Rebirth Read Online Free PDF

I could imagine we were still living the summer months before everything went to hell. We were new, our relationship was in its infancy, but we’d shared so much in such a short time that we could just lay there and not speak. He would indulge me, let me stroke his hair, kiss his shoulder. This usually followed a passionate and impressively lengthy session of lovemaking. I’d only been with one other boy before Joel and that was anything but impressive. Not that I had much experience to draw from, but a girl knows what a girl wants.
     
    At three in the morning Joel spoke once more. It wasn’t profound, at least, not at the time. It seemed almost sad that this was what he’d said with his last opportunity to communicate to me. “Go North,” he whispered, catching me completely off guard.
     
    “Wha-what?” I whispered back. He did not reply. “Joel…” I sat up, took his head in both my hands and leaned into him. “Joel?” Tears welled up in my eyes and fell on his face. “Say that again,” I pleaded. “Say it again, Joel.” I lifted his eyelids and stared into his eyes, though they had rolled up into the back of his head. I shook him. “Please… Joel, say that again. Say something, anything. Please!” Realizing he was not going to speak again, I set his head onto the pillow and cried for hours.
     
    *****
     
    The first few days after Joel’s passing were numbing. Upon hearing the news from Caroline and falling to my knees, my mind went a mile a minute. I stared at the floor, my unblinking eyes darting back and forth. A hand on my back, meant to comfort me, felt like nothing. I stood and called Caroline a liar. I couldn’t grasp that he wasn’t coming back, that one evening Joel wouldn’t just wake up and turn to me and smile. I wasn’t prepared for this. Though I had tried to be logical, understanding that the blood loss, the time spent underwater, and his comatose state did not bode well for his chances, I had convinced myself that his survival was a real possibility.
     
    I charged to the bedroom and stopped short of the door. I stared at Joel on the bed, studying his torso, watching for his chest to rise and fall. They might have been wrong, they might not have checked everything, they weren’t doctors. What did they know? I moved to the bed. Had they checked his pulse? Had they listened for his breathing? As the questions ran through my head I pressed my finger to his jugular, and my ear to his mouth, desperate for any sign.
     
    “I tried CPR too, Sara,” Seth had followed me as far as the door. I shot a look at him and he stepped back, his eyes falling to the floor.
     
    “Do you even know CPR?” I asked spitefully. His hand went up limply and I started the life saving technique, straddling Joel, pushing violently down on his chest, desperate to restart his heart. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, “Breathe!” I shouted at him. His face was white. I tilted his head, pinched his nose and sealed my mouth around his. I blew hard and long into his lungs, encouraged by the rise in his chest. I repeated the process time and again until after a half hour I was pulled off him, physically exhausted and emotionally crushed.
     
    For days after his burial I replayed his voice in my head, remembering only the good, only the special moments. I couldn’t bring myself to think a single negative thought about him. Instead I ran through all the scenarios that would never be. I’d lost everything. He was my every day, in my every thought. How could I survive this place without him? Who would I read to at night? Who would I sleep next to? Who would I share my most intimate thoughts with? The lost opportunities endlessly played out in my mind. I was utterly heart-sick and spent many of the days to follow alone in his room, our room, bed-ridden.
     
    Caroline would visit often and was really the only person I would let in. I let her into my head and into my heart. We’d relive shared memories of Joel and occasionally I