Friday, April 1, 2011

Total Empathy

Sara could hardly look at Bethany’s arm. It was bent at a weird angle underneath her. Bethany herself lay unmoving in the ditch, the 4-wheeler overturned beside her. It was a miracle it hadn’t landed on her.

Bethany groaned as Sara slid down the steep incline into the dirt nearby. Sara’s heart was thumping like a drum, moving up into her throat as she surveyed her cousin. Bethany didn’t look too good. Her face was pale and drawn. She was as helpless as Sara had ever seen anyone.

“Sara?” Bethany’s voice came out weak and thin. She coughed, winced, and tried again. “Sara. We have to call my dad.” Her voice came out stronger the second time.

Reflexively, Sara reached to her jacket to the little zippered pocket where she kept her phone. Her fingers shook slightly as she undid the zipper and slid out the phone. Bethany grimaced and closed her eyes. Her mouth was tight in a firm line. Sara went into the contacts list and selected Bethany’s dad. Her thumb skid over the SEND button to press 3. Sara quickly erased the mistake, got ahold of herself, and pushed the button. Slowly she raised the phone to her ear.

It rang. Bethany let out another little groan and opened her eyes. Sara kept the receiver glued to her ear, trying to watch her cousin at the same time without letting Bethany know she was worried.

No answer. Sara got the answering machine. She glanced up unwillingly and met Bethany’s eyes.

“Try my mom,” Bethany said. She kept her eyes open, focused on Sara. Her face remained tight and pale. Sara found the number, pressed SEND obediently and listened to the ringing distantly. She was having difficulty thinking clearly.

There was no luck with that call either. They tried Sara’s parents next, then various other friends and relatives who might be in a position to help or find help.

“Call 911,” Bethany finally said. She closed her eyes again, tightly. The corners of her eyes began to leak tears of pain and exhaustion. Sara pretended not to see. She pushed the buttons crisply, raising the phone to her ear once more, expecting to hear an operator soon.

Silence. Sara took the phone from her ear and examined it. “Signal lost,” a message on the screen said.

“Blast it!” Bethany burst out. Sara looked up to see tears running down her face in earnest. Sara still could not bear to look at Bethany’s arm. “Someone answer!”

“It’ll be okay,” Sara heard herself say in a quiet, assured voice.

“Like heck it’ll be okay!” Bethany yelled at her. “Nobody will freaking answer their stupid phone!” She glared, breathing hard, daring Sara to try again. When she said nothing, Bethany’s anger faded and she closed her eyes again. After a moment, she said, “It hurts.”

What? Sara almost asked, but she knew. How could she not know? Bethany’s arm was twisted, bent awkwardly in two places and folded uncomfortably under her torso.

“Help me,” Bethany said. She opened her eyes and looked at Sara pleadingly.

Barely aware of what she was doing, Sara went over and knelt next to her cousin. She looked her in the eyes. She looked at her arm. Her breath caught. “I don’t know how-”

“You can help me. Please help me,” Beth said.

Sara stared at her for a moment, and then slowly lowered her hands to Bethany’s cheek and shoulder. She could feel her cousin’s heartbeat, faster than it should be. She could feel her muscles tightening, the sweat forming.

And then she felt the pain. Pain, starting in her left arm and shooting up into her shoulder. Pain from a bloody scratch on her left knee. Pain, fiery and hot, growing fiercer by the minute as if it were being stoked. How had Bethany managed to hold it in so long?

“Ahh,” Bethany said. Her eyes glazed. And Sara felt the pain.

She felt it. She took it, feeling her own wholeness flow into Bethany in return. Bethany sighed in relief. She closed her eyes, peacefully this time. She could almost have been asleep.

Sara could see the effects through the haze of pain. She watched as Bethany relaxed, no longer burdened by her injuries. Sara touched her, and Sara felt her pain for her.

Her phone went off. The sound startled them both, Bethany from a healing half-doze, Sara from her position crouching over Bethany’s chest. With a quick look of apology, Sara lifted her hands from her cousin and answered the call. It was Bethany’s mother.

Bethany hissed through her teeth at the immediate return of her own pain, grateful for the precious seconds Sara had taken it but wishing for peace again.

When Sara ended the call, she put the phone down and put her hands back on Bethany after only a slight hesitation.

“Thank you,” Bethany sighed. Sara couldn’t answer. Their eyes slowly filled up with tears.

“I’ll never forget this,” Bethany said.

When Beth’s father arrived in the 4-wheel drive, Sara helped carry her cousin into the backseat and sat by her there, holding her unbroken hand, still feeling the pain.

“Beth, you can’t tell anyone what I can do,” Sara said when they got to the hospital. She spoke in a low voice so her uncle wouldn’t hear. “What I can do, it’s not normal.”

“It’s wonderful,” Bethany said. Her jaw tightened. “You can stop doing it now. I’ll take it from here.”

Sara released her, watching as the pain flowed back into Bethany again. When Beth had it under control, she looked Sara in the eye and said, “I won’t tell. I promise.”

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