Unbroken Connection

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Unbroken Connection Page 19

by Angela Morrison


  Could I have been totally, brutally,

  hypocritically

  wrong?

  The crisp air wakes Phil.

  “Shut the flipping window!”

  He’s hungry and cramped.

  I find an encouraging smile.

  “We’re almost home. Just coming

  up on Lookout Pass. Couple hours.”

  He burps. “Drop me in Coeur d’Alene, okay?

  I’ve got a date with Krystal.”

  I roll up the window and my eyes

  at lover boy.

  He unlocks his seatbelt, stretches,

  bends forward and tunes in a country

  western station, cranks it.

  I turn it down.

  He shakes his head, “That’s the grumpy

  big sister I love. I wondered

  where she went.”

  I squeal around a corner. He hangs

  on, mock terror. We both

  laugh.

  He slumps back, hands behind

  his head, feet up on the dashboard,

  grins massive enjoyment.

  “So.” Phil bites his lower lip,

  makes a loud sucking sound with his spit.

  “You and Jaron? I told you so.”

  I can’t keep this unrelenting hope

  to myself. “I don’t know, Phil.”

  He beats the rhythm on his knees.

  “What’s not to know?”

  I hunt through my heart, mind

  and soul—but Jaron isn’t there.

  “I don’t think I love him.”

  It feels so good to say it—

  let these whirling feelings

  solidify in the clean mountain air.

  Phil shakes his head. “You were just

  playacting back there?”

  I brake for another twisty corner.

  “I was trying to convince him and myself

  that I do, but there’s something in the way.”

  Phil sits up, stomps his feet on the floor,

  and slams his hands flat on the dash—

  making me quiver, but I hang on to my wispy dream.

  “I can’t believe this.” He glares at me.

  “You’re going to mess up things with Jaron—

  this is Jaron, Leesie—because of stupid jerk butt Michael? Flip, Leese.

  The guy has screwed half of Asia by now,

  and you want him back?”

  “Don’t—” My hope wobbles under

  his full frontal onslaught.

  “That girl was a prostitute, Leese—”

  “Shut up.” I fight to keep pictures of Michael’s

  arms around that girl, her lips enmeshed with his,

  her perfect body melding with his

  from swamping me again. “Just, shut up!”

  I grip the steering wheel, stare straight

  ahead, clench my teeth. My foot gets

  heavier and the pickup roars up over Lookout.

  We’re heading downhill now—

  picking up speed as gravity urges us forward.

  The tires jitter over thousands of cracks

  in the black asphalt.

  Phil grabs my arm. “You want a husband

  who does hookers?” The pickup swerves.

  I jerk loose. “Stop it!” I scream.

  “He had his chance. He’s a slime ball

  who can’t keep it in his pants. It’s over.”

  Phil’s locker room harshness shatters

  the delicate castle I built in these clouds.

  “You sniveling little brat, shut up!!”

  I glare at him with venom—anger—loathing:

  all our old acrimony reborn, redoubled.

  “How dare you talk like that to me.”

  Phil’s face twists in disgust.

  “Open your flipping eyes!”

  The pickup bumps and shudders.

  Crap. I’m on the shoulder.

  My right front wheel slips

  off the pavement into soft gravel.

  I jerk the wheel back the other way.

  Too far, too fast at this speed. We

  zig, screaming at each other,

  back and forth across

  two empty lanes that aren’t big enough.

  I hit the brakes too late.

  We smash into a cement barrier

  with a jolt that launches Phil

  through the front window,

  explodes my airbag,

  flinging my left hand into my face,

  but doesn’t stop

  the pickup from tipping off the side of the mountain

  and smashing a path through a swath of young

  pine trees.

  I scream.

  And scream.

  Seconds become forever.

  My body is flung against the seatbelt

  over and over

  as the truck rolls

  out of control,

  bam, my head bangs,

  bam,

  bam,

  bam.

  Silence.

  Tinkling glass.

  Hissing fluid.

  Settling carnage.

  I hang upside down,

  covered in beads of windshield

  and decimated baby pine trees,

  held up by my seatbelt.

  “Phil?” I reach over

  to his empty seat. “Phil!”

  My head explodes when I scream.

  Sticky wet flows in my hair

  and down my face. My left

  hand throbs and my right arm won’t move.

  My right fingers seem to work,

  they pull themselves

  to my seatbelt latch,

  can’t punch the button.

  There. Yes.

  I crash to the ceiling.

  Pain seers my right shoulder,

  makes me puke, knifing agony

  through my ribcage.

  Why don’t I pass out?

  The pickup shifts—

  slides a few more feet.

  When it stops, I gather my broken body,

  push it through the windshield

  that became thousands of tiny pellets

  when Phil hit it.

  Phil? Oh, dear, dear God.

  “Phil! Where are you?”

  He doesn’t answer, the brat.

  “Help me! Phil! Phil?”

  There’s blood in my eyes.

  My ankles crumple under my weight.

  I sit alone on that mountain

  in a violated grove

  and pray,

  Phil,

  Phil,

  Phil.

  Chapter 32

  AWAKENING

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

  DIVE BUDDY: solo

  DATE: 04/24

  DIVE #:—

  LOCATION: Los Angeles

  DIVE SITE: LAX

  WEATHER CONDITION: don’t know

  WATER CONDITION: don’t know

  DEPTH: don’t know

  VISIBILITY: don’t know

  WATER TEMP.: don’t know

  BOTTOM TIME: don’t know

  COMMENTS:

  I stumble off the plane at LAX and try to call Leesie. I’ve got my phone, and my wallet and the clothes on my back. My scuba gear, my computer, and all that crap is back in my cabin on the Queen Nautica. Again.

  No answer.

  Nothing new there.

  I don’t remember Leesie’s home phone number, so I call Gram.

  “Hey, Gram. It’s me.”

  “Michael?” She sounds horrible. “I’m so glad”—her voice breaks—“you called.” Sounds like she’s crying.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, But—”

  “Freak. You scared me. I’m trying to find Leesie. Is she home? Have you seen her?”

  “No. She isn’t home yet. There’s—” Gram breaks down and can’t continue.

  “What is it?” I’m
filled up with real dread now, not just that uneasy haunting. “Listen, I’m in LA. I can be home in a few hours. I’m checking the flights now.”

  Gram coughs and sniffs. “No. Don’t come down here. You better go to the hospital. She’ll need you.”

  I stop walking down the airport hall. “Hospital?” Fear twists in my guts. “What’s happened?”

  “Leesie drove that pickup off the side of Lookout Pass.”

  I close my eyes, huddle over the phone. “No. She’s the best driver I know.”

  “The Hunts left this morning for Kellogg. She’s in the hospital there. I have Stephie.”

  “Is Leesie—” I can’t say it. “How bad, Gram?”

  “She’s banged up—but she’s not critical.”

  I crumple to my knees. The tears run down my face. People shove past me.

  “There’s more.” She’s okay, what else matters? “It’s not good. Phil was with her. He didn’t make it.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Poor, Leesie.” I’m on my feet, moving again, thinking like a robot. “How’s Stephie?”

  “She doesn’t know yet.”

  “What about Leesie’s mom?”

  “She didn’t get out of the car. She was distraught.”

  “And her dad?”

  “Calm—in shock I guess. Red-rims around his eyes.”

  “Phil’s dead?” I remember him planning eighty years with Krystal back in that wild graveyard on their farm. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I’m praying for them.”

  “Thanks, Gram. You do that. Where did you say they took her?”

  “Kellogg—head east on I-90. You can’t miss it.”

  “From Spokane? Head east?”

  “Yeah.” Gram sniffs and manages to croak. “They were almost home.”

  LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

  POEM # 67, BROKEN

  Light.

  Colors moving.

  Voices.

  Pain blurring everything.

  Nothing focuses.

  Someone’s moaning.

  Me? Maybe.

  “Here, honey.”

  A strange face.

  A needle in my hand.

  Then a voice I know.

  Hands warm on my head.

  Dad?

  He strokes my cheek.

  “Sleep, Leesie-girl. Sleep.”

  “We love you, Leesie.

  We love you.”

  I struggle to speak.

  Phil?

  The sound doesn’t escape.

  I’m drifting, drifting.

  Pain recedes with the voices.

  No faces return.

  I move my head.

  The moan gets louder.

  “Lie still. Rest.”

  Phil?

  “Everything’s all right, now.”

  Even Phil?

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

  DIVE BUDDY: Leesie

  DATE: 4/25

  DIVE #:—

  LOCATION: Kellogg, ID

  DIVE SITE: Shoshone Medical Center

  WEATHER CONDITION: misty

  WATER CONDITION: none

  DEPTH: overboard

  VISIBILITY: clearer than I thought

  WATER TEMP.: okay

  BOTTOM TIME: all night

  COMMENTS:

  It’s midnight when I deplane in Spokane. The only way I could get here was through Seattle. Better than going through SLC or Vegas, but it took close to six hours. I could be halfway back to Hong Kong. I’m dead on my feet, haven’t seen a bed for two days. Maybe longer. I lost track. I’m too tired to rent a car and drive to Kellogg, but I’m standing in line at Avis anyway. I don’t even know the name of the hospital. But the place is almost Tekoa small.

  “Kellogg?” The dude at the counter hands me keys and a bad map. “I-90 east. Probably take you an hour and a half.” He stares at my red eyes and haggard face. I wouldn’t blame him if he took the keys back.

  I drive through Spokane, Coeur d’Alene, get lost in the inky night and effusion of stars overhead, pull into Kellogg around 2 AM. The only place open is a bar. I go in, ask a skinny waitress for directions to a hospital.

  “You’ll be wanting Shoshone Medical Center.” She assesses me. “I heard there was a bad crash up on the pass. You know them?”

  I don’t answer.

  “It’s just up the road. Didn’t you see it when you came off the highway?”

  I backtrack, find the place, park, tip back my head and close my eyes to gather myself for what waits for me inside this small, one story building with a heart-shaped stone fountain out front.

  I must look pretty rough. They’ll take me for a patient. I get out and go in the front door. A girl in pale yellow scrubs sits at a desk in the lobby. “Can I help you?”

  I’m still in shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. It’s below freezing out there. She’ll admit me as a nutcase.

  “Leesie Hunt. They brought her in yesterday.”

  She types keys. “Family only.”

  “I’m her fiancé.” The lie sounds more true than anything I know. “I was bringing her this.” I pull the ring out and flash it for the girl. My voice gets tight. “I’ve been flying for like two days. I got to see her now.”

  The girl gets dewy eyed. “Go on down.” She motions with her head toward a hallway and writes Leesie’s room number on a scrap of paper for me. “I’ll call the night nurse.”

  I wander down the hall to a nurses’ station. I’ve never been in a hospital this tiny. Another nurse waits for me, sizes me up. “We didn’t expect you until the morning.”

  Expect me? Maybe Gram called.

  “Don’t make me wait.”

  “No, of course not.” She guides me down the hall. “Her parents left a few hours ago, but she’s stirring a little bit. The brain swelling’s gone down faster than we expected. We’ve eased off her meds. She might come around.” She looks sideways at me. “I’d want you there when I woke up.”

  Yeah, but will Leesie? “Does she know anything?”

  The nurse shakes her head. “She’s been unconscious since they brought her in.”

  “Should I tell her about her brother?”

  “If she asks. Can you handle that?”

  I nod.

  The woman gets professional. “She’s got a fractured collar bone on the right side and three cracked ribs. They got her into surgery for her hand and nose right away. Her ankles were just sprained. The wound on her head came together nicely. The rest of the cuts were small. She was badly concussed, but she’s turned a corner there.”

  “Did they tell you anything about Phil?”

  “Dead on the scene. Ejected from the vehicle. No seatbelt.”

  And I have to tell her that?

  The nurse escorts me to a private room filled with flashing machines and a hospital bed. The thin, pale girl lying in the bed doesn’t look much like my beautiful Leesie. There’s plaster and gauze across her nose—but it doesn’t cover the angry bruising around her eyes. Her hair is shaved away from the gash that creeps down her forehead. Freak, she’ll hate that.

  “Forty-two stitches,” the nurse whispers.

  I search for something familiar. My eyes go to her left hand. It’s in a cast. No fingernail prints branding her mine.

  “She’s got to lie still.” The nurse goes to a closet and takes down a pillow and blanket. “You understand me? No movement. We wrapped up her ribs and she’s got that brace on for her collar bone, but every movement will be painful for the next several days.” She hands me the bedding. “Try to get some rest. Call me if things start beeping.”

  “And if she wakes up?”

 

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