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Gabrielcontinued to care for the other driver: retrieving a blanket from the man’s car, spreading it on the ground and getting him to assume the recovery position.Jess’schest swelled with love.Shesuddenly understood howLoisLanemust have felt when she watchedSupermansaving things—all the moreheroic in this instance becauseGabrielmust be just as shaken up as she was and yet he was out there, helping.Hehad told her that she wanted a hero; well, to her, he was one.
Shuttingher eyes, she concentrated on quietening the erratic beat of her heart.Bloodscreamed past her ears.Herbody shook with realisation.
Theycould have died.
Ifthat car had been just a few inches closer, it would have hit the front of their car.Whoknows if they would have survived?Shehad never been in an accident before, so this was another entirely new experience—but unlike the others she’d had on this trip, this one she could have done without.
However, it had clarified one thing for her: life was fragile and short—too short to waste time.Tonightshe’d try again withGabriel.She’dconvince him to have a go at dating long-distance, just to see if this was more than a fling.Theydeserved the chance to find out.Asthe accident had shown her, life could be snatched away at any moment.
Forthat reason, she’d take one more risk on this trip.
Jesscould have died.
Gabrielslammed the trunk and hefted his backpack over his shoulder.He’dreturn to collect the rest of his stuff another time.Rightnow, he just wanted to go home.
Itwas almost 8PM.Theaccident had taken a few hours to clear, and he’d given his name as a witness to the police.Hefelt angry for the stupid kid driving the red car who might not walk again; he was angry at the randomness of fate; and he was angry at the fact that he’d lost precious time withJess.Thiswas not how he wanted to spend their last night together.
Perhapsit was the universe reminding him that this wasn’t meant to be.
Jesscould have died.
Nextto him,Jesspulled her bag behind her as they exited the parking garage where he stabled his car.Herother hand sought out his, and they clasped their fingers together, tight.
Theydidn’t have far to walk to his apartment.Justa couple of blocks.
Fromthe way she’d barely spoken since theirNear-DeathExperienceand how she clung to his hand now, he could tell that she was still processing.Gabrielbelieved that there were two types of people when it came toNDEs: those who reacted well and those who reacted badly.By‘well’, he meant that it gave them a new lease on life.Theymight find religion or feel like they’ve been saved by a higher power.Forsome, it refocused them on what was important to them.
Inother cases, it went the opposite way.Itmade the person feel isolated, hopeless.
Jesscould have died.
He’dhad enough therapy and done enough soul searching in the days after he woke up in a hospital bed inKabul, that he knew exactly where he fell on the scale.Inhis short life, he’d had so manyNDEsthat he could rank them; this one today—definitely at the bottom of the list.Thatdidn’t mean it hadn’t affected him; physiologically, yes.Butpsychologically, no.He’dmade his peace with death long ago.
Shecould have died.
ButJess…she wasn’t used to this sort of thing.Allhe wanted to do that night was to take care of her.Whenthey returned to his apartment, he’d order take-out and then draw a hot bath so they could soak out their stresses together, shut out the world with all its pain and injustices.
Andtomorrow he would say goodbye.
Jesswas worried aboutGabriel.
Sincethe accident, he’d been very quiet.Thefrown was even more pronounced.Hehad that look in his eyes that she’d come to recognise in a short time as his internal gaze, the one where he was watching events in his mind, not the ones in front of him.
Andnow, he was holding her hand so tight that she feared the circulation might get cut off, like he didn’t want to let her go.
Sheneeded to take care of him tonight and make sure that he was okay.Maybeshe should try to move her return train by a day.Thethought of leaving him alone if he had been triggered by the accident didn’t sit well with her.
Asthey approached his building,Jessclocked the restaurant where she’d first metGabriel, light spilling onto the pavement.Itwas packed full of hungry customers.Shespotted her waiter threading through the tables with his little tray, delivering bottles of wine to the thirsty diners.Itreminded her that life went on whether she witnessed it or not.BackinLondon,Krishwas probably kissingFrancesca.Herparents were probably watching the nightly news.Herstudents were probably being tucked into their beds, counting the days until school started again.
‘Gabbouche!’
AtallEastAsianman sitting at the closest table to them stood and waved his arms in the air like he was landing a plane.Heseemed to be looking at them.Gabbouche?Didhe meanGabriel?Shescrunched her nose.
Nextto her,Gabrielstiffened before dropping her hand.
‘Jay-bot?’ he said, his eyes lighting up.Withouta backwards glance, he strode across the pavement towards the visitor, andthey threw their arms around each other in a crushing embrace.Shehad never seen men hug for so long—at least twenty seconds.Finally, they separated and did that double back slap thing that men did.Thevisitor dropped some cash on the table and picked up a backpack and duffel bag before followingGabrielto the building entrance, where she stood.Theman’s clothes were crumpled as though he’d been travelling for a long time.Gabriel’sfrown had been replaced by a huge grin.
Sheheard the man say in a poshEnglishaccent, ‘I’msorryImissedFatima’sbirthday this year.Iwas shooting inZhongdongand the bus broke down?—‘
