BRIDGETTE

It was just another normal day for us.

I went to the office and demanded things from Lara--yes, her name finally stuck in my mind--like I always did before Cara would come to the office. The two of us decided we needed a new set of wardrobe for the weekend getaway we planned with the guys. It would not be out of state, but it would be somewhere quiet and relaxing. Quinn needed it, saying he wanted to get away from his family and friends for a while because they were still not getting over his decision to not go through with the wedding. Scott obviously hadn’t been on a vacation for years and he deserved one with me, of course. And Cara and I needed this one to hibernate. It was still sort of tiring to pretend we were somebody else no matter how normal we felt. Did I say that right? Well, it might just mean I really needed this break.

So, for five hours or so, Lara had been running around and typing on her computer to rush everything I ordered. And just after lunch, Cara arrived, beat from school.

“I didn’t get lunch. What did you have?” she asked, slumping her body down my office couch.

“I didn’t get one either. We can just grab one on the way,” I suggested.

Once I was done with my task, I told Lara to not wait for me and close the office at exactly four in the afternoon. I was too eager to go out shopping.

Cara and I went to the usual spots. I would try on clothes and she would scrutinize my choices.

“My body doesn’t really look good in that one, Bridge,” she said as I got out wearing very short shorts. “Can’t you choose something longer?”

I rolled my eyes. “Your body looks great in this,” I objected, turning around to look in the mirror.

“I don’t know,” she uttered, tilting her head to the side to look at me.

“I’ll get this,” I announced with a smile.

Cara just shrugged her shoulder. She knew she couldn’t do anything.

And like she had always been years before, she was a difficult shopping partner. She was the type who preferred to be the advisor, but when it was time for her to choose her own clothes and try them on, she could get really difficult. Of course, I would never allow my original body to be clad with boring fabric so I made it my responsibility to choose the right dresses for her.

“Can we go home now?” she asked dryly as the woman behind the counter threw our clothes inside a paper bag.

“Just one more stop,” I begged. I needed a good scarf, I thought.

“Quinn and Scott are waiting by the coffee shop, Bridge. They’ve been there for like an hour now,” she reminded me.

“Come on, they’re together. Those two always have a lot of things to talk about. And plus, what we’re doing is for them anyway.”

Cara looked at me doubtfully. “You’re such a shopaholic.”

I ignored her and grabbed our bags from the counter. “Come on,” I said, handing her own bag. “I need a scarf.”

CARA

Bridgette could get very excited whenever she was shopping. And it was almost always impossible to stop her. Years ago, it was the most tiring thing I would have to do with her. And that fact never changed in present time.

I let her drag me out of the store and down the side walk.

“What?” I asked her when she suddenly stopped.

“I see scarves,” she beamed, looking across the street.

I resigned with a chuckle. “Fine. Just that store and then we’re off. Quinn’s been calling me every ten minutes.”

“Tell him to get lost because we’re not done yet,” she uttered as she grabbed my hand once more and pulled me to the street.

To outsiders, we were probably just a couple of girl friends crossing the street in a rushed shopping spree.

Or perhaps to them, we were just two unfortunate ladies who didn’t see the motorcycle who made a sharp turn coming their way.

For me, everything was fast, just like it was months ago when we had that accident in the middle of the street.

But I think Bridgette saw it coming just a few seconds before I did because she pulled me so fast I barely had time to feel the full impact. The moment I hit the ground, I was numb. The ringing in my ears were a mixture of people shouting and the whirring of the motor’s engine.

The last thing I saw was my unconscious face just a foot away. Bridgette.

I felt like I was riding a magic carpet and it was floating in the air. But it was no magic carpet. I knew very well I was being wheeled through concrete, riding a stretcher.

“What happened?” I heard someone ask as the stretcher rolled on.

“I saw this lady pull the other lady, the one with black hair, to block herself from the impact,” answered a voice. “Can you believe it? She used her friend to save herself!” she finished with an angry cry.

What was she talking about? Who “this lady” was she referring to? Was it me? I didn’t pull anyone. I didn’t.

“Cara? Can you hear me?” a man’s voice asked after the stretcher was lifted and pushed into the ambulance. I couldn’t move my head. Someone had enclosed my neck with a stiff guard. I tried to open my eyes. They were heavy.

“Cara?” the voice asked once again. Apart from the man asking the question, there was someone else moving about and doing something with my body. I felt a BP cuff tighten around my upper arm. And then a pulse oxymeter was attached to my finger. A constant cracking of the radio was at the background. And the ambulance’s alarm was ringing in my ears.

“Cara?” the vice repeated, this time too near my ear.

I finally managed to open my eyes, but there was too much light. Was he talking to me? Was it Quinn? He was the only man who knew my real name.

“Bridge…” I uttered but all that came out was a breath.

“Good, you’re conscious. Don’t sleep, okay? We’re taking you to the ER. I am going through your bag, Cara. I need to call someone,” the man was saying.

He was not Quinn. He was a paramedic. But how did he know I was Cara? He wouldn’t know I was Cara if he looked into my bag. I was Bridgette Finn--body, bag, and all.

“You have a Scott Newman in your speed dial. We will call him and tell him what happened, okay? You’re going to be alright. Just don’t sleep.”

They probably took the wrong bag. Where was Bridgette? I wanted to ask, but it seemed that my mouth was not responding to my request.

I tried to stay conscious as long as I could, but it was no use. My lids were too heavy.

It was easier the next time I tried to open them. And I was in a different place. There was a commotion on the bed beside me. It was a very familiar sound. It was the usual sound in the ER whenever there was a real emergency.

“Bridge, Bridge, can you hear me?” asked a familiar voice.

I turned my eyes and saw Scott. I frowned.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” he asked again, his face looming over me.

I tried to shake my head. I was not Bridgette. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Bridge…” I tried to say but it came out wrong.

“What?” he asked.

“What the hell are you guys doing?! Do something!” shouted a voice I very well knew from the bed beside mine.

Turning my head, I saw Quinn glaring at every nurse and doctor moving about.

A female nurse was trying to calm him down.

What was he doing there? Quinn, I am here!

“Quinn,” I tried to call out.

“What?” Scott asked over me once again.

I turned my eyes at him. “Bridgette…where…”

And by some miracle, he was able to understand what I was trying to say. His eyes slowly widened in realization. “Cara?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Where…Bridgette…Quinn…” I tried once again and I could barely hear my voice. But it sounded different. It sounded very familiar. Was it my own voice, the one I was born with, that I was hearing?

“Oh my God,” Scott breathed out. “Quinn!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Quinn! It’s Cara!”

Yes, yes. Call Quinn! And Bridgette? Where is Bridgette?

“It’s Cara!” Scott shouted once again and Quinn was beside him in an instant, looking down at me.

“Cara? Is that really you?” His voice was a shaking whisper.

What the hell was wrong? Couldn’t he tell? “Yes…” I managed to answer. “Bridgette…”

“Oh my God,” Scott cried out once again, raking his fingers through his hair. He whirled around and went to the bed next to me. “Move aside!” he shouted at someone as I felt Quinn’s hand grip mine.

What the hell was happening?

The beeping of the monitor was so familiar I almost jumped out of bed. It was like that day months ago when I woke up inside Bridgette’s body. But a hand was holding mine, and this time, it was Quinn. He was sleeping, his head resting on the bed.

“Quinn,” I called and he lifted his head. He smiled at me, his tired eyes watering.

“Cara?” was the first word he uttered.

“You know I’m Cara,” I said, intending sarcasm, but I heard my voice. It was my own voice! My eyes widened as I looked at Quinn.

He slowly nodded his head. “You’re back,” he said in a hoarsely.

I looked around the room. I was no longer in the ER. I raised my left hand--my very own hands with the nails Bridgette colored hot pink just yesterday--and my eyes watered. “Oh my God...” I whispered in a shaking voice. “I’m back?”

Quinn squeezed my other hand and nodded. “Welcome back, Cara,” he uttered and leaned over to kiss my forehead.

“Bridge would be so happy!” I cried out.

The lack of response from Quinn caused my heart to hammer against my chest. Something was definitely wrong. I turned my eyes to look at his but they faltered. “Quinn, where’s Bridgette?” I slowly asked.

“Cara,” he started with a guarding tone.

I pulled my hand away from him and started to peel the covers of the bed. I had to go find Bridgette.

“Cara, wait,” Quinn stopped me and gently pushed me back on the bed.

“Quinn, I have to see Bridgette--”

“She’s still in surgery,” he answered.

Frozen, I stared at him. “What do you mean surgery? It was just a small accident, right?” I didn’t even have anything larger than a scratch! Yes, I felt dizzy, but I was all right. No memory loss, no casts, no slings. I was feeling perfectly fine!

“Cara, her body received most of the impact.”

“But Quinn--” I started, not wanting to hear what happened. It was better left unexplained.

“People said everything happened so fast. But everyone saw how Bridgette tried to save herself by pulling you in front of the motorcycle.”

“No, no, no,” I cried.

“Cara, I know Bridgette tried to save you,” Quinn uttered. “By pulling her body in the way, she was able to save yours,” he finished.

And I hope he didn’t. Why the hell would Bridgette do that? Was she crazy?

“Don’t blame yourself. That’s the last thing Bridgette wants.”

How could I not? Was this what the girl in that bookstore was talking about? Sacrifice? I won’t allow it! “I want to see her.”

“She’s going to be fine. Scott’s in the OR and he is not coming out with a corpse for a girlfriend. Do you understand? Bridgette’s going to be okay,” Quinn reassured me. But it was not enough.

I couldn’t sleep. I tried to, but I couldn’t.

Quinn called my dad and he came to the hospital in lightning speed.

I hugged him like I never did before. God, I missed him. His smell, his embrace.

“Cara, you should stop this habit of getting into accidents,” he joked.

“Dad, I’m just so glad you’re here,” I uttered.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not shouting you are someone else. The last time, you acted like you didn’t know me.”

He asked me a lot of questions and mostly, they were about Quinn. Why didn’t I introduce the guy before? Why did he have to meet him in a hospital? Why did I keep him a secret?

But his curiosity was immediately gone when he found out I was with Bridgette during the accident. He was greatly worried. After all, he thought she was my best friend and she was close to him these past couple of months.

I insisted to be in the waiting area outside the OR. Sitting on a wheelchair with an IV attached to my arm, I waited impatiently for the doors to open. My dad and Quinn waited with me in silence.

When the blue doors finally swung open, it was Scott who came out.

I finally knew the emotion the movies try to portray in such scenarios. The anticipation, the hope and the fear--all of them mixing together as the bearer of the news removes his mask. In our case, the look on Scott’s face as he looked at me made my heart sank. And as he tried to explain everything that went inside the OR, my mind was numb. The tears flowed like a hopeless leak in a faucet.

I prayed for someone--anyone--to wake me up from this tremendously awful dream.

***The last chapter will be up on December 5th, guys! I hope I have given justice to this story and I hope you like it enough to vote and comment! Thank you! :D