by Cici Wickens
“Dad. It’s okay. I’m fine, I promise.” I try to nudge him back a little and recollect myself. “I just need some space. Where am I?” I chug the water down as I await his response. I almost moan in relief as the remaining aches in my body disappear.
My father groaned in concern. “She doesn’t even know where she is! We’re at home…in the front yard.” He spoke slowly, tentatively, as though I had lost all of my memories. “You’re sitting…in an ambulance right now.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, that was a dumb question on my part.” The ambulance smelled sterile and flat. Shelves filled with supplies and first-aid components lined the left and right walls of the vehicle. I am laying on a stretch with fresh, crisp sheets pulled tight across it.
I do a self-evaluation of myself. I wiggle my toes and fingers. Check. I turn my head from side to side. Check. I sit up on the stretch and then plunk back down. Check.
“So…what knocked me out?” I finally ask when I’m done.
My father leaned back against the ambulance and scrubbed his face with his hands. “A piece of ceiling gave away. I got here around the same time as Frank did. Mrs. Peeble called us both.”
“How long was I out?” I question, although I don’t really care for the answer. I was too busy making excuses for the dream I just had. Maybe the paramedics gave me some medicine that made me hallucinate.
“Around five minutes, so not too long.”
I scratch my temple. “Felt like longer.”
Silence followed. My dad was the one to break the ice, even though I would have been fine staying inside of it and freezing to death. “Iris, is this the first time this has happened?” His hazel-brown eyes were pleading with me to tell the truth. I absolutely hated that look.
I look down at my feet. My slippers were ruined, if you can even call them that anymore. They appeared more like burnt pieces of newspaper and fluff that had been stuck together by mice.
“Iris.” He repeated more sternly.
“This is not the first time, okay?” I am a tad bit agitated. I had nearly gotten roasted alive, and yet my dad had still found the time to question me?
“This is unbelievable! All this time, and you never told me! Why?”
“You’ve already been stressed out enough with work. I didn’t want to worry you.” I defend.
My father shook his head.
I fiddle with my fingers as I ask, “Is mom…”
“She’s perfectly fine. You’re the one who got injured!” My dad clenched his fists. “She’s the one who did wrong, and you got hurt because of it! What kind of mother—I can’t believe her! If you would’ve been taken away from us…”
“Dad! Don’t even think like that! I’m fine! We’re fine. We’ll get mom help.” I reason.
“No, we won’t. I can’t even begin to forgive what she’s done. I can’t be in the same house as her anymore. I refuse to be married to her!” He yelled. It was the maddest I had ever seen him. He never raised his voice.
“You don’t mean that! Everyone’s okay. It’s not like I was killed!” I cry. “It was just an accident. She won’t do it anymore!”
My father cupped my face in his hands and placed his forehead to mine. “When you get older and have a daughter as precious as you are to me…maybe you’ll understand better. I would be an irresponsible father if I didn’t do this. I’m not going to put you in danger anymore. Maybe she will get better like you say, but we’re not sticking around to find out.”
I feel a hot tear roll down my nose. “Please.” I whisper.
“I’m sorry—”
A short woman with a pudgy face cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. I wonder how long she had been there. My dad let go of me and gave me the chance to wipe my nose and cheeks. She pointed behind her, “I could come back in a few minutes?”
My dad rubbed his eyes. “No. That’s okay. Go ahead. We’re finished with our discussion.”
“No, we’re not!” I say.
He looked at me in distress. I take in the redness of his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders.
“Never mind.” I murmur in defeat.
The woman heaved herself into the back of the ambulance and made herself comfortable beside me after a few seconds of awkwardness. Her uniform crinkled loudly as she bent across me to get a clipboard.
“Miss Iris Sade Hanes. Okay, let’s see…my name is Wendy. I’ll be the paramedic assisting you tonight. I’m going to run a few checks on your vital organs. Is that okay?” She eyeballed my father, and then me.
My dad smiled tightly. “That’d be fine.”
“Mike insisted that you’d be alright.” She narrowed her eyes at my father in disapproval. “With him being a doctor himself, he probably knows best. However, it’s always good to have an outside opinion on things.”
Wendy pressed her stethoscope to my chest. I shiver from its coldness. “Heartbeat’s strong.” She wrote that down. Afterwards, she wrapped a cuff around my arm that squeezed me to the point of wincing. “Blood pressure is a little high, but nothing to worry about.” She noted. “I’ll need you to take a few deep breaths.”
I inhale and exhale like she asked and let her finish running all of her tests. I don’t really pay attention to most of what she said. I am too distracted by my troubled thoughts. I recall the way my body seemed to shut down during the incident and began to truly grasp how dangerous the situation had been. I wonder about the strange dream that followed. What had it all meant?
“You seem perfectly healthy! I can’t find anything wrong. The debris didn’t break any skin, and there doesn’t appear to be any bruising or damage to your lungs. It’s like you weren’t even injured.” My father and I shared a look. Wendy put her clipboard up and handed him something to sign. “And you’re sure that you wouldn’t like to take her to the hospital for further tests?”
My father shook his head. “I’m perfectly sure.”
“Okay, then. Just fill those out, and I’ll be on my way.”
My father said something in response, but I didn’t hear him. I had already stood up and made my way over to Mr. White. He was speaking to another fire-fighter. His big, bright yellow suit was coated with a layer of ash. I tap him on the shoulder, and then rub my fingers together to rid them of the dust.
“Mr. White?” I greet.
He looked surprised to see me up and moving about. “Iris! How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I wanted to thank you for saving us.”
Mr. White patted me on the head. “Anytime. But, you should probably thank Cameron. He’s the one who heard you. He’s always had impeccable hearing. He should be around here somewhere. I’m sure he’d appreciate the praise seeing as tonight was his first run.”
“I’ll see if I can find him then. And have you seen my mom around?”
His eyebrow rose, and he glanced at where my father stood signing paperwork. “Does your father know you’re asking me this?”
“Please?”
He rubbed his stubble, then sighed deeply. “She’s inside the house taking a bath or something. Make it quick.”
“Thanks!” I turn to leave, but he grabbed my arm.
“You didn’t hear it from me.” He said with a wink.
“Hear what?” A grin had crept into my words.
Mr. White chuckled.
I run towards the house. Fire-fighters were milling around like ants, winding up hoses and chattering. Mrs. Peeble groped the scene with beady eyes from her balcony, clutching her fluffy canine close to her chest. I knew that by morning the entire community would know that my mom had become a drunk and nearly burned the whole house down. Mrs. Peeble’s favorite hobbies included sticking her stuck-up nose in other people’s business, spreading rumors, and complaining to my parents that my loud music playing was interrupting her dog’s beauty sleep. But hey, she saved our lives. She can complain as much as she wants.
I take a deep breath of the crisp night air, inhaling more smoke than I was prepared for. I co
ugh, having been caught a bit off guard, before diving into the house in search for mom. A fire-fighter grunted past me with a black bag full of debris slung over his shoulder as I make my way down the hall. My feet squish along the soaked carpet. I notice that for the most part the house was undamaged. A tall officer stood at the kitchen threshold, writing something on a notepad.
I enter my mom and dad’s room. The spacey, modern bedroom—courtesy of mom—was empty. There’s a bright glow beneath the bathroom door. I sit on the edge of their high mattress to wait. I hear water running. She must have just started running the bathwater.
Five seconds passed.
Five minutes.
I pace the room, getting anxious when I comprehend that the water is still running. I put a hand over my mouth, feeling terrible for not realizing it sooner. She had probably turned it on so that no one would hear her crying. I slowly walk up to the door, prepared to knock, but hesitate. I should give her some more time to herself.
I stand in front of the oval mirror and stare at my reflection for a while. I palm myself on the forehead when I realize that I had been walking in front of everyone with my night cap on this entire time. I snatch it off and finger the coarse curls that lay in a tangled mess atop my head. When I see the damage done to my cap, I’m grateful that I had been wearing it. Otherwise my hair would’ve been in trouble.
I lightly touch around my bloodshot eyes. My fingertips were tender from having burned them earlier when trying to open the kitchen door. I frown. It had never taken so long to heal a wound as minute as this. And what was with the way my body had shut down? I meet the eyes in my reflection. Why? Why had that happened—
My chest constricts, that cold grip tightening upon it once more. I sharply inhale, and then warmth floods back into my body. I let out a shaky breath, feeling like I had been released from the hands of death itself. My hands tremble so badly that I’ve got to ball my fists to stop them. “What is going on?” I whisper aloud.
Not long after the question leaves my mouth, a foreboding sensation washes over me. My head jerks towards the bathroom door. I cross the room in two strides, maybe it was three. I don’t know and couldn’t tell you later. Time seemed to slow down and then speed up. “Mom?” My voice is already frantic.
I wiggle the handle.
It’s locked.
My heart skips a beat. “Open the door!” I shout, my fists pounding against it. I kick at it as hard as I can.
I don’t remember running into the hallway and calling for help or leading the firefighter to the bathroom and screaming for him to open it.
My brain finally catches up with me when I see her pale fingers loosen their grip on the edge of the tub and sink down. They were painted pink, a little chipped because she had done them last weekend before going out to eat with a girlfriend. Strange that I would remember something so random at the time, but death was pretty random too. It just sort of happens.
For a moment I only stare at her, ears ringing and world tilting. Her ink black hair was floating around her like a halo. Her white robe swam about. Pale legs peeked out. Her dark brown eyes were wide open. Staring at nothing and everything. She was perfectly still, even though her image wiggled in my mind. It trembled.
I blink.
The image cleared.
“Oh, shit!” Someone yelled.
I had forgotten about the man beside me. The fire-fighter. He didn’t pause or hesitate, just went straight into action. His arms dove into the tub. More water spilled over the rim and splashes onto my bare legs. The water was cool. He lifted her out of the tub and ran into the bedroom, nearly tripping at the threshold, and laid her on the floor.
He started doing CPR immediately, pressing on her chest, harder than what I thought he was supposed to. I stare at him. “What are you doing? Go get help!” He shouted at me. He breathed twice into her mouth, and then went back to compressions. “What the hell! Why are you just standing there?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Shaking like crazy, I merely stare at the bottom of my mom’s pale feet.
He left my mom and rushed to my side. I want to tell him to go back to her. I don’t need his help. I’m not the one dying. Or dead. He basically had to drag me out of the bathroom. “You’re in shock.” He ran out of the door and into the hallway.
I back up against the wall so hard that a picture frame falls and cracks. It was us at the beach. My mom was in her new bikini, and my dad was as red as a lobster even though he had put on plenty of sunscreen that day. We all held hands. I was younger and smiling way too big. Smiling. The opposite of what I am doing now.
That’s what tore me.
All of my tears and snot and wails just keep coming. I can’t stop. I don’t want to. I am about to explode. I have to release some of the pressure.
I can’t breathe.
I run to her side and fall to my knees. I grip her arms and shoulders. My fingers dig into her flesh. I shake her and bury my face into her robe, choking on another sob. Her robe is cold and wet.
Still, I can barely breathe.
Something within me finally snaps, and I start gasping for air. “No!” I wail. “Please!” I scream until my voice is raw, until I taste copper. Someone’s arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me back. I claw and kick. “I won’t leave her!”
“Shhh, Iris. It’ll be okay. J-just breathe. It’ll b-be okay.” My dad whispered into my ear, voice breaking with emotion.
It isn’t going to be okay.
I am being passed to someone else. I cling to my father’s arm, determined to never let go. I can’t lose him too. “Go with him, Iris. It’ll be okay.” He kept saying it was going to be okay, even though it wasn’t ever going to be okay again.
“I wa-”
“Please, go! You don’t need to see her like this.”
I am about to tell him that he doesn’t need to either, but I am ripped away and hauled out of the room before I can. “Let me go!” I scratch the guy carrying me in the face. He cursed and released his hold.
I run as soon as my feet hit the ground. I can hardly see anything as I shove my way through the house.
I don’t stop until I reach the back patio. As soon as I take a breath of the cool night air, I puke my guts out. The roses planted in our raised garden bed only add to my nausea. I used to think her roses smelled so sweet, but now they’re bitter. I scratch at my throat, utterly overwhelmed.
Someone bumped me on the shoulder. I had forgotten about the fire-fighter again. He was so quiet.
“What?” I croak. My face is hung over the side of the porch, my hair falls around me, and my hands grip the railing tight.
“Here.” His voice was deep.
I see it in my peripheral. It’s a rag. My hand shakes as I reach out to take it. I hold it to my skin. “Thanks.” I murmur. I don’t look at him while I scrub my face. I practice breathing for a few minutes, and I try not to think about what I just saw.
I hear him shift on his feet.
“Did my dad send you out here to make sure I don’t end up like her?” I ask bluntly. I regret asking the harsh question as soon as it leaves my lips.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked instead of answering.
I stare out at the garden, still dazed. “No.” I finally mutter.
He sighed and sat down in one of our patio chairs. “Are you sure?”
“My mom’s dead.” Just saying the words make my temple throb and my stomach churn. “What else is there to say?”
“You could just talk about your feelings. It helps.”
“I don’t even know you.” I retort.
“It really does help to say it out loud.”
“Leave me be.” I bite out. “Go back in the house. I just want to be left alone.”
“It’s a nice view out here. I think I’ll stay.”
A long moment of silence passes between us. I squeeze my eyes shut, head pounding as thoughts of my mother begin to trickle in. I’d never hear her voice ag
ain or have the chance to blush when she complimented one of my outfits. She’s gone. My mom is gone. That fast. Just a few minutes ago. It really happened. This isn’t a dream. I don’t even know how to feel. Gosh, I can’t do this right now…I can’t think about her.
“I’m in college.” He finally stated, freeing me from my thoughts. I’m grateful. “I don’t really want to be though. It sucks, but my dad expects it. He’s not forcing me to go or anything. It’s just…I don’t want to let him down.”
I finally meet his eyes, realizing that he’s trying to keep my mind off of what we both just witnessed. There’s a scarlet trail on his cheek. My doing. I hand him the rag. “Here.” I manage.
He looked at the rag but didn’t wipe the blood from his face. He patted the chair beside him instead. I sit down, pulling my knees to my chest and sniffling.
“Are you a Junior or Senior?” He asked.
“Senior.”
“Favorite color?”
“Blue. Yours?” I lean back in my chair.
“Red.”
“How old are you?”
“17.”
“I’m 19.”
“What is…” He seemed to search for another question, “your favorite food?”
“Shrimp.”
“Mine’s mashed potatoes.” He twiddled his thumbs together.
I jump in surprise when someone knocked on the screen door. “Sorry to intrude.” The tall officer from earlier stepped through. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”
My eyes widen, and my throat closes up.
“I’ll be answering your questions.” My dad came through the screen door. His voice was hoarse. “She’s been through enough tonight.”
“I understand. If you’ll follow me, I’ll be quick. This is just standard procedure.”
My dad glanced my way before following the officer.
It’s a while before the firefighter spoke again. “You know…” He started. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what to tell you. I don’t have any…advice to give you. I’m not sure how to handle a situation like this. I mean, my grandparents on both sides of the family passed away a few years before I was born, so it’s always just been me, mom, and dad. I’ve never lost any family.”