Teegan

He's not okay.

   This is the text I get from Cohen, at 2A.M. 

   I don't sleep that night. I lay awake, worrying about Rex and Cohen and wondering why I even left the hospital. I text back and ask if he's alive, and if he's going to wake up, but Cohen doesn't reply.

   In the morning, I tell my mom what I know. She agrees to let me take the van back to Santa Maria, and when I pull into the hospital parking lot again, my heart is beating way too fast. Cohen hasn't answered a call or texted me back since that 2A.M. text.

   Cohen, I'm outside. Please. Answer me.

   Nothing, even after thirty minutes. I check my phone every few minutes in case I miss it. It feels like none of this is real. I can't just walk into the hospital and ask for Rex. His parents don't know me. I need Cohen to answer me.

   Cohen, I drove back here and I want to be here for you. Please.

   I sit in the van and wait. Something is telling me to continue to wait, but two hours later, he still hasn't answered. He has seen the texts. I've called, and he's not answering. After a good cry, I drive back to Avila.

   This feeling of helplessness is not something I've felt before. My mom doesn't know what to do or say, so she just mostly leaves me alone. I spend the afternoon and evening packing up my stuff. It feels unreal, not only that I'm packing up and leaving this place I've called home all summer, but that Cohen is ignoring me. It's almost 8P.M. when there's a knock on my door.

   I'm laying on the bed, my eyes closed but I can't sleep. I don't answer so the door opens.

   "Hi, Teegan." It's Oscar.

   His little face looks at me and then around the room. The two suitcases are on the floor, packed up and closed. It doesn't look or feel like my bedroom anymore and he sees that.

  "Hey," I manage to say, pushing my body up to sitting.

  "Mom said you're sad today. I just wanted to give you a hug before I go to bed." His voice is quiet and he's staying back.

  "Oh. Thanks," I tell him, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

   Oscar comes closer and jumps up onto the bed, hugging me a moment later. It only lasts a minute and then he looks at me for a long minute before hopping down again.

   "I hope tomorrow is better," he says and then leaves the room.

   He's six years old. He knew what I needed without making me talk or even think about anything. I still feel overwhelmingly sad and the unknown is the worst, but somehow that hug made my feel a little better.

   An hour later, I finally get a text from Cohen. I kept telling myself he just needed some space and time and that things would be okay. But this text doesn't make me feel any better, either.

   He made it out of surgery but he's in a coma.

   None of this makes sense. Rex is the sweetest, friendliest, awesome guy. He's smart and he's supposed to play football in college. In a few days. He's not supposed to be in the hospital, in a coma.

   I force my fingers to type back a reply.

   Tell me if you need anything. I can be there anytime.

   By now it's been almost twenty four hours since I've seen Cohen. I dropped him off at the hospital after midnight Friday night and now it's Saturday evening, after 9P.M. I don't know what to expect from him now, but I'm feeling more and more like there's no way I can leave Avila on Monday morning.

   This is not how this was supposed to happen.

   "Mom?" I sort of yell, coming down the stairs.

   I have pretty much ignored her and the kids today so I am hoping now that she is around to talk. I know the kids are in bed. I don't know what I'll say to her, but I need her.

   She appears from her office and walks into the kitchen, where I'm standing. I feel lost. I haven't really eaten. My stomach growls loudly and she looks surprised, somehow.

   "Hey, honey. Any word?"

   I shake my head and look over at the fridge. "Only that Rex made it out of surgery and he's in a coma."

   "Oh, damn it. I'm sorry, Teeg." She crosses the room and opens the fridge, pulling out the bread. "Toast?"

   I nod and pull out the chair. "How Cohen is shutting me out is so... it doesn't feel right," I admit.

   She turns back and looks at me. "Some people handle tragedy in different ways."

   "Yeah. I just... I don't think I can leave on Monday."

   Her back is to me as she drops the bread into the toaster, but I see her freeze and think before she replies. "Teegan, your flight is booked back to Seattle so you have time to get packed up and head to-"

   "I know."

   "Changing your flight will likely just put more stress on you and your dad," she goes on.

   "Yeah. But I just know Cohen needs me here." The words come easily and now that my mom is looking at me, I can tell she understands.

   "If you are sure... you'll have to call and tell your dad." It's like she's giving me a chance to change my mind.

   I nod, as the toasts pops up. "I know," I say again.

   We sit together for the next half an hour, both of us eating toast. I have a glass of water before saying goodnight and heading back up to my room. Even though I packed up my clothes and most of my personal items, it still feels like my bedroom as I walk in. The smell is so familiar, from my body spray and my shower gel. I haven't thought about my bedroom back in Seattle, the bedspread I picked out before Christmas, the photos on the walls of me and my friends. Something changed in me this summer and not knowing how I'll feel going back to Seattle is scary, too.

   I can't sleep, once again. I try texting Cohen a few times between midnight and 2A.M., but he doesn't reply. I finally close my eyes and beg sleep to take over, and open my eyes at 5:33A.M. as my phone is ringing.

   It's Cohen.

   "Hello?" I answer, then add, "Cohen."

   "...Teegan. God, Teeg." He sounds completely drained, like he's fighting for air.

   "Cohen? Are you okay?" I ask, even though I know it's a dumb question. "Is Rex..."

   "He's got machines breathing for him. And all these tubes and things..." Cohen's voice feels so far away.

   "He's still alive," I say, hoping it's what he needs to hear.

   Cohen is quiet for minute, and I am just praying he's still on the line.

   "I'm scared," he finally says.

   "Yeah, I know. I'm here, though. If you need me."

   "You're leaving. Tomorrow. And..." His voice trails off.

   "Cohen, I'm-"

   "I have to go," he says quickly and then the call drops.

   If I wasn't sure before, now I am. I'm not leaving.

   I wait until 8A.M. before I call my dad. I'm showered and drinking my coffee. Oscar and Josie are in the living room, playing a game. I can hear their happy, sweet voices as my phone rings in my ear.

   "Teegan, hey. I didn't think I'd hear from you today," my dad answers, after just a couple of rings.

   "Hey. Yeah, I... um... I just wanted to call and let you know..." Why is this so hard for me to say?

   "Teegan? Everything okay? We can't wait to see you. Man, it's been such a long time." He's cheerful and excited and he has no idea what's coming.

   "I'm not getting on my flight, tomorrow," I spit out.

   Silence meets my ears, and then he clears his throat. "Um, what?"

   "Dad, I'm sorry. I know this is going to be really complicated and you won't understand, but-"

   "Teegan, the flight's been booked for weeks. And you have a lot to do before next Sunday, when you leave for New York," he reminds me. "The summer's over."

   "I know that. It's just..." Do I tell him? About Cohen, and Rex and how I can't imagine leaving this place?

   "I'm really glad you had a good time, honey," he says, assuming I just want a few more days at the beach.

   "No. It's... my boyfriend, he needs me here. His best friend is-"

   "Boyfriend? Oh, Teegan, please don't make this so difficult." Now he's being condescending, which is new.

   "Dad, I'm just going to call and change the flight for a few days later. I'll let you know when it is, okay?" I tell him anyway.

   I hear him sigh before he starts his rebuttal. "Teegan, I really don't think-"

   "I'll call you again soon," I cut in, and end the call.