crashed…” I force it out and cough immediately with the effort. Wanting to be polite as she’s my first guest and my savior, but I’m not too great yet.

“Where? There was not a single car in sight? Did you walk to that road? I never passed anything. Suppose you tell me where I can find out and get it towed. We need to make a police report.”

“No…… peak point.” I exhale with my words this time and slump back down, so tired from saying less than half a dozen. The thought of police makes my head hurt.

“Peak what? Is that a place? I’ve never heard of it? Is it on the map?” She c***s her brow at me, and I frown back at her, equally confused. Not sure if she’s joking because everyone knows what Peak point is. It’s a well-known tourist spot, and the city spends thousands to promote it monthly. We even did an ad commercial up there for OLO.

“Up the mountain.” I try again and get the same blank expression.

“We don’t have any mountains on this island.”

“Wait, what?” it’s my turn to be confused, and it takes a moment to process it. My brain is going into overdrive.

“An island?….. I came from the city…. I….” my head throbs painfully, and I lift my hand to press my temple, starting to piece together that I really did get cast out to sea, and I have no idea where I even ended up. “I drove off Peak point…..fell into Drythe river, and ended up here.”

“Holy s**t, batman. Drythe river is like….. not even here. You must have come from the north current that pushes warmer water to our south shores. By sea, that’s maybe fifteen or twenty miles or more. Are you telling me you washed up along the coast?”

“Yeah…” even saying it, it doesn’t seem real that’s actually what happened. The thought of it makes me shudder. I drifted that far on a god damn tree.

“Wow… you really are a miracle. How do you get from crashing your car on a mountain to ending up washed up by the sea and walking miles to one of the connecting roads? You know, right that you were still five miles away from here? This town sits on the north shore. If you walked the other way, it would have been further, and all you would have found was the weather station and harbor for the commercial vehicle ferry.”

There’s a long moment of silence as she thinks about that, yet it does sound like bullshit to me despite living through it. Five miles more before I would have found this place alone. I would never have made it. Apart from her and that truck, I didn’t see another car all day. I’m guessing this place has a low population with miles of road and no service stops, houses, or signs of life until you get here. Fate wasn’t ready to see me die.

“I guess you’re lucky I was coming home when I did. I had to pick up stock I had shipped in.”

I nod and reach for her fingers before patting her gently on the hand, grateful beyond words, and try for my warmest smile. Thinking about it is too exhausting, too emotional, and big right now, and I shake it out of my head.

“Thank you,” I murmur and get a soft smile in response.

I absorb the peacefulness of this white and sterile room and stare at her for a moment, trying to think through exactly what I do now. I’m safe, I just need to rest for a few days, and I should reach out and contact my family. God knows how long it’s been. I feel it’s rude to ask her to do it for me, so I should at least wait until I can walk about and pick up the phone for myself and explain everything to Mother.

“Do you have a name? Or is it a secret?” She fluffs my pillow and straightens the sheets over me, careful to move the saline tube out of the way with a gentle touch, and I watch her with a sense of calm.

“Soh…..” An instant hesitation is made obvious by the way my expression flickers to wide-eyed realization, and I snap my mouth shut. It dies on my lips as the sudden thought crosses my mind that if the media got hold of the details of what’s happened, they wouldn’t leave me alone.

I catch the dip of her brow, and she ponders my face as I remain quiet and don’t say anything else. It’s habitual, something even my parents trained into me, that should I ever end up in a situation that could cause news articles, I shouldn’t say who I am until I know I’m safe. Know the drama it might cause.

“So, it’s a secret?” she lifts a brow, and I hesitate and try to speak again, but that profoundly ingrained logic of a wealthy family who avoids scandals at all costs silences me. I’m not sure anyone should know who I am while here. The story would cause mayhem, and our stock prices would plummet over the genuine question of… who tampered with the car? How could I explain driving off a cliff? The media would pick suicide or attempted murder… neither is going to do OLO any good. Both raise questions, and Jyeon’s affair would come to light behind it all. I can’t do that to myself, him, our Mother, and Yoonah.

I haven’t even begun to process all of that yet, let alone figure out what to do now I’m okay. It’s not like this was a planned exit from my own life. I’m still suffering from a concussion and can’t seem to think straight as it is.

“Is this a case of memory loss, or are you deliberately hiding it?” She pokes fun at me, trying to read my expression, but I stay blank, even though it makes me feel shitty, given she literally saved my life. I’m in damage control mode, reverting to kind and thinking of OLO and Jyeon above everything. It’s what I was trained to do.

“I… Ummm…… I’m sorry. For now, please don’t ask.” I croak it out, and she narrows her eyes so they almost become slits in her face. I can read the very real curiosity and suspicion, but she grins it out. Letting it go and figuring I must have my reason. She seems to be a pretty laid-back soul and doesn’t push.

“Either you’re on the run, and you’re a wanted felon, or your famous and scared I sell your story to the papz….. Could go either way.” She says it lightly, pointing at me with two fingers in a funny way, as though she’s joking, but there’s a look in her eye as she straightens up that tells me she thinks it’s one or the other. I mean, she’s not all that far away from the truth.

“I’m tired.” I need headspace to think things through because I know by now someone has to know I’m gone. “Do you mind if I…” I don’t get the words out fully when she suddenly bursts into animated mannerisms.