I pondered Jared’s words. I could feel my anger rising again. I reached over to the stereo and turned it on to something more edgy. Jared immediately turned his head and looked at me, a dirty look on his usual hopeful, green-eyed face.
“What?” I smirked, staring back at him. He didn’t answer.
After he dropped me off, I ran up the stairs and into my bedroom. I breathed in the welcoming, certain scent of home. I ran back downstairs, after finding no reason as to why I went up the stairs in the first place. With confusion still brewing in my brain, I collapsed on the leather sofa, flipping on the television. The news came on. Of course, I mean that’s all my parents ever watch, I thought. I sat there still watching it, my mind in another place. It drifted to the conversation I had earlier with Jared. He couldn’t be right. It didn’t make any sense. Restless, I got up from the sofa after an hour and decided to make myself dinner. My parents wouldn’t be home from the casino until later, and Jack was spending the night with a friend. This was usually how this day of the week went.
The next morning was church morning. I got up, overly excited, and slipped on black dress pants, and then my favorite tan knitted sweater my grandma had made me, over a nice, plain brown shirt. Grandma’s sweater was my favorite, and what better day to wear it then today? I looked over at the clock, curious to see what time it was - it was already ten o’clock! Church started at 10:15! Where was Jared?
I was hit with the realization of what he said yesterday, and immediately my heart fell. I pushed the thoughts away and gathered up my belongings for church, motivated by a new idea.
We had three cars, and my parents each took one on their way to work. They always left the Pinto parked in front, to the side of our two-car garage.
I didn’t exactly have my license yet, but I did pass my permit test. Would I be able to do this without getting caught?
Nervously, I put on my winter coat and fixed my hair so it didn’t interfere with the static from my coat. I slipped on my blue winter gloves that had small white snowflakes on top. I didn’t want to wear a hat today, otherwise my hair would frizz up into something I wouldn’t be able to manage. I threw my bag over my shoulder and rushed downstairs and threw on my furry tan boots. I grabbed the keys from the wooden key cabinet and shifted out the door. I got inside and turned on the ignition. It started unwillingly, making loud roaring noises, puttering to heat up. I got back out and began brushing the snow of the front of the windshield. I bit my lip, my heart beating faster. Guilt was starting to take over.
After brushing it off thoroughly, I got inside, my hands shaking, not in bitter cold, but in nervousness. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. I flipped on the windshield wipers, and they slowly brushed the snow apart, and I could see clearly onto the fresh snow-laden driveway.
I put the car in reverse, my hands still shaking, my gut cringing suddenly in bad intuition. I pulled forward and carefully drove down the road, my eyes pacing back and forth. I slowed down at the upcoming stop sign ahead of time, remembering Winter time driving rules. I whipped my head back and forth more than necessary, turning left and pulling up the next road.
Suddenly, as I was moving past a small road to the left of me, I didn’t notice a black vehicle hidden behind a cluster of small, snow-covered bushes. It came out suddenly, pulling out in front of me about ten feet ahead. I gasped, punching on the break and turning my wheel to avoid the oncoming collision. I turned more than necessary and my car slid more than I had bargained for, sending my Pinto into spins. I screamed, trying to maneuver it back into track. I felt the car stop spinning. I breathed out. To end my relief, an unexpected boisterous horn grew louder within seconds, and before I knew it, my world went black.
Mumbles of sound rippled through my mind, what sounded like distant voices speaking. It felt like I was dreaming, but the voices were gradually growing louder. As the sounds became clearer, I could distinguish a lower-pitched voice and a higher one. Some words were clearer than the others.
“...surgery?” One of the voices spoke, anxiously.
“...might not be necessary, there are many more options...special care...” the deeper voice replied, calmly.
“Is she gonna be alright?” Came from what I could tell now as a woman’s close panicky voice. It sounded like she was saying this right into my ear.
“Yes, yes, she will be just fine, don’t worry.” The deeper voice was growing louder, my consciousness recurring.
Bright light seeped penetratingly through my eyelids as I began to open my eyes. A blur of color appeared, and I distinguished figures standing to the right and left of me. I could hear clearly what they were saying now. My vision came into focus, and I recognized my mother standing to the right of me, leaning over my bedside, softly stroking my hair. A tale, blonde-haired doctor stood to the left of me, looking into my face. A slight smirk of approval was spread on his face.
“M-mom?” I studdered, hardly able to get the words out. My lips felt like they were glued together.
“Becca, honey, you’re in the hospital. You were in a bad accident.” She said, carefully placing her hand on mine and stroking my hand with the tip of her thumb. Her face, I noticed, was red from crying and she started to cry again as she spoke those words.
It wasn’t until then that I remembered the spin outs, and the loud horn coming at me after the spinning finally stopped. My heart raced in a mixture of guilt, panic, and fear as I recollected these thoughts.
“Mom, I am so sorry-” I burst out suddenly, but she interrupted me.
“Honey, don’t upset yourself right now. We’ll talk about that later, but for now, I am so thankful that you’re even alive!” My mom’s voice cracked on the word so, making her sound so much more upset than she really was.
I relaxed a little in the hospital bed, slightly relieved. For once, I noticed the light blue walls of the room, and the extremely old-fashioned border wallpaper near the start of the ceiling. I remembered these details from the last time I was in the hospital; I was eight years old, knee split open from playing hide-go-seek with the neighborhood kids. Tripping over a large stone on my sprint to safe, I landed myself right on top of a sharp, edgy rock sticking out of the dirt driveway. The rock came right through my knee on impact. I don’t even remember the trip to the hospital, just the pain that resulted from the stitches pulling in and out of my skin.
“Well, I’ll leave you to rest now, Rebecca, and I’ll check up on you in a little while. Is there anything I can get you?” The doctor looked at me now, with kind eyes. He turned and stalked out of the door, his long legs carrying his weight almost in perfection.
Just then, a soft, but repetitious knocking came on the door from behind the cream-colored hospital curtain which separated my quarters from another person’s. I wasn’t sure if there was anyone stationed to the left of me. There appeared to be two spaces in this room, and I was lying in the farthest one, near the window.
In came Pastor Dennis, looking quite worried. I forgot about him almost entirely, but I stayed still where I was, unsure of how to react. What would he think of me, lying in a hospital bed, here because of some idiotic decision that I had made earlier that morning?
No comments:
Post a Comment