Last Day of My Life

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I’d never spoken to Winter about the conversation I’d had with her sister or her sister’s boyfriend. I didn’t plan to now, either.

  “What do you do for a living?” She asked quietly.

  She was obviously trying to avoid what she really wanted to know, so I answered her, letting her have the time she needed to work up the courage to ask what was on her mind.

  “We rebuild bikes, work on custom cars, custom make bikes, pretty much an eclectic range of things.” I answered thoughtfully. Purposefully steering around the Freebird topic for the time being.

  “My sister is a bad person, isn’t she?” She asked, finally getting to the question at hand.

  I didn’t know how to answer that. Although I spoke with her once a year, I didn’t really know her that well. I just wanted to be sure that she was okay, and not doing something against her will like she was all those years ago.

  “She’s not on drugs from as far as I can tell. She cleaned up about two and a half years ago. Other than when I call her, I never hear from her. I wasn’t in the country when they had your funeral. She wouldn’t wait. For the first three years, she was really hostile towards me and I never understood why.” I said, clearing my throat.

  Reliving those first few years was hard. I was a fucking mess. If it wasn’t for my team, I would have been a goddamn goner. I went through life as if I was indestructible. Hell, if I was being truthful with myself, I’d been acting that way since the day I found out about her death. Or non-death. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

  “I think I’m ready for bed. Is that alright?” She said as she absently ran her hand against my t-shirt covered chest.

  “Yeah, Winnie. Yell at me if you need anything.” I said, curling her into my chest and hugging her.

  She left the room shortly after that, and I listened while she went through the bedtime routine that she used to do all those years ago. Shower. Bathroom. Brush her teeth. Smear lotion onto her feet. Then slipping on socks and an oversized t-shirt. Seven years ago, she used to wear my t-shirt to bed and then snuggle up against me. I vowed then and there that I would have that back. No matter what it took.

  Digging out the phone from my pocket, I decided to check in with Adam to see how things were going.

  “Hello?” Adam answered.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey, man. I was just about to call you. How’s Winter doing?” He asked.

  There was an odd tone in his voice as he asked, which made me aware that something was bothering him. “She’s okay. Something wrong?”

  He coughed, and then I heard the alarm from the fire station sounding in the background. “I’m sorry, man. I gotta go. I’ll call you after my shift.”

  The line clicked after he disconnected, and I couldn’t help but feel annoyed that the call had been interrupted. I just hoped he wasn’t into something he shouldn’t be. The man had a knack for finding trouble. I had the scars to prove it.

  ***

  I blearily opened my eyes and stared at the shadows playing along the ceiling. Something had woken me. Closing my eyes again when I didn’t hear anything, I started to drift back to sleep when I heard it again.

  Knocking. Light knocking. On my door.

  My mind cleared of the sleep induced fog instantly and I came awake with a rude start.

  “Jack?” Winter whispered.

  I was on my feet in the next instant pulling the door open. Winter had on a white oversized t-shirt that hung to about mid-thigh. Her hair was down and in a curly, gnarled mess that surrounded her face. She also had tears staining her cheeks.

  Grabbing her hand and pulling her into my arms I asked, “What’s wrong, Winnie?”

  Her breathing was a little fast, and I could feel her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. Tears started to slide down my bare chest, and I started to really get concerned.

  It wasn’t like Winter to cry. She was a strong, proud girl and she saw crying as a weakness. She told me of the times she had to keep her tears at bay or her psycho mother would flip her switch and start in on her. Consequently, Winter learned to suppress any and all emotion. She buried her reactions so deep that it was hard for her to show them at times.

  “I had a nightmare. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I was wondering if I could sleep on the floor, or something, in your room. Please.” She whispered desolately.

  Leaning my head down, I let my forehead rest against hers. “You can sleep in my bed. Fuck. That’s what I’ve wanted for what feels like a lifetime. To have you steal the covers in the middle of the night. For you to put your cold ass feet in between my thighs. For you to accidentally knee me in the balls. For you to flail and kick. God. I even miss hearing you talk in your sleep. I’d give you the world if you wanted me to.”

  “I don’t talk in my sleep!” She said indignantly.

  I noticed she didn’t deny any of the other accusations.

  Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I tugged her behind me to the bed and held the covers up for her to crawl under. “Sure you don’t. In you go, Winnie.”

  As I released her wrist, I felt the scars that ran up the inside of her wrists, and my heart clenched. I didn’t want to ask her about those either, but I knew those didn’t come from her surgeries. They came from something that tore my heart out and ripped it into a million tiny pulverized pieces.

  I laid down next to her and smiled when I felt her scoot close to my body. Her leg fell in between my open ones and her hand went searching for my own. Clasping our palms together, I brought them to rest on my chest.

  Absently, I let my pinky slip down and run over the puckered scar at her wrist. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I gave the scar a kiss and then settled down and fell asleep. She’d share with me when she was ready; but for now, it was a heavy weight on my soul.

  Chapter 6

  I drink wine because I don’t like to keep things bottled up.

  -E-card

  Winter

  I practically collapsed on the bench outside the office. Jack was picking me up today since he had my car in for some routine maintenance. I was one hundred and ninety eight percent exhausted.

  I kid you not; we had so many bullshit calls over the last twenty-four hours that I was ready to pull my hair out by the end of my shift. The first call was of a young woman who burned her mouth on some soup she’d just received from a restaurant.

  The young woman thought it’d be best to ride to the hospital in the ambulance since she wasn’t sure if she could drive or not. Police were called in during the middle of the call because said patient attacked the woman at the next table for saying that her soup, which she’d gotten at the same time, was just fine. Instead of the young woman riding in the ambulance, she was transported in a police car with cuffs.

  Jack pulled up on his bike just as my co-worker, Sandy, walked out with her bag slung over her shoulder. Jack shut off the bike and slid off to give me a hug and chaste kiss.

  “See you later, pumper.” Sandy called as she swung into her jeep and started it.

  “Pumper?” Jack asked with eyebrows raised.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I replied stiffly.

  I didn’t either. It was thoroughly embarrassing.

  The trip to Free took over thirty minutes, and I thought again to myself that I should really find a place that was closer to Longview. This driving thirty minutes thing after a shitty shift really blew.

  Well, it would’ve been if I hadn’t been plastered to Jack’s back like lycra. My arms were around his waist and my head was resting on his hard back. My head was cushioned by the padded helmet and I was watching the trees pass in a blur. We were on a back road and there were no other cars to obstruct the view around me.

  Yes, I did have to say that a thirty minute ride did indeed surpass the shorter trip if I were to move to Longview. What really blew the latter out of the water was the awesomeness of staying with your husband and sleeping like a dream, curled up to his hard
body.

  The sight of ten foot chain link fences clue me in that we were approaching Free and I reluctantly picked my head up from Jack’s back and peered around. Cars were everywhere when we pulled in and I looked at Jack questioningly.

  He sighed as he weaved his bike through the multiple cars and parked in the first parking space.

  “It happens when everybody leaves their fucking car in the middle of the driveway instead of parking in a goddamn parking spot.” He grumbled as we walked inside the office.

  “It was only supposed to be a quick kiss!” Cheyenne bellowed from Sam’s lap.

  “Sure it was. That’s why you’re still here thirty minutes later.” James said, rolling his eyes.

  I looked at him and he winked.

  James was my favorite. He was so happy go lucky all the time. He was always nice to me and was never in a bad mood. His daughter was a freaking hoot, too.

  Jack sat down at the only empty spot in the room and pulled me down onto his lap. I leaned my head back against his chest and sighed. Damn, but I was exhausted. Working twenty-four hours in a busy city was going to take some getting used to.

  “So….we heard something really funny on shift today.” Cheyenne said.

  Payton started snickering from the corner of the room where she was playing what sounded like Angry Birds on her phone. I looked back and forth between the two wearily. Both started to smile so wide that they looked positively evil. It was then I knew that they knew what happened.

  Closing my eyes, I waited for the show to start.

  It didn’t take long.

  “So, from what we understand, you’re a pretty good pumper.” Cheyenne snickered.

  I refused to acknowledge them.

  “Did he really have dementia?” Payton asked seriously.

  I opened my eyes, and sighed long and exaggerated. “Fuck yeah.”

  “Come on; just tell us the juicy details.” Cheyenne practically bounced in her seat.

  I kicked my top lip up at them in a silent snarl, but told the story anyway seeing as I knew I wouldn’t get out of it.

  “We responded to a call for a sick case unknown. When we got there, the man was complaining about a lump in his scrotum. Of course, the male EMT that was with me made the snide comment, but we looked anyway. Sure enough, there was an enlargement there. I took lead since I was the paramedic and palpitated the mass.”

  Snickering from James and Elliott broke through my story, but I ignored them.

  “It was actually really weird. It felt squishy, and I’d never felt anything like it before. I pressed on it a few more times before my partner started laughing. Sure enough, the man had an erection. At first, I just thought he couldn’t help it since I was touching his scrotum and all. However, his wife came in a few minutes later and told me I was pumping up his penile implant.”

  Silence bracketed the room, and a raucous burst of laughter. Even Jack was laughing so hard that it vibrated my body.

  I covered my eyes with my arm, and ignored everyone. Damn, but I was never going to hear the end of this.

  Jack kissed the top of my head, but didn’t stop laughing.

  “Fuckers. Every last one of you.” I grumbled.

  Jack’s phone started vibrating under my ass, I stood so he could reach his phone. I watched as his laughter died. The joy on his face was replaced by utter desolation. The laughter around us died as Jack’s expression started to register to everyone else in the room. His eyes slowly closed, and I saw a lone tear slide down the length of his cheek before he angrily dashed it away.

  “I understand. Can,” He croaked and then cleared his throat when his voice started to break. “Can I see him before he’s cremated?”

  My stomach dropped so low that I could swear it was somewhere near my toes. Dropping to my knees, I placed my hands on his thighs as he finished his phone call with whomever he was speaking with, offering my silent support. His hand clutched at mine, and he said a few more “Yes, sir’s” before hanging up and clutching my body to his in a brutal hug.

  I let him hug me, and stayed there waiting for him to explain.

  “Adam’s dead. Tai’s hurt.” He rasped, while rubbing his face with his hands.

  “I’ll go pack. Do you want anything specific?” I asked, hoping he would meet my eyes.

  “The blue dress bag in the closet. I need my uniform for the funeral.” He murmured, still avoiding my eyes.

  I gave him a soft kiss on the forehead and exited the room. I met Sam and Jack’s eyes as they watched me leave. Each gave me a nod of approval before I broke eye contact.

  Once I was outside, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and tried not to cry.

  In the past twenty days, I have remembered quite a few bits and pieces of my time with Jack. Yes, it was only a summer, but it was definitely significant. His brother and best friend were regulars in many of the memories as well.

  As soon as I got in Jack’s bedroom, I got to work gathering Jack’s clothes and stuffing them into the large duffel bag at the bottom of Jack’s closet. My hand hit a box as I reached for my duffel. I wondered what was in it and why it was buried in the bottom of the closet; but right now, I didn’t have any time to think about it.

  I called into work for the next week, and, needless to say, they were not in the least bit happy. I’d be lucky to have a job when I got back.

  Once I was packed, I grabbed both bags and hauled them out to Jack’s truck since it was blatantly obvious this wasn’t going to fit in his bikes saddlebags.

  I went back for pillows, blankets, and his dress uniform. I grabbed a few bottles of water, made a quick restroom stop, and was in the truck driving it to the front of the garage within thirty minutes of Jack’s call.

  He was outside sitting against the outside wall, butt to the concrete. He heard me pull up, and hopped into the passenger seat without a word. I didn’t say anything. My heart broke a little when I saw the sadness in his eyes.

  About halfway there, I had to stop for gas.

  Jack handed his wallet over without a word and I used his debit card. I was typing in the pin number when I realized that I’d remembered it. Then I decided that he probably needed to change it. You should do that more than every ten years, right?

  Once the gas was finished pumping, I took another bathroom break and grabbed a large coffee for both of us from the Starbucks attached to the gas station. Lucky, too. There is no way in hell that I’d drink gas station coffee. That stuff will put hair on your chest and I was fairly sure that’s grounds for divorce in some cultures.

  Jack was in the driver’s seat when I got back to the truck.

  I was extremely grateful; my eyes were bleary and I could really use a few hours of sleep before we arrived in San Antonio. Once I was safely inside and buckled in, Jack pulled back onto the interstate and continued his non-speaking routine he’d established the first few hours.

  I tossed and turned for twenty minutes, trying to find a comfortable position when Jack pulled one of the pillows from the backseat and laid it across the console. I smiled at him gratefully and laid my head down, finding sleep instantly.

  I woke a few hours later to Jack sifting his fingers through my tangled curls. My hair band was conspicuously missing, just as it always seemed to do when Jack had anything to say about it.

  I stayed like that for another twenty minutes, watching the exit signs for Kyle, Texas appear before us. We passed them by and slowly came up to the San Antonio exits. We took the one with the blue hospital sign below it and weaved our way through traffic to the busy hospital.

  Finding a spot proved difficult. Jack ended up parking nearly a mile away in the parking garage. A shuttle was provided but we skipped it. Walking hand in hand, I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

  It wasn’t until we were on the elevator that he spoke. “Please stay with me.”

  My heart broke for him and what he was about to see, but I held his hand strong. I wouldn’t make him go through this w
ithout me. For once, it was him needing me and not the other way around.

  The elevator dinged as it opened leading into an open area of the ICU. Exiting the elevator, I jumped when I saw the vast amount of people there. Some wore plain clothes, while others wore the blue on blue fire fighter uniforms. A few cops were scattered here and there also.

  They all stood when they saw Jack. They eyed me with curiosity, but I ignored them and led Jack to the nurse’s station. He wasn’t ready to talk yet and I knew he wouldn’t be a very friendly if they bombarded him before he saw his brother.

  The older woman wearing bright green scrubs looked up at us as she heard our approach. “Can I help you?”

  “Tai. Taima Stoker.” Jack said.

  She smiled, and then got up from her chair, rounded the station, and then called over her shoulder at us “Taima is in room 1642. I don’t want you to get alarmed at all the bandages and machines. He’s doing remarkably well. The burns on his ankles and wrists are third degree, but the others are all first and second degree. He’s going to be under sedation for another twelve hours until we can be sure he’s able to breathe on his own. The smoke inhalation was not as extensive as we first thought, but we’re trying to be on the safe side before we take him off the vent.”

  She led us down the hallway to the very last room. The entire front wall was glass, so we could see Tai lying in bed easily. The blanket was pulled up to just below his chest. His arms were down by his sides; each hand had bandages wrapped around his wrists. His neck and chin were burned as well, but those only resembled sunburns.

  His black hair was in disarray all over his pillow. It was definitely much longer than Jack’s was but it still had the silky fine texture. My heart froze in my chest as I made note of his features. He looked so much like Jack that it restricted my heart for an instant before it started pounding double time.

  Pushing back the disturbing thoughts of Jack lying helpless and burned in the bed, I made my way to the chair at Tai’s bedside and sat. Jack went to the other side and stared down at his brother for a very long time.

  “Goddamn you both. I left you here so you could look out for each other,” He said gruffly. “If you die, I’m gonna take that precious car of yours and rip it to fucking pieces with a fire ax. There’ll be nothing you can do about it.”