by Boris Bacic
“What’s your problem, Tom?” she asked, feeling irked at his raised tone.
“My problem is that you asked me to give you a lift to your mom’s place, and the entire time, from the moment the ride started, you’ve been dictating shit!”
“I haven’t been dictating anything,” Cheryl disagreed.
“Yes, you have. Can we go earlier? Can we stop at this station so I can pee? Can you hurry up? You’re driving too carefully. If you don’t like my terms, Cheryl, then you can just drive your own car to see your mom.”
That came as a gut punch to Cheryl. Had Tom been annoyed with her this entire time and just refused to say anything?
“Well, excuse me for having a small bladder. If I knew that you couldn’t stand me so much, I would have found someone else to give me a ride,” she retorted, a little more docilely.
She hoped that Tom would refute her statement about him not standing her. He didn’t.
Tom sighed and went silent. He pressed the button to turn the radio off, leaving only the sound of the car’s roaring engine. With the absence of music, the tension in the air was almost palpable. Cheryl cast a furtive glance at him in time to see him run a hand through his thick hair.
“Seriously, Tom. What’s going on with you lately? I feel like you’re holding a grudge against me for everything I do.”
Tom stared at the desolate road ahead.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said soft-spokenly, still staring out the front of the car.
Cheryl felt dread building up inside her. A cold shiver enveloped her as she focused her gaze on Tom undividedly.
“I’ve been thinking about things lately,” Tom continued.
He suddenly looked uncomfortable, his face pensive, as if he contemplated how to form a sentence without hurting Cheryl.
“What things?” Cheryl asked confusedly.
“About… about us, Cheryl.”
That final word sent another punch to Cheryl’s gut. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what Tom was saying. And yet, she knew exactly what he was saying, she just refused to acknowledge it.
“What are you saying?” she asked, with a quivering tone.
Tom scratched his cheek.
“I tried envisioning our future together. I really did. But I just… I’m sorry, Cheryl.”
“Why are you sorry? I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Tom,” Cheryl was aware of the petulance in her near-the-edge crying tone, but she ignored it.
“I think we should go our own separate ways,” Tom spat out in one quick breath.
Cheryl felt dizzy. Where the hell was this coming from? Tom was dumping her? No, that couldn’t be happening. When they first met, she was the one who contemplated dumping him. And now, he was dumping her?
Cheryl cleared her throat, “I don’t understand. Are… are you not happy with me anymore?”
Tom looked reluctant to say anything, but his silence was answer enough for Cheryl. And then, just like that, she felt anger boiling inside her.
“This is because of Paula, isn’t it?” she asked furiously.
Tom’s eyes momentarily widened, but he continued focusing on the road. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He was about to deny it, Cheryl was sure of it.
“I’m sorry, Cheryl,” he finally said to Cheryl’s surprise. “Paula and I… we have more things in common.”
This definitely couldn’t possibly be happening. Her friend Paula? Tom’s been cheating on Cheryl with her?! For a moment, Cheryl was dumbstruck. But then boiling anger took control of her.
“You cheated on me? With Paula?! Did you fucking sleep with her?”
She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear that answer.
“Cheryl, I—”
“Stop the car,” Cheryl demanded.
“What?” Tom asked in confusion.
“I said, stop the fucking car!”
“Are you out of your mind? We’re in the middle of nowhe—” before he could finish that sentence, Cheryl started pummeling him with closed fists.
She didn’t get any good hits, but Tom became disoriented. He cursed and lost control of the steering wheel. Cheryl lolled to the side and then lurched forward before the car came to a complete halt on the side of the road.
Tom let the engine continue running, and before he could recover, Cheryl unbuckled her seatbelt, pushed the door open, and hopped outside, not bothering to close the door behind her. Tear-stricken, she broke into a stride towards the road that ended on the horizon. She heard the car’s engine stopping its whirring.
“Cheryl, wait!” Tom called out from behind. “Just let me explain myself at least!”
“Explain what?!” Cheryl spread her arms and turned towards him, continuing her walk backward. “That you’ve been fucking Paula behind my back? The entire football team has had a go at her, you know!”
“Cheryl, you can’t go on foot. You don’t even know where we are.”
“I’ll be dead before I ride with you in the same car where you fucked that whore!” Cheryl shrieked.
“I didn’t sleep with her in the car,” Tom justified himself.
“Oh, that’s a real fucking relief, Tom!”
“Come on, get back in the car, Cheryl.”
“Fuck you!”
“Cheryl, get back in the car, or I’ll be following you until you change your mind.”
Tom’s voice was atonal, but still somewhat threatening. Cheryl still had the surge of anger coursing through her. She bent down and picked up a small rock.
“Cheryl, don’t!” Tom ducked, just as Cheryl hurled the rock at the car.
The rock landed on the hood with a metallic thud and fell to the side. Tom glanced at the hood and the small scratch that appeared on the surface of the vehicle. Now it was Tom’s turn to get angry, and that anger was unmatched by the hostility he displayed back in the car.
“You crazy bitch! Fine! I hope you get eaten by a pack of coyotes!”
With that, he jumped back inside the car, started it and made a U-turn, driving off in a cloud of dust. Cheryl watched as Tom’s car grew distant until it disappeared behind the rows of trees, along with the sound of his engine.
She was alone in the middle of nowhere.
Chapter 3
The first thing that Jill became aware of was the cacophony of intermittent mechanical beeping and the soft music that played in the room. Violet walked in first and pressed the button on top of the radio on the nightstand. The soft music stopped, leaving only the beeping. Jill followed closely behind.
She suddenly became aware that she was holding her breath. She didn’t think that seeing her mother in whatever state she was in would impact her in any way. She was dead wrong. As she stepped inside the room and glanced at the bed, she felt as if she got hit by a ton of bricks.
Her mother lay on her back in bed, eyes closed, face pallid, her temple and eye bruised, her forearms scratched up. She had tubes coming out of her nose, and her fingertips had wires attached to a big machine next to her bed. The other hand was splayed over her chest. The machine had an EKG screen, and right now, it steadily beeped, the chart bouncing up every couple of seconds. Along with everything, there was a distinct redolence inside the room, which Jill likened to the smell of old people and medicine.
She suddenly felt sick. Until now, she had always laughed when someone said that sitting down would be a good idea before receiving bad news. Now as she stared at her mother’s comatose body, she felt the strength in her legs waning, threatening to buckle under her.
“Are you feeling alright, Jill?” Violet must have noticed Jill’s reaction.
Jill nodded fervently.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just need to sit for a moment,” she said in one quick breath as she slumped into one of the chairs in front of the bed.
“I understand that seeing a family member in this condition is not a pleasant sight. If you want, I can make you some hot chocolate or tea,” Violet’s voice was more of a whisper now, as
if she didn’t want to wake up Jill’s mom from the coma.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Jill politely refused.
She averted her gaze from her mother’s still body towards Violet. She honestly wanted nothing more than to leave this room—no, this entire house—as soon as possible. She couldn’t imagine that Cheryl would insist they take care of Mom themselves when she obviously needed professional medical care.
“So uh, what exactly do I need to do with her?” Jill cleared her throat.
“Right. There aren’t many things that you’ll need to worry about since I’ll be doing most of them. But here are a couple of things to keep in mind.”
Violet walked over to the old bedroom vanity and picked up a piece of paper from it. She turned towards Jill and sat on the chair beside her. She flipped the paper over so that Jill could see it, and pointed to the first item on the list.
Over the next ten or so minutes, she went through all the things that Jill needed to do to take care of her mother. There wasn’t much to be done, especially since Violet would still be doing most of the work. All she needed to do was make sure that her mom’s diaper didn’t need to be changed, check the bed for wetting, re-adjust the catheter, if necessary, and talk to her from time to time.
Violet would be doing most of the legwork—feeding her, giving her baths twice a week, checking to make sure that the machine keeping Mom alive was working properly, moving her to prevent her muscles from atrophying and avoid bedsores, etc.
Once all the items on the list were explained, Violet put the paper in her lap and stared at Jill with the look of a discontented teacher.
“Did you get all that?” she asked sternly.
“Yes.”
“Good. Then I’ll show you how to set up the catheter and work with the machine. You know how to change diapers. You have a child, correct?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jill was a bit taken aback by the question, but tried to hide her surprise.
Violet must have really done her homework on Jill—and probably Cheryl—while staying in the house this week. A thought suddenly occurred to her that she should make sure that nothing was stolen from the house. She hated to think that Violet would rob a comatose patient, but Jill had heard of those kinds of things—and worse—happening with RNs.
“Good. In that case, I’ll let you have a moment alone with your mother,” Violet patted Jill on the knee and stood up.
“Actually, Violet, I’m going to look around the house. If that’s okay with you,” Jill politely stated.
“Of course. It’s your mother’s house, after all. I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but if you intended on selling the house, now would be a good time to go rummaging through the things. This is a big house, and there are plenty of items that may have good value to them. I’ll be down in the kitchen if you need me.”
“Thank you,” Jill smiled courteously.
Violet walked out of the room, leaving the steady beeping as the only remaining sound. Jill felt uncomfortable listening to the EKG machine, and she felt even more uncomfortable staring at her mother. She wondered for a moment if she should expect her to wake up, and if that happened, what she should do. The thought of her mother waking up while screaming and flailing filled Jill with an inexplicable fear.
She quickly followed Violet outside into the hallway and closed the door behind her, instantly muffling the beeping of the machine, much to her elation. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and started towards her old room. She looked through her notifications and realized that she had received no messages.
She’d been expecting a message or a missed call from Dennis Lazarev, the attorney she hired to help her and Cheryl get all the legal affairs in order. She still didn’t know what Cheryl’s intentions were, but she doubted that she’d want to stay here and take care of her comatose mother.
She had her life, after all. She was in college in California, and there’s no way she’d be able to put all her plans on the back burner. Not that she would probably want to, either. Jill didn’t see Cheryl as the kind of person to drop partying and hanging out with friends in order to do a full-time job as a home nurse for free. But who knows, maybe some things had changed since the last time she and Jill spoke.
Just as Jill was about to call the lawyer, she heard the doorbell ring.
Chapter 4
Cheryl checked her phone again. Still no reception. She tried making a phone call to her best friend Maddie since she had a car and would come pick her up without hesitation, but the call didn’t go through. Even sending messages didn’t seem to work out here.
Her only hope was to reach Medford and hitch a ride to Sams Valley where Mom’s house was. Cheryl had some cash on her, but she wasn’t sure if that would be enough to cover the costs of a cab or an Uber. When she still lived with her parents and Dad brought her and Jill to school, it took about fifteen minutes of driving, but then again, Dad always drove much faster than intended by traffic laws.
Whenever he finished the ride super fast, Cheryl would be exuberant, while Jill would continuously reprimand him for breaking the traffic laws and setting a bad example for Cheryl.
He would always shrug it off, turn to Cheryl and tell her, “Remember, sweetheart. Just because I’m driving like this doesn’t mean you should. I’m only doing this because I’m in a hurry. And because I know where the cops are. But I’ll teach you everything once you get a driver’s license.”
Cheryl would always laugh at that, while Jill would sulk from the front seat. Now, as an adult, Cheryl still enjoyed the fast rides, and she thought that she would love driving fast, too, but that wasn’t the case. Although she had a driver’s license, she wasn’t confident enough to put the pedal to the metal.
She always imagined as a kid that she and Dad would go on fast driving road trips together once she became an adult, but unfortunately, Dad wasn’t here anymore, so he couldn’t teach her all the things he promised.
Cheryl suddenly felt sadness creeping up on her, but the anger from her conversation with Tom still seeped out of her like from a leaking pipe, and it in itself didn’t allow the sadness to overwhelm her.
She still couldn’t fucking believe it.
Tom cheating on her with Paula.
Cheryl and Paula were good friends, and even though Cheryl didn’t exactly have respect for her due to her prurient way of living, she didn’t openly judge her about it. All this time, Paula has been fucking Tom behind her back. Cheryl remembered just two nights ago sending screenshots of Tom’s and Cheryl’s conversations about what sexual things he would like to do to her once they met up. She thought she noticed a change in Paula’s demeanor after sending her the screenshots.
The thought of her friend knowing about all of it—maybe even knowing that Tom intended on breaking up with her—and then sending her sexual messages made Cheryl feel sick.
She knew that Paula was a slut, and she knew that the odds of her stealing someone’s boyfriend were not low. It had happened before with Abigail and her ex-boyfriend Roger, and then an entire drama broke out before Abigail and Paula stopped talking to each other.
Abigail kept warning Cheryl to keep tabs on Tom because it seemed like Paula took a liking to him some time ago. Cheryl dismissed that. She thought there was no way Paula would do something like that to her, especially since the whole Roger thing was a misunderstanding.
That’s what Paula said, at least. That she was the victim in that situation. And Cheryl believed her.
God, I’m such an idiot, she chided herself.
She proceeded to calm herself down. Tom’s and Paula’s relationship would never work. Paula would end up cheating on him or dumping him as soon as she got bored of him. Happened to Roger, and countless other guys. She changed guys more often than she changed socks.
Tom would end up miserable. He might even crawl back to Cheryl and beg forgiveness—and Cheryl would deny it to him.
As for Paula; she would not have a bright future, Cheryl was
sure of it. She’d end up fucking guys until she one day decided that it’s time to settle down and then find the first guy willing to marry her—provided she didn’t become a single mother before then, which was very likely, due to the fact that she already had one abortion.
Cheryl found some comfort in the thought of such karmic justice. It was enough to calm her down, at least a little bit.
She must have been walking for almost thirty minutes when she heard the whirring of an engine somewhere in the distance. At first, she couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but when she turned around, she saw a truck in the distance, slowly approaching her.
No, not slowly. It just seemed that way because it was so far away. The roaring of the truck’s engine increased in loudness, slowly, but steadily. Cheryl stopped on the side of the road, outstretched her arm, and stuck out her thumb.
Please, for the love of god, stop and give me a ride.
The truck showed no signs of slowing down, and it would soon drive past her. Just when she decided to lower her arm, she saw the truck coming to a sudden halt. Cheryl got overwhelmed with an intense relief, only just then becoming aware of the thirst and the aching in her feet.
The truck stopped right next to her with a screech, and the door on the passenger’s side opened. Inside the truck sat a short, round man with a red cap that clearly hid the balding top of his head.
He ogled Cheryl in a way she didn’t like and asked, “Well, what are you doing out here by yourself, girl?”
“It’s a long story,” she shook her head.
“Where you heading?” the driver asked.
“Sams Valley. But Medford is fine,” she smiled.
“You’re in luck, girl. I’m going through Medford, but you’ll have to find your own way to Sams Valley. I would take you there, but my asshole boss keeps a close eye on my routes ever since a recent incident with some missing gas.”