We find a secluded table in the corner and sit down. I glance over to where his friends are still enjoying their beers, “I hope I’m not keeping you from your friends. I don’t want to monopolize your evening.”
He chuckles and takes a sip of his beer, “Beth—can I call you Beth?” I nod, honestly he can call me anything he wants and he continues, “Beth, I see these guys several times a week. I was beginning to think that my evening was going to end up like it usually does; and then you literally fall into my lap, dumping your drink all over me in the process. Now I’m sitting here wanting to know where you’ve been hiding all my life—Sorry,” At this he stands up and unbuttons his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and laying it on the chair next to him before sitting back down in a white sleeveless under-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. Fuck me, the man is made of rock-solid muscle.
“I’ll let that dry out a bit.” It’s like there’s some magnetic pull between us and I can’t look away. His body says that he is no stranger to hard labor and he has several tattoos down his arms and across his chest. Unlike tattoo boy, it only enhances his good looks.
I wonder if people often mistake him for looking like Daryl Dixon, not that I would ask him that. That would be weir—“So, do you ever get told that you look like Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead”? I clap my hand over my mouth, horrified. Why did I just say that? I’m blaming the rum for this one.
He laughs and I swear I could listen to that all day— such a rich, guttural sound. “I love that show. You mean Norman Reedus though, I’m assuming—Yeah, every once in a while someone mentions the resemblance. I don’t see it though.” I nod while taking a long drink to keep my mouth quiet—just keep sucking on the straw.
It’s no use. “No, I meant Daryl Dixon. Norman Reedus looks pretty clean-shaven compared to you. It’s like maybe you’ve spent the day hunting zombies before coming in to have a beer and rest,” His face falls at this and I realize what I’ve just said. “N-n-no, I don’t mean that you’re not absolutely stunning” —Oh my God! Why? Why am I still talking? “You are incredibly hot. Look at Daryl, he looks pretty worn down most of the time, but women everywhere would drop their panties in a heartbeat.” I put my head down. Yeah, this is why I’ve been with one man my entire life. I’m thirty years old and I cannot have a normal conversation with a man without insulting him or telling him I want to drop my panties in the process. I cringe and glance over, expecting him to get up and run from me. Instead, he looks bemused. He takes another long swig of beer, “So, I make you want to drop your panties? That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He winks at me and it’s like white hot heat quickly making its way south. I am extremely turned on right now.
I protest, “This stuff is like truth serum!” This elicits another hold nothing back kind of laugh from him, “In that case, I’d better get you another one.”
We continue with the playful back and forth banter as we play twenty questions with each other. David is thirty eight and grew up in south Texas. He does construction for a living—that explains the tan, has never been married, and has no kids.
As he begins to ask me questions, I decide that I will play it cool. Yeah, not too many details—that scares men off,
“I’m thirty, mainly grew up here, and up until a month ago was happily married for four years. Turns out, my husband was having an affair with his best friend’s wife for literally the entire time I’ve known him. We don’t have any kids because he was never ready; which is ironic, because the home-wrecker is now pregnant,”
I down the rest of my drink in shame, “—this is why I don’t drink. It’s like every thought in my head is now making its way out of my mouth. I’m sorry.” David looks a little taken aback and really who wouldn’t be with that kind of introduction.
I’m waiting to hear the scrape of his chair legs against the deck as he tries to get as far away from me as possible. To my surprise, he leans over and places his hand over mine, “You’re beautiful and downright funny even though it’s obvious you don’t mean to be. If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, well then fuck him…” I interrupt by leaning into him, placing my hands on either side of his face, and pressing my mouth to his.
Kissing him is electricity and fireworks and everything you see in movies. I didn’t expect that. I was just following my impulse. His hands come up and he’s running his fingers up and down my arm creating electric shocks that leave me wet and wanting him. This is chemistry, pure and simple.
We pull apart a few minutes (hours?) later to hear his buddies cheering him on. I blush and self-consciously tuck my hair behind my ears. His look mirrors my feelings. He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”
I feel him smile as I breathlessly answer, “Yes, let me just go tell my friend that I’m leaving.” He asked me—a man finally stopped to ask me if I want to do something instead of just assuming.
I shakily stand up and I’m not sure whether it’s him or the alcohol that’s got me so off balance. He stands up as well and pulls me in for another kiss, his hands holding tightly to my waist. “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
He sits back down and I give him a small wave as I turn to head back inside. This is so unlike me- I love it. I did something reckless and it’s paying off. I’m doing cartwheels inside and my inner romantic is lighting candles and chilling the champagne. If sex is anything like kissing him, I’m a goner.
I’m so caught up in this feeling that it takes me a second to realize that I’ve got tunnel vision. I am incredibly dizzy and as I turn to grab a chair my legs give out, my head making a terrible sound as it bounces off the wrought iron table.
I can feel warmth down the right side of my face, but I’m incapable of doing anything to stop it. I should’ve known better than to drink that much—looks like my rock star lifestyle has finally caught up with me. The last thing I see before blacking out entirely is David standing over me, shouting my name and calling for help.
PART TWO:
FALLING
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The bright sunlight pierces the back of my eyelids like daggers, trying to force them open. I struggle with consciousness; my head hurts so badly. I’m definitely hung over. It takes a minute for the blurred images to become my surroundings—where are my contacts? and I realize that I have no idea where I am. The room is all white—Am I dead? I can hear a hissing sound coming from my face and I tentatively reach my left hand up, touching a tube running under my nose. I’m on oxygen.
Oh my God, how much did I drink last night? I check my hand and find there’s an IV port. I’m in a hospital bed, but why? I remember drinking with Jess and meeting someone—David. And I was supposed to go home with him, but I fell. I was bleeding. I never told Jess where I was going. I stiffen as I feel movement beside me. Okay, don’t panic. Someone is lying next to you in this bed. I turn to the right and see David curled up on his side, his right arm draped across my abdomen. Well, he looks like hell. We definitely drank too much.
I gently nudge him, “David,” my voice sounds so raspy, “wake up.” He jerks awake so suddenly that he almost falls off the tiny bed. “Oh, thank God, you’re awake,” he rolls out of the bed and heads for the door. “Let me just grab a nurse.”
He rushes out of the room and comes back with a heavily pregnant blonde nurse. She starts to check my vitals. “Good morning, we’re so glad you’re awake. You gave us all quite a scare,” I nod slowly at her as she places the blood pressure cuff on my arm. “Do you remember anything about how you got here?”
I take a deep breath and sigh, “Yeah, I drank too much and fell, hitting my head.” I see looks of confusion on both of their faces.
“Okay, I’m going to grab your doctor. Just sit tight.” She leaves the room and returns a few moments later with an older man.
“Hello, Elizabeth, I’m Dr. Briggs and I’m going to ask you a few questions to evaluate your brain function,” He’s a very handsome ma
n with green eyes and salt & pepper hair. I’d guess him to be in his mid to late fifties. He consults a clipboard before beginning. “What is your full name?”
“Elizabeth Marie Scott.” I hear David make a sound of surprise beside me, but the doctor holds his finger up as if to silence him. He notes my response on his clipboard.
“When were you born?”
“December 5, 1983”
Where were you born?”
“Fort Worth, Texas”
“Do you know what city you are in now?”
“Lubbock.”
He jots this down before continuing, “What is the last event you can recall from before the accident?”
“Last night, I went out to a bar with my friend, Jess, and I met David,” I gesture towards him, “I was going to tell Jess that I was leaving and I felt dizzy. I reached out for something to steady myself, but I fell and hit my head on a table.” David stands up at this, seemingly upset.
Dr. Briggs turns to the nurse, “Kassie, why don’t you take David down to get some coffee while we finish up here,” She nods and leads him out of the room. “Okay, Elizabeth, let’s continue. Do you know what time it is now?”
I glance around the room for a clock and not finding one, answer as best I can, “Morning time?” He smiles at me as he records my answer.
“Do you know what day of the week it is?”
“Um, Sunday?”
“Do you know the month?”
“It’s June.”
“What year is it?”
“2014”
“Are you married?”
“Yes, to Landon Scott.”
“Do you have any children?”
“No.”
“Okay, we’re going to stop there for a bit and let you rest. I’m going to order some lab work and I’d like to do another MRI and CT scan as well.” He gets up to leave.
“Wait, Dr. Briggs—what happened to me?”
“Elizabeth, you and your husband were involved in a car accident and you were brought in with a head injury. You’ve been unconscious for three days. There were a few brief periods where you appeared to be on the verge of waking up, but this is the most conscious you’ve been.”
I start at this revelation, “My husband? Is he okay? What happened?”
He pats me gently on the arm. “Why don’t you just rest now and we’ll work some more later.”
Landon’s dead and they don’t know how to break it to me. Now my parents have yet another reason to hate me. I probably drove us into oncoming traffic. That bastard was probably telling me that he and Katie wanted to name their unborn child after me to show that there were no hard feelings.
Before he can leave, David and Kassie come back into the room. David’s holding a Styrofoam cup of black coffee and he opens his mouth as if to say something. Dr. Briggs stops him, “Okay, Elizabeth, I want you to get some rest and David; I’d like to speak to you out in the hallway.”
Before I can say anything else, they leave me alone with Kassie. I can hear them arguing outside the hospital room door, unfortunately they’re doing it a little too quietly for me to hear anything.
Maybe if I could just get up, I could get closer to the door and find out what they’re so tersely discussing. I press the up arrow on the bed panel and try to sit up, but the shooting pain in my head forces me back down. “Elizabeth, let’s take it easy. There’s no need to rush. I’ll incline your bed a little more and we’ll get you used to sitting up a step at a time.” I start picking at my fingernails—a nervous habit while studying the tubes coming out of my hand when I notice my hospital bracelet:
Greene, Elizabeth Marie
12/05/1983 30 F
That’s not my last name. There’s been a mix up and that’s why everyone is freaking out. It still doesn’t explain why David’s here though. It feels like my throat is closing and I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
“Nurse—Kassie, this isn’t the right last name. My last name is Scott.” She tries to calm me down and recline my bed back, but I’m having none of that.
“I have to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be here. Listen to me! There’s been a mistake because that’s not my name!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Elizabeth, just lie back and relax. You’ve gone through a lot and I don’t think you’re quite ready to be up and moving around just yet. Just breathe—in and out.”
Her attempts to comfort me are just irritating me further. I really have no idea what is happening and I just want to throw something. I grab the only thing I can find—the remote/call button device and fling it at Kassie’s head. Luckily, the cord is wrapped around the bed and it doesn’t even come close to hitting her.
Oh my God. I just tried to hit a pregnant woman! Who am I? I am never violent. “Kassie, I am so sorry! I don’t know what came over me. I swear I’m not like that!” Great, here come the waterworks. This is not going to help my headache at all. Surprisingly, she pats my hand calmly, and tells me she’ll be back soon. She’s probably about to phone the psych ward.
I hear the door open and then David is by my side, comforting me. The nurse walks over to the door to leave, “Mr. Greene, I’m going to visit with Dr. Briggs and see when he wants us to run those scans.” Did she just say Mr. Greene? “That nurse just called you Mr. Greene and that’s the name on my bracelet. Is this a joke?” I’m getting so frustrated by the lack of information being given here, “Please just tell me what the fuck is going on!” Wow, now I’m speaking like a sailor. Not only am I frightening nurses, but I’m scaring myself now too.
David gets up and starts pacing, “Beth, please relax,” he lowers his voice and points at the door. “Dr. Briggs doesn’t think it’s a good idea to overwhelm you with a lot of information right now, but I can’t take this! We have the same last name because,” he breaks down as he says this and sinks into a nearby chair, his hands on his head, “we’re married, okay?”
I swallow. I need to play this cool or I will certainly be in straight jacket before the day is over, “What—how long have we been together?”
“We’ve been together five years—married for three.”
“Do we have children?”
“No, we’ve been trying, but um,” he swallows, “it just hasn’t happened yet.”
“Was I married before?”
He shoots me a puzzled look, “Uh, no—it’s just been me.”
I have a million questions I need to ask him, but I just don’t know where to start. I want to know if we’re happy, how we met, and obviously I want to know if he’s ever cheated on me with someone named Katie. I mean, just to be on the safe side.
We sit in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I take some time to study him while he stares out of the window. Whereas he looked so confident and put-together last night— or whenever that was, he now looks haggard. His shaggy hair is in desperate need of a wash, he has dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, and what was a five o’clock shadow is now definitely moving into beard territory. I take him in and find him still incredibly sexy. He’s twisting a napkin in his hands—it looks like I’m not the only one with nervous habits, a simple gold band adorning his left ring finger. He’s got bruises and scratches down his right arm.
“What happened to your arm?”
He stops wringing the napkin and glances at his arm before looking at me, “I got a little banged up in the car wreck. Just a few bumps and bruises, it’s nothing to worry about. You’re the one I’m worried about.” He smiles as if to reassure me that all is fine with him.
“What happened to us? How did we get into an accident?”
“The people in this town drive like idiots. You do remember that, right?” I nod at him and we both smile because that is an entirely accurate assessment of ninety percent of the drivers here.
“Well, we were heading back home after dinner and we got to that intersection over by Slide Road and this teenager was texting while driving. He never
saw that the light was red and he ran it—t-boning us on the passenger side.
Here I was, trying to get you out of the car and he was just standing there mumbling over and over about how sorry he was and how he was just trying to text his girlfriend that he was almost to her house.” David slams his left fist down on the arm of the chair and stands up, pacing again.
“I thought he killed you,” he sobs. “You wouldn’t answer me and your eyes- they were just wide open- staring at nothing. There was so much blood and I thought I’d lost you. I was just filled with this rage. Had the emergency crews not shown up, I don’t want to think about what I would’ve done to that kid.”
His grief is overwhelming me and I just want to hold him until he calms down. I pat the bed in a gesture for him to sit down next to me. He sits down and I reach for his hand.
The air is suddenly popping with electricity, at least we still have that, and I find myself wanting to get to know him better. I’m completely in lust with him, but could I love him? As he brings my hand up to his mouth to kiss it —such a simple gesture; I think that maybe I could—that, and the realization that my other spouse appears to be imaginary.
I want to put a smile on his face so I use my free hand and beckon him closer. As he leans down over me I whisper in his ear, “David,” I can tell he’s smiling, “you really need to shower.” He laughs and kisses me on the nose before standing up again.
“Beth, it’s like you’re already on your way back.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kassie and a male nurse come in to take me for more testing. He introduces himself as Tony and they work on getting me out of bed and into a wheelchair. She takes me off of the oxygen, while he gathers my IV pole and catheter bag—I’m already thinking of ways to hide that from David, who’s on the other side of the bed.
From This Day Forward Page 5