“
Ihung up with Josh, and the switch flipped in my head.
Sloan called it my velociraptor brain because it made me fierce and sharp. Something big had to trigger it, and when it did, my compulsive, laser-focused, primal side activated. The one that got me a near perfect score on my SATs and got me through college finals and Mom. The one that made me clean when I was stressed and threatened to launch into full-scale manic OCD if left unchecked—that kicked in.
Emotion drained away, the tiredness from staying up all night crying dissipated, and I became my purpose.
I didn’t do hysterics. Never had. When in crisis, I became systematic and efficient.
And the transition was now complete.
I weighed only for a second whether to call Sloan and tell her or go pick her up. I decided to pick her up. She would be too upset to drive properly, but knowing her, she would try anyway.
From Josh’s explanation of the situation, Brandon wouldn’t be out of the hospital anytime soon. Sloan wouldn’t leave Brandon, and I wouldn’t leave her. She would need things for the stay. People would need to be called. Arrangements made.
I began to compile a list in my head of things to do and things to pack as I quickly but methodically drove to Sloan’s. Phone charger, headphones, blanket, change of clothes for Sloan, toiletries, and her laptop.
It took me twenty minutes to get to her house, and I got out of my car ready for a surgical extraction.
I stood there, surrounded by the earthy smell of Sloan’s just-watered potted porch flowers. The door opened, and I took in her blissfully ignorant face one more time.
“Kristen?”
It wasn’t unusual for me to stop by. But she knew me well enough to instantly know something was wrong.
“Sloan, Brandon has been in an accident,” I said calmly. “He’s alive, but I need you to get your purse and come with me.”
I knew immediately that I’d been right to come get her instead of calling. One look at her and I knew she wouldn’t have been able to put a foot in front of the other. While I mobilized and became strong under stress, she froze and weakened.
“What? ” she breathed.
“We have to hurry. Come on.” I pushed past her and systematically executed my checklist. I gave myself a two-minute window to grab what was needed.
Her gym bag would be in the laundry room, already filled with toiletries and her headphones. I grabbed that, pulled a sweater from her closet, selected a change of clothes for her, and stuffed her laptop inside the bag.
When I came out of the room, she had managed to grab her purse as instructed. She stood by the sofa looking shaken, her eyes moving back and forth like she was trying to figure out what was happening.
Her cell phone sat by her easel and I snatched it, pulling the charger from the wall. I grabbed her favorite throw blanket from the sofa and stuffed that in the bag and zipped it.
List complete.
Then I took her by the elbow, locked her front door, and dragged her to the car.
“Wha…what happened? What happened!” she screamed, finally coming out of her shock.
I opened up the passenger door and put her in. “Buckle yourself up. I’ll tell you what I know on the way.”
When I got around to the driver’s side, she had her phone to her ear. “He’s not answering. He’s not answering! What happened, Kristen?!”
I grabbed her face in my hands. “Listen to me. Look at me. He is alive. He was hit on his bike. Josh went on the call. He was unconscious. It was clear he had some broken bones and a possible head injury. He’s at the ER, and I need to get you to the hospital to be with him. But I need you to be calm.”
Her brown eyes were terrified, but she nodded.
“Right now your job is to call Brandon’s family,” I said firmly. “Relay what I just said to you, calmly. Can you do that for Brandon?”
She nodded again. “Yes.” Her hands shook, but she dialed.
”
”