Page 6 of Reckless
On my period, I had cramps and was bitchy, so when I normally would have ridden along, Dad went to pick up my brother from basketball practice alone. And they were late. Very late. Neither were answering their phones—we’d tried calling and texting numerous times.
The night streamed through the windows, the blackness outside taunting Mom and me with its empty silence. Mom paced the lovingly placed hand-hewn planks of the living room floor in endless worry.
I checked the time again—almost midnight—as I had every five minutes, waiting for the familiar sound of a key sliding into the front door lock, not daring to say what I was thinking.
Mom let out a relieved, “Oh!” as a car turned into the gravel drive.
But it wasn’t Dad. It was the Hickory County Sheriff who banged on the door and delivered the devastating news.
A drunk driver.
A kid coming back from a party, who’d over imbibed, crossed the yellow line.
He’d died on impact, taking half my family with him only hours later.
At first, I’d refused to believe it, even as my mother screamed and sank to the floor.
After, when the double funeral was over, as my mother lay in bed, zonked on a prescription that had held her together through the proceedings, I told myself to focus on the one positive thing: they hadn’t suffered. Maybe they were the lucky ones. Lucky because I could see nothing but a long empty space of suffering for us, the ones left behind. We would be expected to pick ourselves up and go on, live our lives in the best manner we could.
Maybe I did that, lived as best as I could, but I could never get back to the me I’d beenbefore. Not really. I’d never been exactly reckless, but now, you couldn’t shove me from my comfort zone with a bulldozer.
“How is your mom these days?” Millie continued. “I know she’s still relying on you a lot.”
I nodded slowly. I’d been her rock ever since that day. I supposed we clung to each other, probably in an unhealthy way, but we were all we had left. “Yeah, I still see her almost every day and do the odd things around the house she can’t do herself.”
After a great deal of consideration, I’d finally moved out last year. Distanced myself so she would be forced to do some things herself. It helped some, but I still went over and made sure her bills were paid, that she was eating, not living in filth.
“Can I ask you something?”
I glanced down at our patient again, who was watching me in what looked to be eager curiosity. “Maybe we should focus on Miss Violet first,” I said cautiously, unsure what direction my friend might take our conversation.
Miss Violet had other ideas. “Please do go on, dear. It’s nice to be part of something interesting. It takes my mind off of…” she waved her hand to indicate the room, “everything.”
I searched her sweet face and sighed before looking back at my friend. “Ask away, Millie.” I knew it would do no good to change the subject. Millie was like a hawk sighted in on a mouse when she had her mind set on an issue.
“Where do you think your life would be if it hadn’t been for the accident? Would you still be an RN? Was that your dream?”
I plumped the pillow I’d just slipped into its case, giving it an overly hard whack. I smiled, recalling what my naïve plan had been once upon a time. “I was actually going to follow a famous rock group around the world. Maybe even write a novel or two along the way.”
Millie tossed her head back, and mirth burst from her like fireworks. “Oh yeah? Teenage dreams! Any band in particular?” My breath froze in my chest as she jammed her fists on her hips again, giving me a hard look. “And what’s keeping you from writing right here? I’m sure you would be amazing at it.”
I had to turn away so Millie wouldn’t see the tears that pricked my eyes. “No band in particular.”
Another lie because my mind was screaming one word…Gaged.
God, even thinking the name burned like a stuck bandage being ripped off. Which was why I hadn’t listened to a rock channel in years. “Just a silly, naïve girl’s dream. And I don’t have any time to write. I like being a nurse much better.”
Millie frowned. “No rock. No days off. No boyfriend. You’re living the life of an old woman, and you’re barely two decades.”
“Fuddy dud.” Violet’s finger pointed at me, and she mumbled, “You’re gonna be an old maid. You better get you a man while you still got your bait.”
“My…my bait?” I leaned over her and frowned, wondering if her temperature was spiking. Did she think she was going fishing?
The little lady’s eyes focused on me. “Your bait, girl! Your looks, your attractiveness.” Her head lifted up off the bed, and she whispered, “Your baby maker.”
I held back a surprised snort. Baby maker? “Uh, my bait got lost a long time ago.”
Millie came around to my side of the bed. “Hon, you just think it did.”
