by Shayne Ford
His fingers start moving, stroking me slowly.
“It had speed, and it was right behind us, pushing me to speed up as well. I did, rushing to catch the green light, convinced that if I slowed down, he’d crash into me. I didn’t have much experience back then, and I made a choice that triggered a string of horrible events. But that was not the choice that I was talking about. My gut told me that the driver wanted to catch the green light as well so I zoomed through the intersection before it turned red, not paying attention to another car that was coming from my right and was taking a turn, rushing to enter the traffic as well, almost cutting me off. My eyes were still in the rearview mirror, on the truck that was not slowing down a bit. I wasn’t paying attention to the road, or to the second driver who proved to be just as reckless...”
I pause for a moment, pain clawing at my chest.
I palm his hand, craving his touch against my skin more than ever.
“It took a few seconds if that... The truck finally had access to the left lane and passed me by, but before it did the airflow and the air friction made me lose control of my car. It sucked me toward the truck and made me jerk the steering wheel. I managed to regain control of the vehicle but only for a moment before I heard a loud noise and felt the slamming of the second car into us. It made us spin a few times before we ended up upside down, the right side smashed badly.”
I stop again my breath strained in my chest.
My tears dry up.
“I, um... I was the first one who got out. Aiden lost consciousness while my mom was struggling with her safety belt and the airbag. Her face was smeared with blood.
‘Help Aiden...’ she said.
My voice dies out as tears start pouring down my face again.
“Those were her last words...” I say, still feeling helplessly after all this time. “Dazed, I ran to the other side, and tried to get him out with the help of a man who stopped his car to assist me.”
Quiet sobs begin to rock my chest, the soft sounds swallowed by the silence surrounding us.
I bite my lips trying to push the flood of tears back.
“We couldn’t open the door. It was bent badly. By the time, we tried to help my mom, she was no longer responsive...”
I pause again, looking at the sea through a curtain of tears.
“They were both pronounced dead at the scene of the accident. Up to this day, I don’t know if it was the right choice. I don’t know if he was still alive or not. I don’t know if I could’ve saved my mom, had I tried to pull her out first. I just don’t know. And what’s worse... I don’t know if I could’ve done anything to prevent the whole thing from happening. Perhaps if I had taken the chance to step on the brakes, not to rush through that intersection, to stand my ground and not to be bullied by the truck driver, perhaps they would’ve been still alive... And Aiden would’ve still ridden big turquoise waves and listened to mom’s stories in the evenings. Perhaps if any of them would’ve driven that particular day, they would’ve made a different choice, and none of that would’ve happened... But I don’t know.”
A few seconds slip by.
“Perhaps it wasn’t anyone’s choice,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“Often, people like to take credit for what happens in their lives, good and bad,” he says with a quiet voice. “But sometimes good and bad things happen to us. Why they come to us the way they do is not always clear, the same way you can’t always explain why two people who make the same choices end up in two different places. You did the best that you could that day. You tried to protect all of you the best that you could. You couldn’t control the other drivers or the sequence of the events or the timeline. You assume that just because you got to choose, one option was better than the other when in fact you don’t know. You made it alive that day, but you don’t have to feel guilty because of that. You have to embrace it for the miracle that it was. I’m sure that neither of them would’ve wanted you to feel torn and guilty for surviving that crash,” he says before he goes quiet, and we both watch the sky brightening at the horizon, signaling the beginning of a new day.
17
Two weeks later
“Oh. I love this weather,” Samira chirps as she opens the windows and slides the curtains to the side.
The clamor of the street and the evening breeze flow in, puffing the drapes, blowing the roses resting in a vase.
Petals fall on the coffee table–– a soft rug of pink, red and white.
She tips her gaze down.
“How beautiful this is...” she says, catching a glimpse of the floral tapestry.
“He’s still sending flowers every day?”
“Yes,” I mutter, smiling softly.
“And you keep all of them way past their time.”
“Yes.”
She shifts her eyes to me, registering my grimace.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes linger on my face.
“Yes. I think I’m a little tired. Today was a long day,” I say, tucking a pillow at my back and leaning against it.
“Well, we stay home tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to stay home on my account. Not on a Saturday anyway. Besides, I’m sure I’ll feel better after a good night of sleep.”
“Did you have something to eat?”
“Not much. I didn’t feel that well after lunch. I think I caught a bug or something.”
She studies my face.
“It could be. You look pale.”
She looks around.
“Do you want a tea or something?”
My hand is already in the air. The idea of anything traveling down my throat right now makes me sick.
“I’m good.”
She bends at her waist to collect the fallen petals.
“You can leave them. They look pretty.”
She straightens her back.
“I agree...” she says, glancing at them before she shifts her eyes to me.
“Well, I’m in my room if you need me. A few people come over tonight. Patrick and Fernando. Rosalie and Jackie. Kadem...” she says, smiling secretly.
My lips curve into a grin.
“How are things between the two of you?”
She gives me a foxy smile.
“Progressing.”
“That’s good,” I say, shifting slightly.
Her eyes fill with concern.
“Are you in pain or something?”
“No, no. It’s just that I feel a little dizzy. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Okay. Maybe you’ll feel better after you take a nap.”
“Yeah... Maybe.”
She vanishes out the door a moment later while I push up to my feet and start shedding my sweatpants and my T-shirt. I change into pajamas and slide under the covers.
My eyes set on the window and the slowly moving curtains as I begin to drift off to sleep.
Minutes tick by or perhaps hours before I become aware of the dream I’m in.
It’s not one of my usual dreams, the kind that it’s all scrambled and makes no sense and I can’t remember much of it the next morning.
It also doesn’t have to do with things that happened during the day or places where Samira and I went shopping.
My mind zooms in and out of what seems to be a cameo of me. At times, I see myself, and then I don’t. At times, I realize that I am dreaming while other times everything feels real.
My memory refuses to collect all these nonsensical bits that amount to nothing before everything starts to come into focus and I finally get to see a little more.
It’s a beautiful place that looks like a palace, one of those sites Samira and I have visited with crystal chandeliers, gold gilded ceilings, Marmara marble floors, Egyptian alabaster, tall colonnades, and paintings on the walls.
Barefoot, I walk across a large room until I reach a courtyard that sprawls under the starry sky. The evening air is warm–– too warm for my taste, and scented wit
h the aroma of fresh roses. Blossomed shrubs shed rose petals that swirl in the air before they get carried by the wind to a carved stone fountain.
I take a few steps in that direction, following the path of petals, my face brushed by the warm breeze. I run a trembling hand over my face, wiping away the pestering sweat.
It’s so hot–– hotter than before, more sweat forming on my brow.
My lips part as I draw in another breath, blistering hot air filling my lungs.
Prompted by a thought, I pivot slightly, glancing at the palace. The very moment I begin to shift, the colors start to fade away, the gold and the crystal, the marble and the alabaster vanishing under my very eyes as the walls turn into ashes, crumbling not far from me.
I take a step back when a faint voice travels to me.
I can’t tell where it’s coming from nor can I make up the words. And when I do, I realize that I don’t understand the words because they’re in a foreign language.
It’s the voice or perhaps the wind and the petals that make me swivel to the fountain that seems much closer to me right now–– an eye of water looking at me.
The water looks tempting as all I want is to quench my thirst and stifle the heat wrapping around my body. My skin burns, the back of my neck damp with sweat, my long, flowing dress stuck to my back.
It’s insanely hot, I muse again before I hear another voice. A different voice this time. I can’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman.
It may be a child–– a boy, perhaps.
I take a small step toward the fountain, the wind playing in my hair.
My locks are long, almost reaching my waist while my dress is now completely white, draping over one shoulder, Grecian style, with one of those beautiful golden trims.
It slides off my shoulder, exposing more of my skin to the scorching air.
Whispers make me shift my focus to the fountain where white moonlight pouring from the sky, dives into the water.
Setting my hands on the edge, I glance at my reflection.
For a few seconds, I see nothing but the dark sky and the full silver moon, and then I hear the voices again––men and women, their voices tangled, echoing far away from me except for one voice that rings out so close to me.
The voice of the little boy.
More voices clamor in the background.
A random thought makes me want to pull away again when the boy’s voice begins to sing to me, making me stay.
I have no idea where it’s coming from. I tip my gaze down again, the water mirror reflecting an image to me this time... that it’s not me.
It’s him, the little boy, his image fading in and out... He’s staring at me, smiling–– even waving at me, his eyes so warm, and blue, like mine.
And then a voice thunders in my head. A man’s voice. Angry, and shouting.
One last glance at the water makes me catch the image of the boy again before it fades away for good, at the same time the bottom of my dress snagging my gaze.
A gasp fills my mouth as all I see from my waist down is red.
Gushing blood soaking my dress as my skin starts burning, covered in flames. The hot wind turns into a cloud of smoke that pushes its way into my lungs, suffocating me.
I start to cough when a strong arm curls around me, lifts me as if I bear no weight and carries me away... Away from the castle and the fountain, the starry sky, and the little boy.
My lungs fill with nothing but heat as I fight my way back to my awareness, the arms taking me through a curtain of flying ashes, dragging me into a new reality.
A voice I know booms in my ears.
“Stay with me, baby. Stay with me for fuck’s sake...”
I swear, I can hear the pounding of his heart as much as I feel his iron grip on my body.
My eyes open to a room I barely recognize.
My space is filled with smoke, the drapes burning, the roses no longer white and pink and red, but gray, ashes and sparks floating in the air, spinning into a crazy dance all around us.
Away from my bed, he carries me across the room and down the burning stairs.
“Stay with me, baby. Please stay with me...”
My arms go around his neck, my gaze taking a snapshot of the muscles pulsing in his neck from the exertion, his tense lips and eyes sparkling with emotion.
His white shirt is no longer bright as ashes smudge his suit and neck.
“Ed...” I murmur, locking my arms around his neck.
No longer believing that this is the reality.
It can’t be. He can’t be here.
There’s no way he can be here. He said he’d come on Sunday.
Today is not Sunday.
What day is today?
My mind doesn’t want to help at all, so I leave that question unanswered, my eyes shifting to the man I so much love.
He’s worried, so worried, while I try to anchor myself in reality and understand what’s going on with me.
But as I feel his heart beating against mine, I no longer care if this is just another dream or reality I can’t explain.
The door falls open as he kicks it down before we slip out of the house and into the front yard that looks like a snowball now except there is no snow, only the sparks from the fire and the flying ashes.
“Here,” he thunders again, the throbbing lights of an ambulance flooding the street.
A chorus of voices fill the air, men shouting orders, a woman responding to them.
It all starts to fade away into a background I no longer recognize. The man’s arms are gone as other people lift me, and my consciousness slips away from me, everything turning black.
EDWARD
“Miss Porter is in stable condition,” the doctor rushes to state as soon as we shake hands and he slides into his chair.
I take a seat across from him, tense in my suit, my hand going instinctively to my tie, brushing the soft fabric.
Bright morning light sweeps his office. A bookcase crammed with medical books leans against the wall, a desk, a chair and the armchair I’m sitting in filling the space.
The physician–– an older man, is distinguished, has a sharp gaze and a thick accent.
He assesses me for a few seconds, his eyes moving from my suit to my face before he locks my gaze.
I tip my eyes down for a moment as I read the name and title on his badge.
Dr. Orhan Asani, Emeritus Professor.
“I hope you had the chance to get some sleep,” he says, noticing the dark shadows below my eyes.
“Some, not much...” I say, anxious to hear more about Thea’s condition.
He glances at me one last time before he starts reviewing the file in front of him.
“I only have good news,” he says with a sense of humor that seems awkward under the circumstances, but I welcome it nonetheless.
“Miss Porter hasn’t sustained any burns, which is truly a miracle. You arrived on time, Mr. Preston, and thanks to you, she’s expected to have a quick and full recovery. We ran several tests on her to make sure everything looks good. We also administered her fluids. She will need to rest, and soon, she’ll be able to go home.”
“Okay...” I say, waiting for him to continue.
He pauses for a moment, his eyes slanted down as he reads something on a tablet.
“There is something else...” he says.
For a moment, I can’t read his expression, and I feel the fangs of concern sinking into my chest.
He lifts his gaze.
“And that may explain why Miss Porter felt so weak and not herself these past few days.”
I look at him unable to articulate a word.
A small grin curls his lips.
“Miss Porter is pregnant,” he says, gauging my reaction.
My eyebrows flick up in surprise.
“Pregnant?”
I look at him dumbfounded.
The man’s grin widens as he softly nods.
“Yes.”
“Pregnant
...” I mutter, still having a hard time to process the information.
The man’s eyes flicker warmly as he takes in my reaction.
“Yes. She will have a baby.”
Finally, his words sink in.
“Um... Okay... All right. Is everything okay with the baby?” I ask, hoping for more good news.
He nods, content with my reaction.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
My lips part as my fingers slide through my hair and my gaze tips down.
He pushes his chair back.
“I’ll let you digest the information before you go to see her,” he says rising to his feet.
“Sure,” I say, pushing out of my chair as well.
He looks at me as he starts to pivot away.
“Just a quick note,” he says.
“Yes.”
“She doesn’t know yet, in case you’d like to tell her yourself.”
The corners of my mouth lift with a smile.
“Yes, sure. Thank you.”
I shake the man’s hand.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” I say before he nods me goodbye and vanishes out the door.
My head is spinning, my heart bouncing in my chest.
It takes me a few moments to pull myself together before I run my hands through my hair again and check the time on my phone.
It’s too early to call James and Lex.
I can’t stop myself from smiling.
I even clear my throat before I leave the professor’s office and walk down the corridor, heading to her room. A nurse exits as I get ready to enter.
She smiles as I hold the door open for her before I walk in. Thea’s hair, splayed on the pillow is the first thing I see.
Her face is tipped toward the window, her eyes glued to a patch of sky visible through the glass.
She swivels her head to me the moment she hears the sound of my footsteps, a grin lighting up her eyes.
