by Devyn Dawson
I roll up a flour tortilla that I’ve slathered in butter and salsa and take a massive bite. Instead of trying to talk, I give him two thumbs up. It’s nice to carry on a conversation with him without any arguing about me dating. This is like Andy’s house, where everyone talks and no one yells. Since I’ve been dating Tate, I’ve neglected her parents. I can’t wait to see them on Friday.
Silently, we clean up after dinner and put everything away. Knowing this mood won’t last, I set everything in a container that he’ll be able to put in the microwave for dinner tomorrow night. I have to work a double shift tomorrow and won’t be able to make him dinner.
“Hey Peanut, you don’t mind me driving do you? It will feel nice to be behind the wheel again.”
Every once in a while, we go out for a drive and I let him drive my car. It feels awkward to drive him everywhere, so it’s nice to have him in charge.
The summer heat slaps us in the face as we step outside. It doesn’t make any difference that its dusk, the temperature is still in the upper nineties. When Aunt Laney got me the car, she offered me a convertible if I wanted one. She would trade in this car for a used convertible. I told her no. Andy had one and it was always either raining or too hot to take the top down. We would still have to blast the AC even though the top was off. I smile at the memory of her. For the first time in a long time, I feel as though things are on the upswing. I toss the keys to dad as I walk over to the passenger side of the car.
He eases the car onto the highway heading towards our favorite little ice cream stand. I flipped my playlist to Steve Miller, Dad’s favorite band. He sing’s along to The Joker and occasionally looks over and smiles at me.
“You missed our exit,” I say. He’s never needed GPS, he knows this city like the back of his hand.
“I know, I thought we’d go someplace different,” He reaches over and pats my knee and gives me a reassuring look.
“Wow, you’re actually going to go somewhere new? How many times have I tried to get you to go to a place you’ve never been before? This is a treat,” I smile back at him and turn my attention to the farm we’re driving past.
A few minutes and about five farms later, his voice brings me back to the car.
“You know I love you, Holly…don’t you?”
I turn to him and his face is serious, the tip of his nose is turning red. Something it does whenever he’s been crying.
“Of course I do Daddy.” For the first time in forever, I feel like the child instead of the grown up.
“I don’t mean to be crazy, I’m sorry you were given me as your parent. You’ve been my greatest accomplishment. You’re so good to me and that’s why I can’t let you go. I just can’t imagine a world without you in it. I know you’re going to run off with that boy and marry him. No matter how many times I’ve tried to tell myself that he’s good for you. He makes you happy, I see that on your face every time you walk in the door. Trust me Holland, I’ve wanted your happiness since the day you took your first breath.” His voice cracks with emotion as he talks to me.
“Dad, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Suddenly it occurs to me that we’re in danger. “Why don’t you pull over and let me drive to the ice-cream store. I should have made you take your medicine before we left. You’re tired, this is the first time in a while since you’ve been out. Twice in one week can be too much.”
“I can’t do that, Holly. I’m so sorry, I love you but I can’t let you go away with another man. Close your eyes baby, it will be over soon.”
Panic is running through my veins and I want nothing more than to jump from the car. I look over and he’s pushed the gas pedal down and the speedometer climbs past eighty. “Daddy, stop, please! What are you doing? Don’t kill us! OH MY GOD! Stop!” I take my phone out and dial 9-1-1. “Please help me! My dad is driving like crazy down I-44! We just passed mile marker 344. I think he’s going to wreck the car!”
“Good honey, the police will find our bodies faster, good thinking. I love you!”
The very next moment, he jerks the car to the right and we slam through the metal barrier to the bridge. All I hear is the sound of metal and my screams. He keeps saying something and the phone falls from my hands as I grab the handle Andy always called the oh shit bar. We’ve driven off a bridge, however high it is, I don’t know. As we plummet towards boulders and a dried up river, I suddenly hear Andy’s voice in my ear. You’re not alone, are the words I hear.
***
Chapter Sixteen. Alone
“We’re doing everything we can for her,” A man’s voice says to someone in the room.
I try to open my eyes but they’re so heavy I can’t force them open. I try to moan but something is in the way. Something is in my throat that makes me want to cough but I can’t.
“How much longer is she going to be in a coma?” Aunt Laney asks.
I’m in a coma? What happened? I try to lift my hand to tell them I’m awake, it proves to be as hard as it is to open my eyes.
“She’s been through so much, her body needs rest. The blood-work is all looking good. Her kidneys are working well and if you remember a week ago we were talking dialysis. We’re in a waiting game now. The body’s reaction to trauma is to retreat and regroup. She’s been through something incredibly life altering. The bruise on her brain is healing, there’s no swelling so she’s getting better. Encourage her to wake up, tell her she’s not alone and how much you love her. Sometimes people who have no medical reason for not waking up will respond well to people who love them. She can hear you; talk to her. I have to get to surgery. Hang in there, Laney,” the man’s voice says to Aunt Laney.
The fog is thick as I walk to my unknown destination. All I know is someone is on the other side and I want to get to them. I can only see about three feet in front of me. The pathway is uneven, loose rocks shift as I walk across them. Thankfully, a bench is in middle of the path, I need to sit down. If only I could curl up and take a nap I’ll get the rest to make it to my destination. I lay down on the hard surface of the wooden slat bench. My head is heavy but a sound keeps me from closing my eyes and succumbing to the security of sleep. In the distance, someone is singing a song I’ve never heard before. His voice makes me feel as though I’m not alone.
In her eyes I see the way she looks at me
Her heart is on the surface for me to take
She makes me be the best man I can be
What I’d give to see those eyes again, to know she’s awake
To let her know she’s the only one for me
The only one I’ll ever need
We’ll overcome the darkest of nights within loves embrace
Show me your love
Bring me your love
Fight your way back to me
Fight your way back to me
Fight for us
Please fight your way back to me…
***
I try to reach for the blanket, pull it up closer to me. I’m so cold I’m shivering.
“We have to get her fever down. I’ve ordered an ice blanket to help break the fever,” The man’s voice who was here before says.
“How did she get such a bad infection in her leg? She’s in intensive care, so I don’t understand how she got infected,” a male says, his voice is familiar but I can’t put my finger on it.
My leg’s infected? How did that happen? I attempt to get their attention by lifting my finger. My eyes flutter as I try to open them. I’m having a terrible time trying to focus and see who else is in the room with me.
”Look, she’s trying to open her eyes!” The guy says and I assume he’s the one who takes my hand in his.
The doctor rushes to my side and roughly pulls on my eye and shines a light in it. If he was attempting to blind me, he was doing a good job.
“Holland, I’m, Dr. Dewitt and you’re at Baptist Medical Center. You’ve been in a horrific accident and you’re in intensive care. If you understand me, blink your eyes twice,” D
r. Dewitt says in his game-show host voice.
I blink twice as instructed.
“You have a tube down your throat, it’s helping you breath. You had a collapsed lung when you arrived and several broken bones. I just examined your leg and it has a terrible infection. There was a gash in your shin, we had to leave it open for it to drain. We’re doing everything we can to avoid amputating your leg.”
Amputate my leg?! I blink twice to let him know I understood what he was saying to me.
The doctor leans over so he is face to face with me. I feel like a baby does when all the grown-ups are staring at you.
“I’m going to notify your aunt that you’re awake. This gentleman says he’s been dating you so we’ve allowed him to be in your room.”
I turn my head slightly to my right and standing there is, Tate. How did he find out I was in an accident? I try to smile but the tape on my mouth and the lack of moisture on my lips keep me from succeeding. I blink twice.
Tate walks over and takes my hand again. His once flawless skin is ashy and he has dark circles under his eyes. “Hey beautiful,” he whispers.
Out of habit, I try to say hi to him but the tube prevents my attempt. Without warning, my eyes well with tears and they start dripping down the side of my head, some fall straight to the pillow the others drip into my ears. The sickening sound of the ventilator reminds me that my body isn’t mine to control. My chest heaves up with every forced breath and no matter how hard I try to breath for myself I can’t.
“I’m paging them over to wean you down off the vent, your body is weak but you’re young and will heal quickly,” Dr. Dewitt says.
Where’s my Dad? Oh God! Where’s my Dad! My eyes follow the doctor and turn to Tate, I know they’re filled with terror.
Tate’s hand goes up to face and he wipes away my tears. He knows I want to know about my dad, I see it in his eyes. He didn’t survive, if he had, Tate would have said where my dad is, but he didn’t. Oh Daddy.
A nurse comes over and Dr. Dewitt tells her to sedate me so I can rest. I don’t want to rest, I need to get up and find out what happened.
***
Show me your love
Bring me your love
Fight your way back to me
Fight your way back to me
Fight for us
Please fight your way back to me…
He’s softly strumming the guitar and singing the song I’ve heard a few times in my dreams. I pretend to be sleeping to hear the lyrics as they fall from his lips. The song makes my heart want to weep with every word.
“Holland, are you awake?” The screeching of the chair as he stands up startles me.
The room is eerily quiet and I realize the lulling of the ventilator is gone. I try to clear my throat which sounds more like a barking seal.
“Can I have water?” I croak out.
“Let me call a nurse, I don’t know what you’re allowed to have.” He pushes the orange button on the bed and tells the nurse I’m awake. “Holland, I’m so happy to see your beautiful eyes. You’ve been in and out for weeks now. I need to text Aunt Laney, she asked me to let her know if you wake up when I’m here.”
He’s exchanging texts with Aunt Laney? Where’s my dad? “My dad, where is he?” I whisper.
The shocked look on his face gives him away. Tate looks at me and back down to our hands. His face is filled with emotion and his hand is squeezing mine. “He didn’t survive, baby.”
Baby? When did I become baby? “What? How?”
“You both were in an accident, a very bad accident.”
I close my eyes for a moment and my memory takes me back to the moment of metal twisting and the car crashing to the earth. As the car came to a stop after flipping time after time, I was able to drag myself out of the car in time, seconds later it exploded into flames. Oh dammit Dad, why didn’t I give you your medicine? Oh no, how did I not know? I’m so sorry! “I remember,” are the only words I say. I try to roll away from him to escape my broken heart but my body won’t cooperate. My leg feels like lead. I struggle to sit up and Tate pushes a button on the rail and it raises the bed to a sitting position. No matter how bad my heart is breaking into a million pieces, the tears aren’t coming. A lump in my throat won’t allow me to talk, it doesn’t really matter anyway, I have nothing to say.
***
“Good morning, Holland, I’m Dr. Dewitt. We’ve met a couple of times before, how are you feeling.”
Feeling? I feel like shit. “I feel stiff and I have a throbbing headache,” I say with no inflection in my voice. My heart weighs heavily in my chest at the thought of my dad being gone. No matter how difficult he made my life, I never wanted him to be out of it.
“I bet. The headache is from the trauma you suffered and from being in one position for so long. Has anyone discussed the extent of your injuries?”
My injuries aren’t physical. “Not really.”
The doctor pulls a small chair over and opens up my chart. Even though he sounds like a game-show host, he’s young, possibly in his twenties but probably in his thirties. He has short blond hair and a pleasant face but nothing about him is unique or striking. “You’ve had quite an accident. I was working the evening you were brought in on the helicopter. If anyone has a guardian angel, it’s you. After hearing from the rescue crew, it’s amazing you survived such a horrific accident. You broke your right collarbone from your seatbelt and had a straight break in your left wrist, probably from grabbing the dash and the airbag going off at the same time. The break in your pelvis has been healing very well. We won’t know how well until we can get you up and walking once the leg heals. You had an infection but it is getting better. Your white cell count is back to normal, so that’s good. If you’ve had to cough, your ribs might still be tender from being broken. Your last two injuries were your collapsed lung and your traumatic brain injury. Do you understand? Ask me any questions?”
“What happened to my dad? Did they pull him from the car?” Was he charred so bad he wasn’t pulled away before the flames were put out?
Dr. Dewitt nods his head up and down and nervously clicks his ink pen over and over. “Yes, he was pulled from the car. He suffered burns to about three quarters of his body. Along with his other injuries, his body couldn’t take it and he passed away shortly after he arrived here in the burn center. Both of you had a life-flight and were brought here within forty minutes of the accident. I know this is a lot to digest at one time, I’ll let you be for a while. The police have asked for me to contact them when you’re awake so they can get a statement from you. Will it be okay to have them come out tomorrow?”
I must have been holding my breath, because I let out a long sigh. I don’t want to talk to the police. I don’t want to talk to anyone. “That will be fine.”
“You’re a fighter, and I’m glad to see you awake and alert,” Dr. Dewitt says as he walks through the door.
Within minutes a nurse comes in the room and takes my vitals before making an adjustment to the pain pump. She hands me two Tylenol for my headache and puts my bed in a sitting position. Within a minute another woman enters as she carries a tray of hospital grade food. My stomach growls at the smell. I could use a nice strong cup of coffee and something sweet.
Someone is tapping on the door and I tell them to come in. The sun from the small window shines across the room at him, giving him a glow all around. Suddenly I want nothing more than to curl up in his arms and fall asleep. There’s something about his embrace that makes me feel safe and secure. It’s a feeling I haven’t ever experienced before I met him. I never even felt safe in my home after my mom disappeared. When we moved to the hood, we took away the sanctuary of our fancy neighborhood with its homeowner association and community watch program. Now we live in one of the poorest areas with the largest crime rate. I wonder if Aunt Laney has checked the house since I’ve been here. George is probably belly up in middle of his fishbowl.
“Hey beautiful, look at you sit
ting up and eating,” he smiles at me and sits down in the chair.
Regardless how bad I feel, and sick I am over what has happened, my brain can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t given up on me. He’s waited for me all these weeks. The nurses told me that he’s been here every single day before and after work. He’s sat and read Harry Potter to me and other books I told him I loved. One of the nurses said he would sit for hours and strum music on his guitar and sing me songs. They would gather by the door to listen to him sing to me and have all called dibs on him if we break up.
“Hey Tater,” I use the childhood nickname he had hoped to escape. It’s my way of flirting with him.
“I never thought I’d say this, but that is music to my ears. I’ve prayed for me to hear you call me Tater just once. Now that you’ve said it, once is enough.” He winks at me and sets a grocery bag down next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly, I don’t feel too bad except when I cough. I have a headache but they brought me some medicine for it so I should be good before too long. Have you really been coming up here before and after work every day? What about school?”
“Summer break, remember?” He eyes me cautiously.
“Oh yeah. How’s my Aunt Laney? I haven’t seen her yet. How’s she taking my dad’s death?” I’ve worried about her all night. They weren’t on great terms, but she loved him nonetheless, he was her brother.
“She hasn’t said much about him, she’s been worried sick about you. We worked out a schedule so you had someone with you during the days and evenings. The first week was so touch and go with you that both of us slept here at the hospital. She’s a great lady and loves you like her own child,” Tate says. I can tell by the way he’s fidgeting that he’s keeping something from me.
“She is great and has been there for me throughout everything with my dad. Her son, my cousin, drowned when he was fourteen. He was her everything. I was ten when it happened and I remember how sad everyone was at the funeral. He and I were typical cousins before he was a teenager. I’m sure the stress has aggravated her fibromyalgia. When she’s under a lot of stress or gets sick, she’ll have a flair up that can last from days to weeks. Do you know when she’ll be here today?” I adjust the bed and try to slide a pillow behind my back. That simple task shoots pain throughout my body. Tate stands up and helps adjust the bedding. As pain ripples through me, all I can think about is how close he is to me. He smells clean like soap with a hint of his cologne. I relax back into the pillows with a silly grin on my face. I’m probably going to go to hell for thinking about him in that way when we’re talking about the worst day of my aunt’s life. “Thank you.”
