Broken Twice (Part 8)

Ch 8: Alive

beep! beep! beep! That sound was getting annoying. I opened my eyes and saw a heart monitor next to me. I looked to my right, an I.V. was hooked up to me. I closed my eyes, the struggle was over for now; I’d overcome death. That’s all people could ask of me right now.

“Christy?” I heard Spencer’s voice.

“Hmm?” was all I could muster, I felt so overwhelmingly tired.

“You’re alive” was all he said. His voice wavered at the end. I looked over at him and saw him crying. I had never seen him cry before.

“Spencer...” I began to cry too. I wanted to tell him everything, but I knew I didn’t have the strength for that now... and neither did he.

“Christy, I’ll ask later what happened; I’m just so glad you’re alive!” He said.

    He and I sat in comfortable silence; just looking at each other’s faces for nearly an hour, before he had to go home and the doctors had to check on me again.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so don’t go anywhere, kay?” he said with a weak smile as he headed out the door.

“Haha, okay.” My ribs hurt even when I fake laughed.

Mom and Dad came to see me about an hour after Spencer left. Mom was a mess. She kept asking me questions that I could hardly answer. The doctor came in to tell us that I had a concussion, and that I should take it easy for a month or two.

This was the first time in a long time I’d ever seen my dad sober. It was also the first time that I could remember that he’d shown any concern for my well being. I wondered what could have possibly changed him in such a short time. I’d have to think about that later.

I had to stay in the hospital for about three days. The doctors wanted to keep a close eye on my concussion and broken ribs.

“Someone upstairs must really like you” one doctor told me. Apparently I had been one blow away from permanent brain damage. I rolled my eyes at that remark.

On the day they released me, they wheeled me out to the car in a wheelchair, though I knew I could walk just fine. The first thing my dad did was to ask me where I wanted to go eat... dad never took me out... what is going on?

“Um, you pick” I told him.

“No, this is the day you get out of the hospital, you pick.” He put some effort into a smile. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled... or been nice to me for that matter.

“Okay, um, let’s go to DQ” I said, while pulling myself into the car.

I watched my dad walk around the car and get in.

“Okay dad, what’s going on?” I asked, “No jokes, please.”

Dad was quiet for a minute. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” he responded, “I’ll tell you my story, then if you want, you can tell me yours.”

Wait, dad’s letting me choose?! This was a first as well, normally he’d force it out of you.

We sat down after ordering. I waited, dad would speak when he was ready.

“You know, that Spencer friend of yours is a real good kid,” Dad started out.

Oh no! please no! don’t think that! Don’t think that he and I are going to need “The talk”

“While you were in the hospital, he came and talked to me. Pointed out some of the mistakes I played in your life. At first I wanted to shred him to pieces, There’s nothing wrong with me! I had yelled at him. He replied calmly, ‘You realize you’re saying that with a beer in your hands, right?’ Spencer made me come to grips with the role that I was supposed to, but wasn’t, playing in your life.

“While you were in the hospital. I changed, I want to stay changed. So far it’s working for your mother, I want to change to help you too.”

I sat quietly for a few minutes. “What?”

“Christina, while you were out, I accepted Christ. I prayed, and you came out alive.” Dad was... crying?

I swallowed. “That’s great for you, Dad,” I said. I wasn’t comfortable with where this conversation was going. I would have almost rather have the sex talk versus this... almost. Maybe it was partially because when I was little I used to pray to God that dad would change. That had never happened. So I gave up on the God thing long ago.

The weeks went by. Things really did begin to get better. Dad was nicer to me. Mom worried less. My parents were finally beginning to respect me. Eventually Spencer, mom, and dad sat down with me one day, and gave me their testimonies. Spencer’s was really touching. Before he had met me, before he’d come to our school, he was the outcast, the “emo freak” kid. He was debating whether or not to kill himself. He’d prayed for someone to come along that needed him as much as he needed them. Then he met me. That day God had won my heart. I couldn’t imagine life without Spencer. God had put us in each other’s lives for a reason.

Fast forward about ten years. Spencer and I are now married with two kids. My faith in Christ is stronger than ever. Spencer and I had our struggles along the way, but I’ll save that for some other story.

And that’s the first story of how I was Broken Twice.

Note: I Had intended for my story go far beyond this ending. Sorry if it kind of leaves a lot of loose ends, but this is about as good as I can do with limited time. If you think I should keep going, and re-write the ending how I had at first planned, let me know :)   -Rachel