by Tara Sivec
Why the hell wasn’t I good enough for a life like that?
Today is the annual town festival to benefit the children’s wing of the hospital. During the day, there is a fair set up in the park with tons of booths, including blood and platelet donation mobiles, and tonight is the fireman versus policeman Fight Night. It’s a great event that always brings in crowds of people and it’s the one part of my job I actually look forward to doing. Today, however, I feel like there is a black cloud of doom hovering over me. My calls to the warden at the prison were never returned, but after a few days, it didn’t even matter. A certified letter came to my house yesterday informing me that inmate number 45089 qualified for parole and if I have any questions, I should contact his parole officer.
The anticipation of waiting for my father to show up in my life has put me on edge. The cloak and dagger bullshit with the notes is bad enough. He needs to just show his face already so I can tell him to go to hell where he belongs. I’m not the same little girl he pushed around and threatened. I knew he wouldn’t stay behind bars forever. The random reports I received from the prison told me he was a model prisoner, never getting into fights and even offering to mentor new men. He put on a great show, I’ll give him that. He might have been able to fool the guards and the parole board into thinking he’s changed, but he’ll never fool me.
At least working the blood drive keeps me from putting any more marks on my body for the time being. The searing pain in my heart while I stand here wishing for something I never had hurts more than any burn on my skin.
“We’re good here if you want to take a break,” Suzy informs me as she finishes with a donor, placing a Band-Aid on their arm and pointing them outside towards the juice and cookie table.
“I think I’m going to head over to the platelet donation truck. It’s been about a year since I last donated,” I tell her, grabbing my cell phone from one of the upper cabinets in the donation truck. “I should only be about an hour. If you need me, just give me a call.”
The donation trucks are parked right next to each other by the curb with a couple tables filled with pamphlets and other donation information separating them. A few yards away from the trucks, I see a man squatting down, speaking to a little girl. He leans in to kiss her cheek and I let the pain of seeing the kind of affection I’ve never experienced wrap around me and fill me with determination: to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, to keep the walls up around my heart so no one has the power to hurt me ever again and to never, ever need someone to take care of me. I won’t let myself think of the kiss DJ and I shared at the hospital and how badly I wanted to just confide in him and let him take care of my problems. Too bad he’s the root of half of them.
As I continue to stare as I walk, the man looks up and our eyes meet. I stop where I’m at and don’t realize I’m smiling until he his face lights up and he quickly stands.
“Phina! I wondered if I’d see you here.”
Jackson Castillo was a boy I dated briefly in college who turned out to be quite a nice-looking man. He only had two marks against him – he was entirely too nice and he was Finnley’s loser husband’s cousin. At the time we dated, the whole cousin thing wasn’t really a bad thing. Finnley set us up and I actually let her fantasize for a few months about us marrying cousins, living next to each other and living happily ever after. In the end, I couldn’t handle all that nice. No matter what I did or said to him, he kept coming back for more. It was like kicking a fucking puppy. He always apologized even if I was wrong and he was just too…sweet. I couldn’t handle all that good in my life. It made me feel twice as horrible about the kind of person I was, and every time he gave me a compliment, I wanted to scream and claw at my face to make him see just how truly ugly I was.
“Jackson, it’s been a long time. I didn’t realize you were…that you had a…” I pause, nodding in the direction of the little girl.
He looks at her and then back at me before chuckling. “Oh, no. She’s not mine. Phina, this is my niece, Andreonna.”
I smile down at the girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, who looks to be around five years old. She gives me a shy wave before hiding behind Jackson’s legs.
“She’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“And she knows it, when she’s not being so bashful,” he jokes. “I’m not going to lie, I kind of had my fingers crossed that you’d be here today. I might have had ulterior motives when I asked my brother if I could bring Andy to the park.”
I look at him in confusion. “How did you know I might be here?”
He winces, shrugging his shoulders and I immediately see where Andreonna gets her bashfulness.
“Finn used to talk about you all the time when our families got together. She always let me know what you were up to, and I remember her telling me that you volunteer at this thing every year.”
Guilt rushes through me when he mentions his family. Even though we dated what seems like eons ago, I still saw him from time to time when I was with Finnley since he was related to her husband. I didn’t go to Jordan’s funeral out of respect for Finnley. That bastard didn’t deserve any type of mourning, but I should have gone for Jackson and the rest of his family. They were good people and, even though one of their own tried to kill my best friend and her now-fiancé, he was still a part of their family. You don’t go to funerals for the ones who died, you go to support the ones left behind.
“I’m so sorry about Jordan,” I tell him softly, even though I don’t really mean it. Jordan is where he belongs. My sympathy is solely for Jackson and his grief.
He shrugs again and gives me a sad smile. “I should be the one apologizing. He was like a brother to me, but I had no idea how fucked up he was.”
Jackson reaches behind him and grabs Andreonna’s hand. “Well, I should probably get this little munchkin over to the face painting booth before I have to go back to work.”
I finally stop staring at his handsome face long enough to realize he’s in uniform. I completely forgot that he works for the local police department.
“Finnley told me you took some time off after the funeral. It’s good to see that you’re back at work.”
“Well, not back completely. There are still a few loose ends to tie up with the family, but I volunteered to work security today and tonight at Fight Night up at the firehouse. Are you going?”
Honestly, I hadn’t planned on going to see a bunch of Neanderthals beat the snot out of each other, but there’s something about the hopeful look on Jackson’s face that makes me want to change my mind. I know that no matter how grown up he is now or how good looking he is in his police uniform, he’s still off-limits for me, but I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him and it couldn’t hurt to have another police officer on my side if and when things start to escalate with my father.
“I’m not sure yet. Boxing isn’t really my thing,” I tell him.
“There will be sweaty men with their shirts off all night. What woman wouldn’t jump at the chance to see something like that?” he asks with a laugh.
I laugh along with him and for just a moment, I feel normal. Like a woman who can stand in the middle of a park surrounded by happy families and joke with a sweet man. I need more normal in my damn life. It doesn’t matter that I’m purposefully blocking out the kiss of another man or the feel of his hands on my body. It doesn’t matter that when I get home later, my life will still be the same ball of shit it always has been or that I spend all day waiting for the man from my nightmares to show up and make good on his threats about giving me what I deserve.
With another wave to Andreonna and a promise to Jackson that I’ll try and make it to Fight Night, I walk the rest of the way to the platelet donation truck with a smile on my face. I keep the smile firmly in place when I see the ambulance parked in front of the truck and I even go so far as to smile even wider when I see the very unhappy face of the man who kissed me as he leans against the side of the vehicle with his arms crossed in front of
him. DJ’s narrowed eyes follow me the entire way as I open the door to the truck and walk up the steps inside. I can see his glare through the front windshield of the truck and curse myself for the stupid goose bumps that pebble my skin from just the force of his stare.
I’m like a fucking teenager all over again, giddy with the thought that I just made him jealous by talking to another man. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms angrily to get rid of the goose bumps, I don a fake smile for the nurse as she gets me situated on a portable bed and begins the process of hooking up my IV line for the platelet donation.
A gentle pat on my arm jerks me awake.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the nurse says with a kind smile. “You’re all finished. I’m guessing I don’t need to tell you to take it easy and grab some juice and cookies on your way out.”
She points to my pale blue scrubs with my hospital ID pinned to it.
“Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with the do’s and don’ts,” I tell her with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry I fell asleep there.”
She helps me up from the bed and I sway a little, grabbing onto her arm for support.
“Whoa! Maybe I do need to go over the platelet donation checklist with you,” she says in a concerned voice.
I shake the cobwebs from my head and extract myself from her grip on my arms. “No, it’s fine. I’ll make sure to grab as many cookies as I can.”
She watches me like a hawk as I walk down the steps of the truck, going so far as to follow me to the bottom step and make sure I go right over to the table of refreshments. I ignore the pounding in my head and the tingling in my hands and arms as I smile and wave at her over my shoulder.
I’ve always felt a little bit woozy after a platelet donation. It’s a little tougher on your body than just giving blood since a small portion of blood is drawn from your arm and is then filtered through a cell-separating machine to take out the platelets. After the platelets are removed, your blood is filtered back into you with a little bit of saline. The whole process takes about an hour and when I’ve donated in the past, the lightheadedness is gone after a few minutes and I can be on my way. As I brace my hands on top of the refreshment table and squeeze my eyes closed as I start to see black spots, something tells me it’s going to take a little bit longer than normal for the wooziness to pass this time. I made sure to eat a huge breakfast before I left the house today since I knew I’d be donating, hoping the extra sugar and carbs would help afterwards, but something isn’t right.
When I slowly open my eyes, the black spots are still dancing in my vision and now everything in front of me is blurry. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might explode. I need to calm the fuck down. Freaking out isn’t going to make this any better.
The tingling in my hands and arms has gotten worse and when I lift one hand from the table to try and shake the feeling away, I feel my body start to list to the side. I quickly grab the table again, holding onto it for dear life. My hands start shaking so hard against the table that I hear packages of cookies and paper cups filled with juice start to bounce around on top. The black spots at the edge of my vision have turned into bright bursts of light that make my head feel like it’s in a vice.
“Ma’am, are you alright?”
I hear a voice speaking next to me, but I can’t make any words form to answer whoever it is. This isn’t normal and I know immediately that something is seriously wrong with me.
My heart beats faster and faster and I break out in a cold sweat. I can feel every inch of my body shaking and I grit my teeth to try and make it stop. I look around frantically, opening my mouth to try and scream for someone to help, but the blurry shapes in front of me suddenly swirl and the world tilts on its axis. I feel myself falling and then everything around me goes black.
Fucking woman. She’s going to be the goddamn death of me.
Today was supposed to be a nice, carefree day. One where I could wander through the park, try my hand at a few carnival games to win some prizes for my nieces and nephews, maybe give some oxygen to a few old folks who got overheated and avoid thinking about the shit storm brewing around me. I just wanted one day where my dick wasn’t fighting with my brain over the maddening woman standing fifty feet in front of me, smiling at some douchebag.
Fucking smiling when all she does is snarl at me like a pit bull.
I don’t know who the dude is since all I can see is his back, but I immediately hate the cocksucker for making her laugh. Plus, he’s got a kid. I can’t compete with a cute motherfucking kid. I didn’t even know Phina liked kids. Obviously, she saves her hatred just for me. I came here today wanting to take my mind off of this annoying woman who clearly wants to fuck me, but doesn’t want to speak to me or even like me. I figured it was just a case of lust roaring through my veins and it would go away eventually. It’s not like I thought she had any redeeming fucking qualities. She’s full of piss and vinegar, won’t let anyone close to her aside from Finnley and enjoys pissing me off, going by the extra wide smile she shoots in my direction as she heads towards the truck parked behind my rig when she’s finished talking to the dickhead dad.
I just HAD to go and act like a creepy fucking stalker, following her around all morning and watching her work from a safe enough distance that she couldn’t see me, but I could see and hear everything she said and did.
Seraphina Giordano is sweet. Not just sweet, but kind and thoughtful with a sense of humor. She made funny faces and told silly jokes to every kid who came up to her tent, she charmed every old man who volunteered to give blood and gave hugs to every woman who picked up a pamphlet from her table. When a particularly nervous little boy stood off to the side and watched through the open door of the donation truck as his mother gave blood, Phina pulled him closer, got down to his level and softly explained everything her co-worker was doing to his mother so he wouldn’t be afraid of what was happening to her. Ten minutes after they left the area, the little boy came running back with a fistful of dandelions he’d picked from the grass and thrust them into Phina’s hands. She made a huge production out of smelling the flowers and telling him they were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen, before bending down and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.
Who the fuck IS this woman?
Thank God Collin and Finnley weren’t around to witness my pathetic behavior. As soon as they got here this morning, I sent them on their way to check out the tents and get some food, telling them I had work to do and would meet up with them later. They didn’t need to know that my ‘work’ including figuring out the maddening woman walking towards me.
I continue to glare at her as she puts a little extra sway in her hips while she goes up the steps of the truck and disappears inside. Glancing back to the spot where she stood with that motherfucker and his kid, I see they’ve disappeared into the crowd and I’ve lost my chance to find out who he is. Jesus, I really am a fucking stalker. What the hell was I going to do, walk up to him and threaten him in front of his daughter? “Hey, dick fuck, I don’t know you, but you’re never allowed to make that woman smile again. That smile is for me, and me alone.”
I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
My crazy thoughts are interrupted by a little boy with a splinter in his thumb, a man who thought he was having a heart attack, which thankfully turned out to be indigestion from one too many chili dogs, and at least ten people asking me for directions. Before I know it, an hour has gone by and I hear the swoosh of the truck door parked behind me opening. I watch as Phina steps down from the truck, smiles and waves at the nurse standing on the bottom step and walks over to the cookie and juice table they have set up right next to the truck. She places her hands on top of the table and drops her head between her shoulders. I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone giving platelet donations today and, for the most part, everyone reacts the same. They’re a little off-kilter for a few minutes and then they’re fine. I see Phina lift one hand from the table and can see it shaking erratically fr
om here.
Stupid woman probably forgot to eat breakfast.
I head in her direction with the sole purpose of pissing her off by forcing her to drink some juice when I’m stopped by a woman looking for the french fry stand. By the time I’m finished pointing her in the right direction, I glance over at Phina just in time to see her sway and then collapse like a ton of bricks to the ground right next to the table. My heart plummets straight down to my feet and I stand there in shock for longer than I ever have in an emergency situation. Strong, independent Phina just fucking fainted.
Pulling my head out of my ass, I race to the back of the ambulance, fling open the doors and grab my first responder bag and the portable oxygen tank from the floor, throwing their straps over my shoulder as I sprint over to where she’s lying.
“What happened?” I shout to the man hovering over her as I fall to my knees, throw my bag to the ground and flip the switch on the tank.
“I don’t know, man. I was just standing here drinking my juice. I asked her if she was okay, but she didn’t answer me. Then she just keeled over,” the guy replies in a worried voice behind me.
Placing my hands on either side of her face, I turn her head towards me, not liking the clammy feel of her skin at all. Sweat beads on her forehead and she’s white as a sheet.
“Phina! Baby, can you hear me? Phina, open your eyes,” I tell her softly as I check her pulse on her neck, right behind her jaw. It’s fast…way too fast. Letting go of her face, I reach into my bag for my stethoscope, putting the ear tips in and placing the diaphragm against her chest in the V-neck opening of her scrub top. Her heart is thundering out of control and sounds like a herd of elephants in my ears.
