M.I.A.

by Michael Allen Dymmoch

And she was willing. When I licked my finger and slipped it inside, she moaned, “Yes!”

  I was ready to run for home.

  Then I remembered. “Protection!”

  “What?” She half sat up.

  “Where’s that condom?”

  “I don’t know. Who cares?”

  I felt around over the seat and finally located it. I almost dropped it getting it out of the wrapper. Our candle sputtered out. I’d gotten it half on by feel when Beth froze under me.

  “What was that?”

  “Was what?” I could feel the fun fading.

  “I heard a noise.”

  We both held perfectly still while we listened. The crickets had stopped. Cold seeped into the car. I felt the condom slip off, heard it hit the floor.

  “What was that?” Beth whispered.

  I whispered back, “My last condom down the drain.”

  Across the water, an owl hooted. Out on the highway, a truck backfired. Somebody laid on their horn for half a mile.

  Beth took my head in her hands, and I could feel her shaking underneath me—whether from fear or cold I couldn’t tell. We waited until the crickets started up again and we couldn’t take the cold anymore. We didn’t hear anything threatening.

  Finally I whispered, “Maybe we should go to Plan B.”

  “Maybe you should just shut up and hold me.”

  Which I did. The last thing I remember was pulling the old quilt around us and feeling her silky skin warm against mine.

  There was just the slightest bit of pink in the eastern sky when I woke up. The car was freezing, but it was toasty under the old quilt. And Beth was warm and soft. I started getting hard.

  I leaned away from her and touched her cheek. “Wake up, little Suzy.”

  She opened her eyes slowly. “Where—What time is it?”

  “It’s sunup. Happy birthday.” I kissed her on the shoulder. Her skin burned my lips.

  She smiled and stretched. “Good morning.”

  Her face glowed in the dawn light, and I couldn’t help it, I kissed her. She kissed me back.

  We kissed and touched until nature took its course.

  I had a sudden recollection and pulled away.

  She grabbed my hair with both hands. “Don’t stop!”

  “I’m out of condoms!”

  “I don’t care!”

  She grabbed my dick and guided it inside, then wrapped her legs around me for dear life.

  And oh, my God!

  It was the most beautiful sunrise of my life.

  Rhiann

  Monday morning, Jimmy wasn’t home. I didn’t notice right away. I got up and started breakfast. When he didn’t come downstairs at the usual time, I yelled up to him. “Jimmy, you’re going to be late for school.”

  There was no answer, so I went to wake him. The room was empty. His bed hadn’t been slept in.

  The numb disbelief I’d first felt when they told me Mickey was dead started to fill my mind like silt clogging a vacuum filter.

  Why hadn’t he called?

  How could God let this happen to me twice?

  Then my common sense kicked in. Jimmy was a teenager. Boys his age stayed out all night. If he’d been experimenting with booze again, I could only hope he’d had the sense to sleep it off. Mickey and I always insisted we’d drive to hell to get him—no questions asked—if he got drunk or stranded with someone who was planning to drive drunk. And if he’d had a breakdown, it was fifty—mostly rural—miles between Overlook and Greenville. If he’d had a breakdown, I’d hear from him sooner or later.

  I decided to go to work. If something bad had happened, the police would let me know.

  Jimmy

  “Drop me off here.” Beth was smiling and there was something different about her. She seemed less giggly, more definite.

  It was still early, but we were pushing our luck. I stopped next to her neighbor’s hedge so my car was hidden from her house.

  “I hate to let you go,” I said.

  “Let me out. If anyone sees me come in, I’ll say I went out to get the paper.” She pointed to the rolled-up newspaper lying at the end of her driveway.

  “What if they see you come from over here?”

  “I’ll say it was such a beautiful morning I went for a walk.”

  “I want you. I-want-you-I-want-you-I-want-you.”

  She laughed. “You’ll see me Friday.”

  “No shit!”

  “Kiss me good-bye. Quick. I gotta get ready for school.”

  I had less than two hours to get home and to school, and my brakes were starting to feel a little soft. Need to check the fluid. One more damn thing to do today. I didn’t let it bother me, though. After this morning, nothing was gonna bother me.

  I turned up the radio and pushed the buttons until a moldy oldie station started blasting out the Moody Blues—“The Story in Your Eyes.” One of my folks’ favorites, that I’d grown up listening to. I turned up the volume and put the pedal to the metal.

  I was still booking when I came over the hill above Overlook. I had about twenty minutes to get to the house, grab my books, and make it to school before the bell. Halfway down the hill, I figured I’d better take it a little slower and I started to brake.

  Nothing happened.

  I was speeding up. Getting close to the T-intersection at the bottom of the slope. I pumped the brake. The pedal went to the floor. Still nothing happened.

  Except the car kept going faster.

  I downshifted. Looked for the safest way to turn. Traffic was coming from both directions on the cross street.

  I pumped the brake again—from habit. I shifted down one last time and leaned on the horn. Just before I blew past the stop sign, there was a tiny break in traffic from the left.

  I jerked the wheel to the right and floored it into the turn. Too fast. I would have tail-ended the car I tore in behind if I hadn’t cut onto the shoulder. Horns blared.

  I felt a wheel catch in a rut. Something snapped in the front suspension. The steering wheel jerked out of my hands. The car seemed to take off over the ditch. A big ditch. I was suddenly airborne.

  Last thing I remember was somebody screaming, “Oh, shit!”

  Me.

  Rhiann

  The police did let me know. I’d been at work an hour when Sheriff Linden came into the office, hat in hand, and strode up to my desk.

  “Mrs. Fahey, your son’s been in an accident. He’s pretty bad. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  In the car he said, “According to the witnesses, your son ran a stop sign and took the corner too fast—where the road Ts at the bottom of that hill near your house. He went off on the shoulder and hit the tail end of the guard rail. Went airborne and rolled over. If he wasn’t wearin’ his seat belt he’d be dead.”

  I stared straight ahead and tried to relax the stranglehold I had on my purse strap. I didn’t say anything until the sheriff pulled up at the emergency entrance and said, “Anybody I could notify for you?”

  “My cousin Steve Reilly. In Greenville.” I released my seat belt and reached for the door handle. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

  He took his seat belt off, too. “I’ll walk you in.”

  The hospital staff were used to dealing with hysterical mothers. One of the nurses put an arm around me and steered me to the admitting counter, where another woman in nurse’s scrubs explained that Jimmy was being prepped for surgery. He had a concussion, and a compound fracture that had to be repaired. I could help by signing an authorization to let them go ahead. He needed blood, too. If I could donate, it might give me something to do during the wait.

  I signed a pile of papers, promised to pay if we didn’t have insurance. I would have signed my soul away to get on with it and see my son.

  The first nurse came back and led me into the heart of the building, where Jimmy lay on a gurney, white and still as a corpse.

  Inside, I felt as dead as he looked.

  They let me touch him. And
kiss him. Then they wheeled him away.

  John

  When Jimmy didn’t show up for work Monday afternoon, I didn’t think too much about it. It was the first time he’d blown me off, but he was at the age where an occasional lapse was to be expected. By four-thirty, I was uneasy—the kid was too reliable. I called the house and got no answer. I finally called Rhiann at work.

  Her boss picked up. “Farmer Shipping.”

  “Mr. Farmer, is Rhiann Fahey there?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Her son’s employer. Jimmy didn’t show up for work today.”

  “That’s because he’s in the hospital. He crashed his car.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad.”

  I went to the hospital on the outside chance that I could give blood or something. They were just a little too eager when they found out that my blood type was A negative, pushed me to the head of the line and rushed my contribution off to the lab as soon as they pulled the needle from my arm. They gave me juice and cookies and told me to take it easy for a while. For some reason, they seemed to think I was family. When I asked about Jimmy, they sent me up to the ICU waiting room.

  Rhiann was there, deep in conversation with a man about her own age, so she didn’t see me. Not wanting to interrupt, I took a seat near the elevator.

  Within a few minutes, a doctor arrived. After a short conference with Rhiann and her friend, the doctor and Rhiann went into the ICU, leaving her companion staring after them.

  They came out five minutes later.

  “He’s stable,” the doctor told us, “but he’ll be out of it for hours.” He looked pointedly at Rhiann. “Meanwhile, you should get some rest.”

  “I can’t.”

  The doctor shrugged and left.

  Rhiann noticed me and made introductions. “Steve, this is my neighbor, John Devlin.

  “John, my cousin Steve.”

  “You the guy Jimmy works for?” Steve asked.

  “Yes.”

  Rhiann was still looking at me. “You heard the doctor?”

  I nodded. “From what Frank Farmer said, it sounded pretty serious. I came to see if I could help.”

  “That’s good of you.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do except wait. And pray.”

  She started to go back into the ICU, to Jimmy, then stopped. “Could you take Steve to my house? And bring him back in the morning?”

  I felt the green-eyed monster creeping up. I stifled it and said, “Surely.”

  Steve started to protest, but Rhiann said, “Please, Steve. You can call my parents for me. I can’t deal with it. And you can spell me tomorrow.”

  He shrugged. “Can I get you coffee or something before we go?”

  She shook her head and smiled. I’d have given ten years of my life to have her smile at me like that. “I’ll be all right,” she told him. To me, she just said, “Thanks, John.”

  As we passed the blood bank, the phlebotomist hurried out.

  “Mr. Devlin.” She handed me a fist-sized red paper badge, heart-shaped and self-adhesive. “I forgot to give you this.”

  It said, BE NICE TO ME. I GAVE BLOOD TODAY.

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping Steve hadn’t noticed. “That won’t be necessary.”

  She kept holding it out, so I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket.

  Steve didn’t comment. We rode in silence for several miles before he asked, “Do you believe in God, Devlin?”

  I shrugged. He waited.

  I finally said, “It’s hard to sometimes.”

  “Yeah. I know that kid. He’s stayed with me all summer. Never got a clue he would drink, much less drink and drive. And he was a good driver. Is.” Steve shook his head. “Rhiann doesn’t deserve this.” There was a long pause before he added, “If there is a God, he’s a nasty bastard.”

  I dropped Steve at the hospital the next morning and waited until he was inside before I parked. The business office wasn’t open for an hour, so I used the time to call my shop manager and get him started on the day. Then I went to the cafeteria to find out what I could about the hospital and the doctors who worked there.

  Judging by the scuttlebutt, the hospital was a place its staff would be comfortable being treated. The surgeons thought they were gods, but maybe were. The ICU head nurse was Patton reincarnated for the war on death. The recovery-floor nurses were Mother Theresa’s kin. I relaxed a little.

  When the office opened, I arranged for Jimmy to get a private room—for which his mother would be charged the semi-private rate. And I made sure word of the arrangement would never get out.

  They’d moved Jimmy into the surgical recovery unit by the time I got back that afternoon. The elderly woman at the front desk asked if I was family and gave me directions when I told her yes.

  Jimmy was still unconscious, Rhiann and Steve still holding watch. They didn’t seem to think I was out of line joining them.

  Rhiann turned the TV on, turned it off, walked down the hall to make a call on the pay phone. Steve paged through all the magazines from the waiting area by the nurse’s station. Then he came back in Jimmy’s room and stared out the window. I offered to get takeout; no one was interested. Staff came and checked Jimmy’s vitals. They reported there was no change and left. The boy slept. We waited.

  Jimmy

  The first thing I remember is hurting, ’specially my leg. I didn’t want to open my eyes because they hurt, too. And even through my eyelids, the light seemed really bright.

  I couldn’t remember where I was. Or where I was s’posed to be. Or what day it was.

  I couldn’t remember my name.

  That was really scary.

  So I made myself open up and look around.

  Ma was there.

  I think I said, “Mom?”

  I can’t remember what she said, but I knew everything would be all right because Ma would take care of things.

  I tried to ask her what she said. Or something. I don’t remember. Everything was too much.

  So I closed my eyes again.

  And I guess I went back to sleep.

  John

  Jimmy opened his eyes around three in the afternoon. His first word was “Mom?”

  “I’m here, Jimmy.”

  “What happened?”

  “You were in an accident.”

  Jimmy said, “Oh,” though he didn’t seem to understand. He drifted back to sleep.

  Around seven Deputy Sheriff Sinter dropped in. Steve was in the can. Under the circumstances, I hung back. I didn’t want to start anything.

  Sinter didn’t notice me. He made a point to hug Rhiann. It was obvious she wasn’t comfortable with that, but she didn’t make a fuss.

  “Rhiann,” he said, “let me take you home. You’re too tired to drive. You can take a shower and catch forty winks. Jimmy’s in good hands. He’ll be okay.”

  “No.”

  I stepped forward and said, “She has a ride.”

  Sinter froze. “What’re you doing here?”

  Rhiann stepped close to me and slipped her hand beneath my arm. “John came to drive me home.”

  Sinter seemed to think that over, then told her curtly, “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  There was nothing else for him to do but leave.

  Steve came out of the can and picked up on something wrong. He looked from her to me and back, waiting to be clued in. He finally asked, “What’s up?”

  “You just missed Trooper Sinter,” Rhiann said.

  “That creep you told me about?”

  “Yeah.”

  He looked at me. “Good thing you were here.” He looked at Rhiann. “You should get some rest. I’ll stay with Jimmy.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You can’t do anything more for him tonight. The doctor said he’s stable.”

  I waited, not willing to weigh in on the debate, though I, too, thought she needed sleep.

  �
��Honestly, Rhiann,” he continued, “you’ll be more use to him when he wakes up if you’re rested. Go home and get a shower. If there’s any change I’ll call you. Or you could come back here to sleep. But it’ll do you good to get out of here for a while.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Devlin’ll drive you—won’t you?”

  “Of course.” I looked at her. “I’ll bring you right back if you like.”

  “I’m so tired, I can’t think.” She rested her chin on her palm, supporting her elbow with the other hand.

  Steve shook his head. “I rest my case. Take her home, Devlin.”

  I touched her shoulder. “How ’bout it?”

  She nodded, and I put a hand under her arm to steer her out.

  In the car, she spotted the crumpled paper heart I’d tossed on the seat and started sobbing.

  I said, “I’m sorry—What?”

  “That someone we’ve known for years can be such a jerk.” She picked up the heart and turned it round and round. “And a virtual stranger so kind. Steve told me you gave blood!”

  “Just a half hour of my time. I’ll replace the blood in a couple weeks.”

  She dropped the heart back on the seat and got a Kleenex from her purse.

  “Let’s get you home,” I added. “It’ll be easier when you’ve had some sleep.”

  “Jimmy could die! How does that get easier?”

  “He’s in God’s hands.”

  “Will you pray for him?”

  “If it’ll help you.”

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You don’t sound like a believer.”

  “I stopped praying when my mother died.”

  “I cursed God when He took Mickey. Do you s’pose that’s why Jimmy—?”

  “God wouldn’t be vindictive.”

  In spite of what Steve said.

  She started sobbing again.

  I leaned over the gap between the bucket seats and pulled her against me. I held her until she drifted off, then eased her against the passenger door and put the seat belt around her. She slept until I’d parked the Jeep in her drive. She followed my instructions like a robot as I led her to her door and saw her safely in.