It’s Monday, and I’m in the copy room at GrindHouse. I ended up not having enough time to read anything over the weekend. I had planned to do it yesterday, but I hadn’t planned for all the drama with Stephen and the talk with the boys taking up most of the day.
I’m making copies of today’s meeting agenda when Brice walks in the room. He’s a short man, only about two or three inches taller than me. He has a beer gut and an untamed beard.
“I’m almost finished in here,” I say as the last of my copies spit out of the machine.
Brice looks my body up and down, licks his lips and smiles when he says, “I was going to say something, but I don’t want to get myself into trouble.” I’m almost positive he wears a wedding band. I look at his left ring finger; there is, in fact, a band wrapped tightly around it.
I don’t know if he’s trying to hit on me or not, but I feel uneasy, and the room seems to have shrunk. I freeze in place, unable to move. My body will not let me move. I want to leave this room. I begin to sweat as he takes a step closer to me. I need out of here. Why can’t I move?
He reaches his hand out in my direction, but I instantly move backwards. I can move. I bolt out of the room and back to my office. What am I going to do? He’s my boss, but I need a job.
I’ve made it to Thursday without any more advances from Brice. I told Malcom what had happened, and he said it sounded like Brice was testing the waters to see if I was into him. I am very much not into him. Not even a little bit.
I left work on time today at five to get back to town to meet the realtor at the house at six-thirty with the boys.
They’re in the back seat now. I told them they would both have their own bedroom in this house. They seem excited.
I check my phone as we exit the car.
Malcom: Take pictures for me, Sugar Tits.
Me: What?
Malcom: Of the house, get your mind out of the gutter.
Me: Okay.
It’s a two-story house. The owners redid the siding outside, and it’s a grayish blue color with dark gray shutters. There is no front porch, only steps. It makes me a little sad that there is no porch, but it’s not a deal breaker.
The realtor is standing on the other side of the screen door. We walk into the house, and she says, “You guys are going to love this house. It’s adorable.”
I tune her out as I walk around. The living room is a decent size. The ceilings are extremely high up. It might cost a fortune to heat this place. The kitchen is small and painted a peachy pink color. The appliances are as outdated as the original cabinetry.
“There’s only one bathroom. It’s on this main level. This floor includes the living room, kitchen, bathroom and one bedroom. There are two rooms upstairs and the laundry room is in the basement,” the realtor says.
Sawyer and Atticus race up the stairs that are connected to the kitchen. I follow behind them. I’ll live anywhere they want to, so my room doesn’t matter. Thankfully, the realtor stayed downstairs.
There are doors on both sides of the staircase at the top. The doors are directly across from each other. I find Atticus in the room to the left and Sawyer in the room to the right. The walls of both rooms meet in a peak at the top. They are identical. Which is great. I was scared one might be bigger than the other and I really didn’t want a fight.
I stand between the two rooms and say, “Do you guys like them? I know they’re smaller than your rooms at your dad’s.”
“Can we decorate them however we want?” Atticus asks.
“Sure.”
“I want some cool lights to go around in here,” Atticus states.
“You have any ideas for yours?” I ask Sawyer.
“Not yet, but I like it. I’m excited to have my own space for Amy and me to hang out in.”
“Sawyer, your door will be open at all times, and if I ever find you guys doing anything, you’ll only be able to hang out in the living room with her.” I turn and look at Atticus, “That goes for you too, if you decide to date.”
Atticus replies, “Girls are too needy, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m focusing on soccer, so I can get a scholarship to college like Coach did.”
We walk back down the stairs and do a quick tour of the rest of the house before heading out to the car.
The basement was a little creepy, and my room is bigger than I need, but I love the little house. It even had a two-car garage. I told the realtor to go ahead and give my offer to the owners. It needs a lot of work, so I offered a little less than they were asking.
I pick up fried chicken on our way back to my parents’ and ask the boys, “Do you guys really like Malcom?”
In unison they say, “Yeah, he’s okay.”
“Okay.”
They aren’t identical, but sometimes I wonder with as often as they say things the exact same way at the exact same time.
Me: I forgot to take pictures, but I put in an offer.
Malcom: That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get to look at it quite often.
Me: I’m sure you will.
Malcom: Roxanne said she was going to see Elsie this weekend. I messaged her to see what day she would be in, but she isn’t coming home now.
Me: I’m sorry.
Malcom: She’s always fucking it up. I’ve stopped even telling Elsie. It always breaks her heart when she doesn’t show up.
Me: Will she see Angie at least?
Malcom: Probably.
I hear Atticus scream, “Mom!” from the other room causing me to drop my phone and run to see what’s wrong.
When I get up the stairs to their room, I say, “What, what’s wrong?”
Both Sawyer and Atticus’s eyes are bulging, and they have a look of shock on their faces. Sawyer says, “Dad’s getting married.”
Atticus says, “He’s marrying Kitty this weekend.”
“Oh,” I say. I don’t think it’s a great idea, but it’s not like he’s been making great choices recently.
THIRTY-TWO
We’re halfway through March now. The construction crew that is going to work on Malcom’s new addition starts Tuesday. He’s adding on two bedrooms, an office, and another bathroom beside the kitchen. I felt horrible for even asking, but I wondered how on a teacher’s salary he could afford to pay for the addition. He told me when his grandparents passed, he bought the house outright with the money they had left him. He is taking out a loan for the addition. I told him not to do it just for me, but he says it’s what he wants.
The boys and I are moving into our new home this weekend. I am beyond excited for our new adventure. Mom and Pops are giving me all the furniture from my old room and the couch in the den. I have enough left over from the money from the divorce to buy all the rest of the furniture. I bought the boys twin-sized beds that are to be delivered to our new house on Friday. Everything is coming together.
I finally found a book that seemed promising and handed it in to Brice to give to the editor. Of course he took all the credit, but I honestly don’t mind as long as I get to keep my job. I try to stay away from him as best I can at work, but he still seems to find reasons to come to my office and talk to me. He hasn’t said anything else out of the way to me, and I hope he never does.
Stephen and Kitty eloped. From what the boys told me, it was a small ceremony. Stephen seems to regret marrying her. Last week he messaged me that she had a miscarriage. I would never wish that on anyone, but he never should have married her if he didn’t love her. We didn’t have a pre-nup, but he said he got one with her, and he is going to try to file for a dissolution. He can’t seem to get anything right in his love life.
The boys are staying with me this weekend. They were as excited as I was to be moving into the new place. I took them right after school to buy a few things for their rooms. They are up there now.
Malcom and Diego helped us get everything moved. I told them I’d pay them in pizza and beer. Malcom and Diego are carrying in the last thing now – the couch bed.
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br /> “Where do you want this?” Malcom asks.
“Over by that wall,” I say, as I point to the wall facing the street in the living room. I want it in the middle of the big window for now.
“This couch is heavy as hell,” Diego grunts as he drops the half of the couch he’s holding down on the old hardwood floor. They both take a seat on the couch when Diego says, “Are you going to be at our first game? It’s next weekend.”
“Did you guys choose a name?” I ask. Diego laughs so I look at Malcom. “What?”
“Diego named the team Dropping Balls.”
“And that’s funny because…?” I’m confused.
“Don’t you think the word balls is funny?” Diego asks, still laughing.
“Not particularly,” I say.
“She doesn’t find Sugar Tits hilarious, either,” Malcom chimes in.
I roll my eyes and head into the kitchen to grab the beer and pizza. I set the pizza box between the two of them and the six pack of beer on the floor. Then I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the pizza box. I grab a slice and a beer.
“What positions do you two play?” I ask.
Malcom grabs a slice of pizza from the box and says, “We are co-captains. I’m the goalie, and Diego is the forward. He usually makes all of our goals.”
“Are you guys any good?”
Diego takes a swig of his beer and proudly replies, “We’ve never lost.”
“How long have you guys been playing in a competitive league together?”
Malcom, “Since we finished college.”
“Will you guys ever quit?”
Diego’s accent is strong tonight. “When our bodies quit and not a day before.”
“You guys love the sport that much?”
They nod in unison like the boys do sometimes.
Sawyer and Atticus are at their dad’s this weekend. Inez and Juliet are meeting me at the sports complex to watch Diego and Malcom’s first soccer game of the season. They were the last game on the roster tonight, and it doesn’t start until eight.
I find Inez and Juliet seated in the middle of the stands. I take a seat beside Inez. “How have you two been?” I ask.
“Good,” Inez answers.
I lean forward so I can see Juliet. “Did Inez tell you about the time Malcom and I tried to hook her up with Diego?”
“No, she didn’t.”
After ninety very long minutes of one person kicking the ball to another person, the game ended in a 0-0 tie. Well I thought the game ended, but Malcom just came over all giddy and said they were going into Sudden Death and kissed me on the cheek. He was sweaty. Sudden Death sounds horrible. It also sounds like a good name for a team and a good title for a book. They should have named their team Sudden Death.
The referee does some kind of coin toss thing and says Dropping Balls is up first. Diego is the first player on their team to attempt a shot. Of course he makes it in. Now it’s the other team’s chance to try and score on Malcom.
Malcom is at his post; the player from the other team runs up and spikes the ball toward the right crossbar, but Malcom must have seen it coming because he blocks it. What little crowd there is here erupts in hoots and hollers.
A couple of guys from the other team run up and are chatting up Malcom. I walk over to him and whisper in his ear, “Way to go, stud.”
He encircles me in a sweaty hug and whispers in my ear, “I did it for you, Sugar Tits. I was hoping when we got home, you’d give me a lap dance if I won.”
I giggle and move out of his arms. “If you’re lucky, I just might. I’m going to go ahead and leave. Take as long as you need.”
“The spare key is under the doormat.” He winks as I walk away from him and the other guys go back to talking to him.
I say my goodbyes to Inez and Juliet and get in my car. It’s a forty-five-minute ride to Malcom’s from here. I hate driving in the dark. I don’t wear corrective lenses or anything, but it’s like I can’t see anything tonight due to the fog. I turn on an audiobook and make my way back to the country.
I’m about a mile from Diego’s when a deer jumps out in front of me. It stops in the middle of the road in my headlights. I swerve to miss it. But, unfortunately, a second deer jumps out and I hit that one going sixty miles an hour. The nose of my car bounces off the deer, and my car begins to flip. It rolls three times before stopping leaving me hanging upside-down. I’m strapped to the seat by my seatbelt, but it’s so snug to my neck it’s cutting off my air supply. I go to move my arms, but my left arm won’t move at all, and I can’t seem to get the buckle unlocked.
I can’t breathe.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
My lungs hurt.
My arms and legs hurt.
I try the buckle again, but it won’t budge.
I try to scream again.
It’s so dark.
One of the headlights busted and the other is extremely dim, so I don’t think anyone will find me. I’m going to die.
I try the buckle one more time, it releases me, and I crash into the steering wheel.
I close my eyes and think of my boys.
THIRTY-THREE
I can hear people talking, but I can’t get my eyes open. I hear sirens and dogs barking. It’s so cold. I move my right hand to touch my left arm and it feels like my hand is touching a foreign body. I move my fingertips up and down my arm, but it’s numb or something. It doesn’t feel right.
My eyes open in tiny slits. I see red. Lots of red. I thought when you died you saw a white light. That’s what people say, a white light, so why am I seeing red? Flashing red. On and off. On and off. My slits shut, and it’s dark again.
It smells like bleach and there is a lot of talking going on around me. My head feels groggy. The beeping is making my head feel like it’s about to explode. I feel a tug at my chest. I scream and open my eyes. There’s a bright white light above me. It’s brighter than the sun. There’s my light, this is it. I faintly hear someone say, “This will make you comfortable and help you sleep.”
I thought I’d be dead by now, but I can still think even if my eyes won’t open. Well, I guess I’m alive. Maybe when we die we’re stuck in our bodies. I can feel my body again, even my left arm. It’s in a lot of pain. More pain than I’ve ever felt, and I was in a lot of pain after my c-section. My chest feels like a building fell on it and no one has removed the debris.
I grunt and try to move. The pain is horrible. I can feel liquid leak from my eyes. I scream from the pain. When I open my eyes, the first person I see is Stephen. He has a beard, which is very unlike him, and he’s pacing the room.
Watching him is making me dizzy and nauseous.
I clear my throat, and he stops pacing. He looks at me. “Are you awake, Addy Bear?”
I cringe. “Please quit calling me that.” My voice sounds shallow.
Stephen rushes to the door and hollers, “Nurse, nurse she’s awake.”
“Where are the boys?” I ask.
He frowns. “At school.”
Why is he lying about where they are? “They don’t have school on Sundays, Stephen.”
“It’s not Sunday. It’s Wednesday.”
I count in my head. The wreck was on a Saturday. “I’ve been here four days?”
He walks over to my bed and whispers softly, “You’ve been in here for going on four weeks now.”
“Four weeks!” I shout.
A short lady wearing blue scrubs walks into the room and shoves Stephen out of the way. I like her. She has long red hair and a pretty smile. She looks like the singer from Open Mic Night. “Are you having any pain?” she asks.
I go to shift in the bed and wince from the sharp pain that shoots from my chest down my left arm. “So much pain,” I say and look down. My left arm is in a sling and I can barely move it.
“Here this will help,” the nurse says as she tugs on the plastic tubing that is inserted in my right forearm. She hooks a small syringe to it
and pushes the medicine in. “You’ll probably fall back to sleep soon. Do you want me to kick him out?”
I laugh and stop as the muscles in my body clench. “No, he can stay.” I need him to tell me why I’ve been in here for four weeks. After she leaves, I look at Stephen. “Why have I been in here for so long?”
He takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. He pulls on the cuffs of his button-down shirt. “Do you remember being in a car wreck?”
“Yes.” Did I have a head injury too?
“After they found you and transported you here, you were unconscious. They used your wallet to get your name, and I am still your next of kin. They called and told me you were in a wreck. I called your mom to meet you here and then headed this way.”
“But that was four weeks ago. Why are you still here?”
He uses his hand to wipe down the front of his face. His eyes look as if he hasn’t slept in a while and his crow’s feet are more pronounced than they used to be. “I left for a little bit and worked the first week.”
“I don’t understand, why am I still here?” I say as the medicine takes effect and everything becomes blurry.
When I wake up again, my Pops is sitting next to my bed. My voice is shallow and shaky when I say, “Hey, Daddy.” I reach my right arm out to hold his hand that is laying on the bed.
“Hey, Addy,” he says as I squeeze his hand. “Are you up for company?” he asks.
“Who all is here?” I reposition myself in the bed and the pain isn’t as bad as it was before.
“Your mom and the boys. They’re out in the hall. We’ve been taking turns. The nurse says she didn’t want to overstimulate you. Whatever that means.”
I have so many unanswered questions, but I’m dying to see my boys. “You can go get them.”
The door opens before he even has a chance to leave. The same nurse as before comes in. “You feelin’ okay?”
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