The guy is playing on the station to my left and completely oblivious to anyone in the room. The same goes for most of the guys.
I kind of get the sense that Blake won’t be missed around here, because no one looks torn up. No, it’s not a happy-fun kind of gathering, but it doesn’t feel like a wake either. Is it because Blake was an asshole and no one liked him? Or is it because anyone who was friends with Blake is just as cold as he was?
Maybe both. Because I know some of his fellow fraternity brothers were there the other night. They had no problem helping Blake. They have to pay for what they did.
The driver from the other night drops his controller and grabs his throat. No one notices his silent plea for help.
Me? I can’t believe I’m the only one watching this. You deserve it, I think.
Like he hears me, the guy turns his head and locks his eyes on my face. His hand is tight around his throat. Help, he mouths.
Not a chance. I flash a smile at him and leave the house.
Suddenly, my damned heart won’t stop racing. I can’t catch my breath. My feet feel heavy, and my stomach is burning. I don’t make it more than three feet past the front door.
Go back in there and fix it. Help him, I tell myself. Why? Don’t know. But when I turn to do it, the sensations leave me.
I rush back into the living room and grab the guy by the shoulders. I push him to the floor, ready to give him CPR.
“Bro! What’re you doin’?” one guy yells.
There’s a split second that I’m hating myself for saving this asshole who drove me and River to our near deaths. But when I look him in the eyes, I can feel him silently begging for forgiveness.
Maybe he didn’t want to do it, I think. Maybe Blake threatened him, and this guy and I aren’t so different after all. We both feared speaking up, pushing back, saying anything because we know the Mandas and Blakes of the world will do anything to win. They’re willing to cross lines most of us won’t. They justify their cruel behavior with excuses like, “Well, it’s either them or me.” Or “It’s dog eat dog.” “The world has wronged me, so why should I care?” But all the justifications in the world don’t excuse acting like an animal.
Where does this epiphany come from? Not sure, but as I look down at this guy staring with pleading eyes, I do the only thing I can. I start trying to save this piece of shit. Whatever he’s done is between him and his god. I’ve got my own crimes to answer for.
I press my lips to his mouth and blow. Yuck. Yuck! Though, if I did swing that way, his lips are pretty soft. Good for him. I’m sure the ladies appreciate it. Unfortunately, the mouth-to-mouth doesn’t do the trick.
I pull back. He’s pointing to his throat.
He’s choking!
I flip him over on all fours to administer the Heimlich, something I learned in some health class I took years ago. I slide my arms around him, making it look like an awkward clothed doggy-style simulation. I really shouldn’t have complained about touching his lips. This is way more uncomfortable.
The guy hacks and spits a wad of lime green goo to the floor.
“Gum?” I bark. “You almost died from gum, dude?”
“Thank you,” he croaks.
I stand up, brushing off the front of my jeans like it somehow erases the intimacy of what I had to do to save him.
I glare down at the guy. “I don’t care what Blake said to get you to go along with the other night. There’s no excuse. You didn’t, nor will you ever, have the right to take the life of a person like River. Her parents need her. I need her. You need her. People like River are the only good things assholes like us will ever get to have in this world.”
My choice of words doesn’t escape me. It sounded like a declaration of love. Did I mean it? I don’t know what’s going on inside my head anymore.
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Yep. My work here is done.” I leave the house and then proceed to slam my palm into my forehead. Can I be any more cliché? “My work here is done”?
“Wait up, man,” says a big guy with dark, longish hair, running for me. I don’t recognize him. “Hey,” he says, catching up. “Thanks for helping Kyle.”
“Kyle?” The guy has the same name as my brother.
“Yeah, the dude you just helped ten seconds ago.”
“No problem,” I say coldly.
“Your name’s Huff, right? None of us were okay with what Blake did.”
“Then why not try to stop him?” I ask.