nine;
what still remains.

✱ ✱ ✱

WHAT STILL REMAINS in my life if I stay? It was a question that at first was easy to answer. But, as each day in that hospital room passed by, the universe took more and more away from me, leaving me dangling by a thread as I hung between life and death. The string that had been keeping me from leaving had been the thought of having to leave my brother alone in the world without a family. But now, that string had been cut, and I wondered what was now keeping me from saying goodbye and moving on. It seemed like my time had come, I was almost ready to make my decision, but yet there was something tugging on my shirtsleeve, telling me to wait one more day.

And so I did. One more day. I told myself that was all I needed.

Day eight. Eight days since the moment my life had changed forever, since the course of my destiny had been thrown off track. I had watched my parents killed right in front of me. My body was broken, and the dream I'd had since I was a little girl had been ripped right out of my hands. And as if that wasn't enough, the most innocent soul, my beloved little brother, had been taken away. I kept thinking that it should've been me.

The choice was weighing on my heart night and day, and I couldn't tear my thoughts away from anything else. Each time Hannah came in to check my vitals, I would stand behind her and peek at the notes she was scribbling down. No cognitive processing. Extremely elevated blood pressure. High levels of carbon dioxide in the blood. Of course, none of it seemed to be affecting whether or not I would live or die. That was completely up to me. Some days, the decision seemed easier than others.

That evening was a particularly emotional one. Leaning against the wall farthest from my bed, I sat upon the cold floor of the hospital room, feeling as if my entire body's weight was concentrated in my head. It felt like my skull was being split in half, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the splitting headache. It was as if my body was finally starting to feel the effects of the crash. Either that, or my time on earth was coming to a painful end. Whichever it was, it was making me miserable.

Clara was sat in the chair next to the bed where my body laid. They had finally taken the oxygen mask off of my face, for I was no able to breathe without a ventilator. With eyes swollen shut and lips slightly parted, it was much clearer to see how the color was drained from my face and how purple and red bruises littered my cheeks and neck.

My friend had a chemistry textbook open in her lap, and she was scribbling equations on a piece of notebook paper, humming a quiet melody to herself that overlapped the beeping of the cardiac monitor. "Today in class, Mrs. Soter got onto me for singing too much in class. She's always been so sensitive to noise. I swear, even breathing too loudly sets her off."

I had been listening to Clara's mindless, one-party conversation for nearly an hour. She was catching me up on everything new going on at school, and I only half-listened, not being able to focus. My mind kept drifting, longing for my parents and my brother, wondering what was going to happen to me if I couldn't decide whether or not to stay.

"I remember when we were little and we would put on little concerts for our parents. I had that pink, plastic microphone and you played your dad's old guitar. The songs we made up were so dumb. I think my mom still has the video recordings of us." Clara continued on, taking a break from her homework. She set her pencil down and closed her book, placing it to the side as she leaned back in her chair.

I looked closely at my friend from across the room, the sweet memory of us as kids replaying in my mind. "You have always been such a good singer. We wanted to start our own group."

Clara's head perked up at my words, freezing for a moment as if she was listening to an echo or a faint noise. I almost wondered if she heard me, and I watched her carefully. Her head turned to where I was sitting against the wall, and her eyes met mine, my heartbeat rising. Eyes still on me, she said, "I also remember when you started playing the violin. You told me that when you got into Juilliard and became a famous violinist, you would have me sing at your concerts."

I smiled to myself, and Clara looked away, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. I saw small tears roll down her cheeks as she looked at my body laying in the bed.

"You know, Addie," She continued, her voice much more quiet now. I could see her biting her lip, getting choked up. "You will always be my best friend. No matter what happens. You always have wanted the best for me, supporting me through every time of my life. With all the ups and downs, you've been there. And I think to myself how awful a life without you would be. You bring so much light and love into the world, Addie, you are such a good person. Which is why you deserve to only live a life that makes you happy. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't support you in that?"

I sat up straighter. "What are you saying, Clara?" Eventually, I stood completely up, walking over and kneeling beside her chair. Her eyes stayed trained forward.

She continued to silently cry, using her sweater sleeves to wipe her face. "If you stay, you still have a family. My parents will take you in without hesitation. But..." She took a deep breath, "...if not, I understand. I understand if you want to leave. I don't want you to, but if that is what will make you happier, then it's okay. I love you no matter what. Even if you go, I will always be your best friend."

I reached forward, placing my hand over hers, even though she couldn't feel it. I pursed my lips, nodding my head. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

Her approval meant everything to me. Knowing that even if I left, she would still love me and be there for me tugged on my heart. It made the decision a little more easy, yet I was still stuck between two dates. At least I knew that no matter what, I would have the support of her. In life or in death. That still remained.

There was a light knock at the door, and both Clara and I looked over our shoulders to see Peter standing at the door of the room, a dark shadow barely illuminating his face as the sun began to set outside. Clara quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, but her face was still puffy. It was sad to watch my best friend cry over my barely breathing body, but even sadder to watch her try to mask her pain in order to protect Peter.

She stood up from the chair, giving him a solemn smile as he joined her at the side of the bed, looking at me in the bed. I watched from the ground on the other side of the chair, seeing him purse his lips and gulp, eyes immediately shifting into a state of sorrow when he saw my condition. "She looks like she is breathing better."

Clara nodded. "She is. I think she is really fighting."

"I am." I whispered.

Biting his lip, he looked from me to Clara. "Do you think she can hear us?"

Clara kept her eyes on my body, looking over it sadly. And then she nodded. "I think so."

Peter set his backpack down on the edge of the bed, unzipping it and pulling out a bouquet of pale, pink flowers. More peonies. This was the third one. He held them up to show Clara. "I brought her fresh flowers. The one in the vase are looking bad."

Clara's gaze went from the flowers to Peter's face, an I could see the tears start to glisten in her eyes again. She shook her head, letting her emotions spill from her eyes as she rested her head on Peter's shoulder. Her grief began to truly show as she cried heavily, her voice croaking with misery and angst. My heart broke more with each tear that rolled down her cheek.

Peter wrapped his arms around her, comforting her as she cried loudly. "It's going to be okay," But his words even sounded unconvincing to him. He knew he couldn't think any other way, though. "It's okay. She's going to wake up," And then softer, he said, "She has to."

After a few moments, Clara pulled away, taking a minute to collect herself, whispering an apology to Peter for breaking down. He shook his head, telling her it was part of the healing process. She nodded, taking the flowers he brought and replacing the old ones with them. She picked up her books and placed them in her purse, telling Peter she would be in the lounge room while he had some alone time with me. She gave us one last glance before she left the room.

Peter took a seat in the chair, pulling it as close to my bed as he could. For a few minutes, he sat in silence, just listening to the heart monitor and thinking to himself. He then grabbed his bag and sat it on the ground, and I stood up, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Peter reached over and took hold of my cold hand, being careful of the IV stuck in my skin. At his touch, I felt a warm sensation in my own hand, and I wished I could reach out and hold him myself.

"I can't believe that it's been eight days," Peter quietly said. His hair was tousled and he had dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept since the accident. "I am terrified of waking up one morning and you not being here. I don't know what I'm going to do if you don't come back."

His words only rang more guilt inside of me, and my chest tightened. I hated seeing him like this, the boy I loved begging for my survival. All I could think about was how my entire family was gone. Would it be worth it to stay?

"I'm sorry for everything, Dee. I love you so much, so fucking much. And I know we are still so young, but I love you. I love you without any notion of what love is or what it means to love. But with you, it comes as easy as my next breath. Please don't leave, Addie. I will miss you so much. I don't want to say goodbye," He began to get choked up, his words coming out shakily. "I love whenever you play the violin. It brings you so much joy. And even if you can't play anymore, I will learn how to play it just to see you smile at the music. I'll take you to all the concerts you want to go to. I'll never complain about cooking and baking with you. I promise to help you study for that test you were so worried about a few weeks ago. I'll never leave you, I'll do whatever it takes to give you a good life. You deserve it. Please, Addie, I love you."

I shook my head, my lip trembling. "Oh, Pete."

"I'll spend every minute with you if that is what you want. You are worth everything to me. And it's my fault that things ended so badly. All of this is my fault," His voice was laced with regret and despair, and he dropped his head, letting a few sobs escape his body. He then looked back up with glossy eyes. "I messed up so bad. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry, Addie. Goddammit, this is all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Peter." I whispered, knowing there was nothing he could've done to prevent what happened.

He let out a trembling breath, and as if he heard me, he continued. "It is my fault," He let go of my hand. "Addie, do you remember when we broke up, and how I couldn't tell you where I had been all those nights?" I nodded, wondering what he was going to say. "I couldn't tell you then because I was terrified of what you'd say. But you deserve to know. It's my fault the accident happened. I'm the one that caused it."

I watched carefully as he reached down into his backpack, shuffling through a few items to finally pull out a pierce of wadded up fabric. He held it tightly in his hand, and he took another deep breath. I kept my focus on what was in his hands, and as he unfolded it and I saw the red cloth and large eye-holes, I gasped, my hand flying to cover my mouth.

"I'm Spider-Man."

✱ ✱ ✱

I waved goodbye to another customer as they left the diner, picking up their empty baskets of fries and milkshake glasses, carrying them over to the kitchen and handing them off to the dish washer. I also grabbed the billfold, opening it up to find a generous ten dollar tip folded inside. I pulled the money out, placing it in my cash box with my stuff before moving onto serve one of my other tables.

Distracting myself had been the best form of therapy. Being rid of the opportunity to think about anything seemed to be the only way to completely prohibit thinking about him. It was working as long as I stayed busy and focused on other tasks. This often took the form of studying extra long for tests, practicing more extensive pieces on my violin, or scheduling more hours than usual at the diner. My mother had warned me not to burn myself out, to take some time to rest. But I knew as soon as I rested, the hurt and heartbreak would just come crawling back.

My mind had become a wishing well. When everything was quiet, I found myself standing at the top, holding onto a memory and tossing it in, hoping that when it landed it would become reality once again. But they were merely wishes, and they collected in a pool of forgotten yet cherished moments that I figured I would never get back.

I knew that I was the one to push him away. I knew I had shut him out, and that it was because of me that we never spoke anymore. I was the one ignoring his calls and texts, yet I felt disheartened when they eventually ceased. I had thought that this was what I wanted, but it was exactly the opposite. I still loved him. I didn't know how to stop missing him; he'd taken a permanent spot in my heart, which has simply turned into a sea of thoughts about him.

Every morning seemed like a painful reminder that you weren't there. The mornings were the most silent parts of the day.

I carried two orders of burgers over to my last table of the night. The sun had set hours ago and the diner was finally beginning to slow down. A heavy rain had set in over the New York sky, causing anyone who wasn't already out to stay at home. I knew I could wrap up work early this night and get a good sleep before school the following day.

As I headed back towards the kitchen area of the restaurant, I saw my phone light up from my jacket pocket hanging nearby. The top half of the screen was poking out, and normally, I would ignore any notifications popping up while I was working. But the name of who had texted me made me stop. Peter.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure my manager was not paying attention to me, and I quietly stepped towards my jacket, pulling my phone out and typing in my passcode. With shaky hands, I opened his text message, seeing the grey bubble at the bottom of a screen filled with many more from the past week and a half. I hadn't responded to any of them, but something was different this time. I read it silently.

Dee, I know you need your space, but please, just let us talk. Even if it's to tell me you never want to see me again. Are you working tonight?

I gulped. I felt bad for being so unresponsive, but he was right. I had needed space, time to process things. I needed an opportunity to remind myself of how much happiness this boy had brought me. I typed out a response.

Yes. I get off at 9:30.

And he typed back.

I'll see you then.

Sighing, I shut my phone off and slipped it back into my jacket before I could get in trouble for using my phone while clocked in. I immediately continued to tend to my tables, making sure I finished the last half hour of my shift strong. I tried to not let my rapidly beating heart or worry for what we would discuss distract me from my work. I wasn't sure what exactly prompted me to agree to meet him, but there was no arguing with the fact that I missed him.

As the customer count slowly began to dwindle and the diner grew empty, I found a booth to sit in until my shift ended, watching as one of the bus boys cleaned the final table and the cooks had loud conversation in the kitchen. It was ten till my time to clock out, and when the clock finally struck 9:30, I hung up my apron and grabbed my purse, rain jacket and phone.

I still had no new messages from Peter, so I decided to stay inside until he got here, not wanting to wait outside in the pouring rain. I figured he was just running late, and I had no problem with waiting a few extra minutes. The diner was no empty, every employee remaining simply waiting until closing time and hoping no one came in hoping for a late-night milkshake.

I set my phone down on the table, turning my attention to the television mounted on the wall across from where I sat. The news was turned on, the subtitles explaining what was currently happening in New York City. As I watched, a 'breaking news' icon appeared, and the anchor cut to live footage of a busted heist at the Metropolitan. The group had been stopped thirty minutes prior by an ongoing fight with Spider-Man, a brawl that had resulted in shots being fired, but the vigilante was able to make it out cleanly. He refused to interview with police, disappearing as quickly and stealthily as when he arrived.

I remember watching this report and not thinking much of it. It was just another average occurrence in New York City. Instead, I looked down at my phone and saw that it was now 9:47, and I wondered if Peter was even going to show up after all. I sighed, rubbing my temples. This was the same thing that had been happening while we were together. Maybe things hadn't changed.

Five more minutes. Then another fifteen. Eventually, the clock reached 10:14, and it had been nearly forty-five minutes since I got off. My co-workers were giving me strange looks, wondering why I wasn't hurrying to get home, but I ignored their stares, not wanting to explain that I had been stood up by my ex-boyfriend. I would even laugh at myself at how pathetic it was.

I rolled my eyes, picking my stuff up, feeling defeated. I waved goodbye to my manager and pushed open the door to the diner. I flipped up the hood on my jacket, wishing I had brought an umbrella. I began to brave the constant downpour of rain, the sky seeming to weep with my own soul. It was as if the universe was offering me its own condolences.

As I started to walk down the sidewalk, I heard a faint shouting from behind me. The voice seemed familiar, but I brushed it off as my mind playing games. But a second later, the voice grew louder, not as audibly drowned out by the rain. I listened as footsteps pounded against the pavement, splashing in puddles while my name was called one more time. "Addie!"

I turned around hesitantly, squinting to see a boy getting closer, and there was no question of who it was. He stopped about a meyer away from me, a little out of breath from sprinting. "Peter. I should be heading home."

Still breathing heavy, he said, "I'm sorry, Addie, I got tied and ran here as fast as I could."

"But my shift ended forty-five minutes ago—"

"Yet you still waited for a reason." Peter stated, and I immediately shut my mouth. He looked at me knowingly; he was right. I had stayed for a reason. The rain continued to pour, soaking his hair, for he was without a rain jacket. He looked at me, I looked at him.

"I'm sorry." We both blurted out at the same time, and I raised my eyebrows. "You're sorry?"

"Of course I am," He said softly, taking a step closer. "I was in the wrong. I shouldn't have kept things from you, it was selfish. And if I had known how detrimental it would be, I never would've done it. The thing is, I've been working on this internship with a special organization, but I'm not really allowed to talk about it. I was scared of losing it, but now, I think I can share it with you. Not today, but soon. You just have to trust me."

I nodded. "I do trust you, Peter. And I'm sorry too. I was afraid and I should've given you a chance. I was just scared."

"I was scared too." Peter agreed.

I looked at him deeply, unable to tear my focus away from his brown-eyed gaze. The raindrops trickled down my face, and I reached up to wipe them off, only for more to immediately replace them. "I don't wanna do this anymore. This distance, I can't do it. I know I met you for a reason, Pete, and that's become more apparent to me now. And-and I'm just so sorry, I was acting like a terrible girlfriend and I feel so bad and I—"

I didn't have a chance to finish my rambling however. Peter closed the distance between us, placing his hands on either side of my face and pressing his lips against mine. I immediately wrapped my own hands around his wrists, holding him tightly as his lips softly grazed mine, lovingly and tenderly. After a short moment, he pulled away, keeping his body next to mine. "It's all gonna be okay, Addie. I love you so much."

I smiled, draping my arms across his shoulders as he placed his hands on my waist. "And I love you, Peter Parker."

Our lips reconnected, this time more passionately, having been separated for far too long. With one kiss, my soul was calmed and the world seemed to be in balance once again. Our hearts were intertwined and our thoughts were engulfed by each other. I was convinced that nothing was sweeter than two lost loves reuniting. The stars seemed to dance and the heavens smiled, and Peter pulled me into his chest, hugging me firmly, afraid to let go.

In that moment, I thought to myself, I want this boy to be mine until my very last breath.

The tragic part about it all, however, was simply this:

That was our last kiss before my life was ripped apart by one car crash.