Fortunately for me, we are startled by the ring of the main doorbell, bringing an end to the inquisition.
“Looks like your friends have just arrived,” Janine says as she walks back to the entrance to invite them in.
Then I check myself briefly in the mirror—it looks like I’ve gained a pound or two during my stay at Bedford Hills, and maybe, dare I say, a semblance of a summer tan thanks to my aquatic classes in the outdoor pool.
Once Janine opens the door wide, I smile, seeing the joyful faces of Sarah, Katrina, David, and, of course, Matthew.
“Hey,” I greet them, my voice coming out a bit too low, maybe apprehensive at their reaction.
Sarah trots over in my direction and takes me into her arms, squeezing me so tight that I gasp. “I’m so happy to see you.” I try hard to restrain the rising tears. I don’t feel comfortable being so sensitive and emotional in front of them, but it’s one of the side effects Dr. Nel cautioned me about when she gave me my new meds. There’s also something recomforting about knowing your friends missed you. It could be fake, but my heart feels it straight to its core. After Sarah releases me, Katrina also gives me a hug, followed by David, and at this point, it feels like a ritual to welcome me back on planet Earth and among humans.
“How are you doing?” David asks me. “Did you recover well?”
“Um, yeah, I’ve been doing therapy, and I’m taking a lot of meds,” I tell them.
Seeing how they are nodding at me, I’m not surprised when Katrina asks, “Did you lose your memory or anything?”
“No, but I had atrophy of my legs for, like, ten days, and I could barely move.”
“We understand it must’ve been so tough,” she replies, her tone always so kind.
But the truth is, they can’t understand, no. Regardless of the amount of empathy and compassion they have, no one can understand what it’s like to be practically dead for so many months, when your own life is put on hold by an awful car accident—an accident I could have avoided.
Not even Alex, Dad, or Emma can understand. And I know I’m beyond blessed to be here again, to have woken up six months later without my brain damaged or my memories wiped away. After all, I could’ve simply… died.
I could have.
But I believe God decided otherwise for a reason, and nothing from that day on has ever felt the same—every breath, every laugh, every smile, every moment I spend with those I love will never be taken for granted ever again. I’ve admired and cherished every single one of them as if they were the last.
And, as I smile at my engagement ring, I think precisely about that. Never take anything for granted, Petra. Him either.
“Wow! Look at this ring!” Sarah shouts, taking my hand. “That’s a huge sapphire, and it’s so beautiful.”
“I can’t believe you are engaged.” Katrina hugs me again, before whispering in my ear, “I’m so happy for you.”
But my eyes dart instinctively to Matthew. He doesn’t look as enthusiastic; he feigns happiness with a polite smile, and I try to compose one back. But looking at him standing right in front of me feels awkward—to my surprise, his disappointment is overly palpable. I thought he had moved on after I’d been in a coma for so many months, and especially after telling him before Christmas that the man standing in front of the car he liked so much was my future husband. Well, I just hope we can remain friends.
“Alright, everyone, enough,” Matthew chides. “Petra can barely breathe with so many hugs.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Katrina ripostes just as fast. “We have double reason to celebrate today.” I tuck some hair behind my ear—half blushing, half embarrassed with so much attention.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” David says, patting me on the back. “Your fiancé is a very lucky man. Is he studying at Columbia?”
“Her fiancé is way older,” Matthew interposes. “At least fifteen years, if not more.”
I frown at his unnecessary comment. What is that? Jealousy? What the heck, Matthew? I censor him with my glare, but he doesn’t give a crap apparently.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sarah snaps, coming to my rescue. “He’s super handsome, and you guys look great together.” I smirk at Matthew; Sarah is such a great ally.
“Okay, time to get serious now,” I say as I glance at my watch. “The course is gonna start soon.” I lead them into the dining room, which is the best place to attend Public Economics via Zoom. My laptop is already plugged in and connected to a projector, which will display the class on the white screen stretched in front of us. Once the video call starts, Sarah praises my idea to watch it on the “big screen” like we are in a theater. So far, though, all we can see from the classroom is an office desk and an empty chair, a whiteboard on the wall behind it, and a closed door beside that. After a few more seconds, the door finally opens wide and a gray-haired man steps in. My brows lift, and my lips spread in a wide smile as I quickly recognize him—it’s Prof. Reich, one of the funniest and most fascinating teachers I had last year. Unlike Prof. Chilnisky, Prof. Reich has always managed to entertain us—most of the time involuntarily, but his short stature and sympathetic gaze, combined with his oversized jackets and cringeworthy expressions, make him all too funny and adorable. My eyes move discreetly to my right where Matthew is sitting, trying to gauge his reaction. After all, he considered Prof. Reich, like, his idol last year. But my curiosity is then startled at the sound of Prof. Reich’s quirky voice. “Is it working?” I hear him asking. And we giggle like children seeing his face and neck in full screen as he double-checks his laptop cam.
“Do you think he can hear us?” I ask Sarah.
“I can hear everyone,” Prof. Reich shouts at his laptop. And I try my best to contain a laugh, so I just chuckle inwardly. “But I can’t see anyone though.” And he narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how to make it work. “Ah! I think I can see you guys now. Oh! There are a hundred people attending?”
Matthew puffs into his palm, but I can hear him all too well.
“Very well, so…” Prof. Reich reaches into his briefcase sitting on the chair and takes out a pen. Then he starts writing something on the whiteboard: Wealth is not money. So what is it?
I feel Matthew leaning toward me, and he whispers something in my ear. “And here lies all the beauty of philosophy.”
My eyes travel in his direction, a smile already hanging on my lips, but Matthew doesn’t notice me as he’s already taking notes on his MacBook. I observe him for a few more seconds, my smile just as big, and, for some stupid reason, it just crosses my mind that he’s the only one who didn’t hug me at the entrance. Not even to greet me. Nothing. Why didn’t he show any affection like the rest of the group? I thought he cared about me; at least, during our video call when he nearly cried, he seemed like he did.
Then, as my attention falls back to the screen, I realize Prof. Reich is already engrossed in his introduction speech, and I’m slightly annoyed that I missed part of it. “So, in order to preserve some social interaction between students, each group of five will prepare a study of an ideology as applied to economics. It can be anything, from liberalism to Marxism. The idea is that you deeply analyze the ideology and how good or bad it can be when applied to public economics, including governmental policies, equity, welfare, and the role of the government itself.”