by Erin Duffy
Chapter 21
THE ACCIDENT WAS a blur. I didn’t remember too much of it, just that I was crossing the street while simultaneously trying to post something on Lissy’s Instagram to help promote the new store opening, and ended up bouncing off the hood of someone’s car and landing on my back in the middle of the road.
There were lights. Bright, pulsing, blinding lights. There was pain. Stabbing, throbbing, shooting pain. There was yelling, and screaming, and shrieking. Someone kept telling me not to move, and that I was going to be okay because she was a nurse and I guess that meant that she wasn’t going to let me die on the pavement in front of a stationery store. Lissy appeared out of nowhere, and dropped down on her knees next to me.
“Oh my God. Claire? Claire, can you hear me?” she asked. “Please say something. Talk to me.”
“I don’t think my Instagram picture posted. You might have to redo it,” I whispered, once again babbling things that were completely inappropriate given the situation.
“That’s okay. We’ll worry about Instagram later.”
“Okay,” I said.
Lights continued to flash on and off in front of my eyes. I squinted. Squinting hurt. Every time I squeezed my eyes shut I felt like someone in my brain was trying to punch my eyeballs out of their sockets from inside my skull. It was as rhythmic as a bass drum, over and over and over.
“An ambulance is on the way. I’ll come with you, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything. You’re totally going to be fine, but you need to stay calm,” Lissy ordered, which was strange since she was the one panicking and I hadn’t moved at all.
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed. “I’m totally fine. I don’t need an ambulance. Just help me up. I need to go get Bo,” I said. I tried to move. I couldn’t.
Somewhere off in the distance a woman was crying. “I didn’t see her!” she wailed. “She just walked out in front of me!” What’s her problem? I wondered. I’m the one who just got hit by the car. Some people could be so dramatic.
“Why can’t I get up?” I asked.
“You’re in shock,” the nurse said. She held her finger up in front of my eyes and moved it back and forth like the metronome my childhood piano teacher kept perched on the top of her Steinway.
“Oh,” I said.
“Can you tell me what hurts?”
“Everything,” I answered, which probably wasn’t very helpful to her, but when I said everything hurt, I meant it. The asphalt was hot, and something sharp was digging into the skin on my arms—small razor blades inflicting a million little cuts. The back of my head felt wet. I was fairly sure it was blood seeping out of my skull. This was my worst fear. I was going to die. I was going to die because of Instagram. Thank God I had my death folder on my computer. I needed to make sure Antonia knew about it before it was too late, because I never actually got around to showing it to her.
“Can you feel this?” the nurse asked. She touched the bottom of my foot with something, I have no idea what.
“Yes. I can feel it.”
“That’s great. That’s really wonderful,” she said.
“Can someone do something about the flashing light?” I asked. “It’s so bright.”
“Oh my God, she’s seeing lights? No, Claire!” Lissy shouted. “Stay away from the light! Somebody do something!”
“Stop it! You’re upsetting her!” the nurse ordered. “She probably has a concussion.”
“You’re right,” Lissy said, calming. “You’re right. That’s fine. We can fix that.”
“Claire, I’m fairly certain you have a concussion, and probably some broken bones. We’re going to get you to the hospital,” Nurse Find-the-Bright-Side-of-Everything said.
“Lissy, I need you to call Antonia. Tell her to call Owen. I was supposed to bring Bo to his house tonight. He’s going to have to come pick him up.”
“Okay. No problem. I can do that.”
“Also, tell Antonia that I have a death folder on my computer and to not forget that Bo really likes his sweet potatoes mashed with coconut milk.”
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll tell her,” Lissy said, and even in my post accident state of shock, I knew she was going to chalk that comment up to my head injury and not take it seriously. That was not acceptable as I’d never been more serious about anything in my life, and this very well may have been my dying wish.
“Tell her. Tell her it’s saved on my desktop,” I said. I was starting to get fuzzy. I thought about my tombstone once again. Claire Mackenzie died on July 11, and Claire Stevens died on September 2. I wasn’t sure how that would read. I hoped the guy doing the inscription would have some ideas on how to handle it.
“Oh, seriously? You have a death folder? About potatoes?”
“Someday, you’ll understand,” I muttered. With that statement, my transformation toward becoming my mother was complete. I felt like maybe it was the perfect time for me to leave.
THIS HAD NOT been a good year. Antonia told me that someday I’d look back on this time in my life and realize that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, but I was pretty sure that even with the benefit of time, wisdom, and perspective I would not ever think that 2016 was one of my better years. I laid on the adjustable bed in the emergency room, my clothes cut off and probably thrown in a Hefty bag somewhere, never to be seen again, which sucked, because I liked the outfit I had on a lot. Instead, I now wore a standard white and blue hospital gown that I didn’t like very much at all, and an itchy white plaster cast on my leg that I downright detested. Lissy sat in a small plastic chair against one of the curtained walls of my cubicle, trying very hard not to show her fear. “It’s not your fault,” I said, quietly. My lips were dry and my tongue felt fat in my mouth, like it didn’t really fit in there.
“If you weren’t posting on stupid Instagram for my stupid store, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe I would’ve walked faster and the car in front of the Toyota was a Hummer that would’ve steamrolled over me. Did you ever think of that?”
“Oh my God, don’t even say that.”
“It was an accident. I’m a big girl. I know I’m supposed to look both ways before crossing the street.”
“It was really scary, Claire. Thank God you’re going to be alright.”
I looked down at the cast on my left leg. This was certainly not something I was planning on dealing with, but all things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse. “Did you call Antonia?” I asked. It occurred to me that this accident might end up being a blessing in disguise. Antonia would never leave me now. If nothing else, I just assured myself another two months with her. The accident might have been worth it just for that. “Where is she?”
“She’s with Bo,” Owen answered as he entered the room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Antonia called and told me what happened. Instead of picking up Bo I asked if she could keep him. I wanted to come down here and see you. Are you okay? You’re lucky you weren’t killed, Claire.”
“I know. Thanks for coming. I appreciate it, I really do. But, you should’ve stayed with Bo,” I said. It wasn’t his responsibility to take care of me anymore. I could take care of me just fine—though today admittedly didn’t do a whole lot to support that point.
“Claire, no matter what happens, you’re still Bo’s mom. You’re the most important person in the world to him, and that means you’ll always be one of the most important people in the world to me. Did you honestly think I was going to hear that a car ran you over and sit at home? Do you think I’m that evil?”
“I do,” Lissy said, which I appreciated. I pushed the call button for the nurse.
“What are you doing?” Owen asked, ignoring Lissy’s comment.
“If you’re going to be here, I’m going to need some more painkillers,” I said, only half kidding.
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Lissy said, looking guilty and staring at the sterile beige floor for an inordinate amount of time.
“I didn’t think Owen was going to be here. I called Fred, too.”
“Who’s Fred?” Owen asked.
“You did?” I asked.
“Her boyfriend. And yes, I did,” Lissy answered.
“You have a boyfriend?” Owen asked. “Who? Wait, don’t tell me the guy from the restaurant?”
“Yes, the guy from the restaurant. His name is Fred, and we’ve been seeing each other for a few months. There wasn’t a reason to tell you.”
“You didn’t scare him away when you attacked me with a pair of scissors?”
“Believe it or not, no.”
Talking about Fred made me think about the conversation we had about the fight at Bo’s birthday party. I’d been waiting for the right time to do it, but it never came, except oddly enough now I thought it had. “Listen, Owen, I want to talk to you,” I said. “I realize that this is kind of a strange time.”
Owen leaned in a little closer to my bed. “Okay. You scared me today,” he admitted. “You scared me to death.”
“I wanted to apologize for some of the things I’ve done since our split. For example, I’m sorry for the hair incident. Really, I am.”
“Thank you,” Owen said.
“And I’m sorry for throwing your mom out of the house on Bo’s birthday. I’m not proud of my behavior that night.”
“Thanks, again. The truth is, Claire, I can’t say I blame you. What I did to you was horrible. Things got really messed up for you, really fast. I don’t know how I’d have reacted if that had happened to me.”
“Yeah, they did.”
“I’m sorry for everything I did, too. I really am,” Owen said. I believed him.
“We shouldn’t have to go through the rest of our lives mad at each other. We can’t do anything about the past, but I’d like Bo to grow up with two parents who respect each other if nothing else. That’s not too grand a dream, is it?”
“No, it’s not. You’re right. I’d like that, too.”
“Good. Do you think we can do it?”
“I think we can. We’re a good team when we’re being a team.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“How come you’ve gone all Dalai Lama on me?”
“A wise man told me to focus on the positive, and to practice forgiveness.”
The curtain rustled, and a doctor entered in his light blue scrubs, his Crocs, and his starched white coat, just so that no one confused him for a nurse. I couldn’t blame him. If I went through what he went through to become an emergency room physician, I’d wear my coat, too. Hell, I’d probably sleep in it.
“Claire Stevens?” he asked. He was kind of cute. Not traditionally cute, like a soap star playing a doctor on TV, but realistically cute, like a doctor playing a doctor in real life, and who therefore didn’t sleep a lot. He had fair skin, brown eyes, and a full head of brown hair interrupted by white streaks that reminded me of the coffee cake my mom used to get at the bakery on Sunday mornings. His voice was deep and commanding without being intimidating—more Morgan Freeman than Darth Vader—and he was a doctor. As long as he wasn’t a fugitive, or married, he was perfect. Actually, as long as he wasn’t married he was perfect. I could get over the fugitive thing. Who hasn’t made some mistakes in life? My list was certainly long.
“That’s me,” I said. “Forgive me for not getting up.”
“You’re very lucky,” he said.
“So I’ve heard.”
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Fred interrupted, popping his head into the gap in the curtain. “I came as soon as I could.”
“Hey there,” I said, trying to sound flirty so that Owen would be annoyed, and Fred would be flattered. I realized that I’d never been in bed with three men in the room before. If I’d ever imagined it (and I hadn’t), it would’ve looked a little different. I wouldn’t have asked to be in a ball gown or anything, but I probably could’ve gone without the steri strips, the hospital gown, the broken bones, the bruises, lacerations, and concussion. The painkillers I would keep. “Come on in. The party’s just getting started.”
The doctor looked at Owen. “Are you her husband?” he asked.
“We’re divorced,” Owen said.
“I can come back later,” Fred offered.
“Absolutely not,” Lissy ordered. “You should stay. Claire wants you here.”
“I do,” I added, the drugs making me slightly worried that I may have just gotten remarried, and I hadn’t even shaved my legs.
“Okay,” the doctor continued. “You have a broken tibia, some superficial cuts and bruises, and a mild concussion. Honestly, you’re a very lucky woman. I can’t believe you only have one broken bone. It could’ve been much worse.”
“I think I’ve fulfilled my bad luck quota for the year. It’s about time that something worked out in my favor.”
“You’re going to be in a cast for the next eight weeks, but after that, you should be as good as new. The bruises and the scrapes will heal. You’ll be pretty sore for a while, but we can give you something for the pain.”
“Whatever you’ve given me here is amazing. I’ll take more of these.”
The doctor laughed. “I hear that a lot.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Are you single?” I waited for the reaction from the peanut gallery.
“What?” Fred, Owen, Lissy, and Doctor Morgan Freeman asked.
“I think she’s had enough painkillers,” Lissy said, trying to assuage what could be a very awkward situation for the perfectly lovely Fred, who raced down here to have to sit in a cubicle made of curtains with his drugged-up girlfriend and her ex-husband.
“No, I definitely haven’t had enough painkillers, but that’s beside the point. I mean it. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m actually wondering if you’re single.”
“I was in a relationship until recently, but I’m single now, yes,” the doctor answered.
“This is good to know,” I sighed. I closed my eyes. This could work. I really believed that this could work. If these last five months had taught me anything it was that there really might be a plan for everyone.
“It is?” he asked. “Why’s that?”
“I have a friend named Antonia,” I said.
“Ohhhhhh,” Lissy, Owen, and Fred sighed.
“Is she coming here, too?” the doctor asked. “You’re running out of room.”
“No, she would be here but she’s babysitting my son right now.”
“She really is a wonderful girl. Very pretty,” Fred added. I knew Fred was a great guy. He had proven that more than once. He stuck around after the dinner debacle. He loved spending time with Bo. He encouraged me to be friends with my ex, and he sanded Lissy’s floors, and he delivered her furniture, and he came here to see me in the hospital, and he believed me when I told him that I was good crazy, and he didn’t have to do any of those things. Now, just in case it wasn’t clear, he was trying to help me find Antonia a boyfriend without her knowledge. If that doesn’t say “keeper,” then nothing did.
“And she’s age appropriate,” Lissy added. “Assuming you don’t only date twenty-three-year-olds.”
“I really think we should get back to talking about your injuries, Claire. But thanks for trying to play matchmaker,” he said.
“You probably get it a lot, huh?” I asked.
“Two to three times a week, and every single time I call home to talk to my mother.”
“Where’s home?” I asked.
“Chicago.”
“Get out of here! That’s where she lives!” This was fate. Now, I was sure of it. God cracked me with a Toyota so that Antonia could finally meet the perfect man. It all made sense.
“She’s babysitting your son in Chicago?”
“No. Well, she technically lives there, but she moved here for a bit to help me out after Prince Charming over here banged the Fairy Go
dmother of Real Estate. It’s a long story.”
“I think maybe it’s time I go,” Owen said.
“No, don’t go. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess. I meant what I said before, okay? We’re going to be friends. Besides, Dr. McCoffeecake doesn’t care about our past. Neither does Fred.”
“My name is Blake.” Blake laughed. For some sick reason, I thought he was actually enjoying this little crazy carnival, which made me even more sure that he and Antonia would hit it off big-time.
“Blake what?” I asked.
“Carpenter.”
“Dr. Carpenter Blake,” I repeated. “That’s interesting. I like it.”
“No. It’s Blake Carpenter. Blake is my first name.”
“Ohhh, I see. You want to be on a first-name basis then,” I said. I was starting to get tired, groggy, and apparently, confused.
“Can we please get back to your broken leg and head issues and worry about Dr. Blake Carpenter’s personal life later?” Lissy asked.
“Fine. That’s so boring, though,” I said. I yawned, and poor Fred was still standing in the corner, probably wishing that he’d stayed very, very far away from here.
“The nurse will be in with some discharge papers, and a prescription. You’re going to be fine. Just rest. You need to lie down for the next few days, and keep your leg elevated. Make sure you take the pills with food. You said you have someone staying with you?”
“Her name is Antonia. She’s thirty-seven, a Sagittarius, and gorgeous. She makes a fantastic lasagna, and I really think you guys should meet.”
“That’s true. It really is delicious,” Lissy agreed.
“She sounds great,” Dr. Blake Cake said. “I assume someone here is going to drive you home?”
Everyone looked at each other. Lissy nodded in Fred’s direction. “I’ll take her home,” he said.
“Great.” The doctor left.
I smiled. I had a man to take care of me. A good man. A man named Fred with Tom Cruise’s nose and a handsome face and a heart even more beautiful than all of that. The doctor was right. I was lucky. And, Percocets were amazing.
“I’d like that,” I said. “Also, this is Owen. Owen, this is Fred. I don’t think you guys have formally met.”