Lights Out (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  Mr. Marshall had a crush on her. Ugh. He was a nice man and all, but not her type. He had spent more than enough time with her and Joe last night, and her plans were thwarted again. She’d given every possible hint at her disposal to get him to move along. No such luck. After about an hour or more, Joe had given up, too. He left before she’d gotten the chance to ask him. Mr. Marshall was her very own version of Sondra, and a not-so-perfect ending to her evening.

  It was quiet this morning. The kids were sleeping, and it was the first quiet she’d had in a while. She showered and headed toward the kitchen, in the mood for pancakes. She opened Ken’s door. Yep, sound asleep. Pepper stood up and trotted out. Next she checked on Taylor, who was in the top bunk. Piper couldn’t see her face. Shane slept snuggled into the lower bunk, moving around a little as she peered in. Piper and the dogs made their way downstairs and to the kitchen. Piper opened the back door and they scampered out.

  She turned the coffee maker on, walked over to the sink, and looked out the window above it that faced her back yard. She watched as McKenzie and Pepper made the backyard rounds, searching for early morning prey. She poured herself a cup and walked over to the door, letting the dogs in. They both trotted upstairs and took their usual sleeping places outside the girls’ doors.

  She turned and walked over to the dishwasher. Of course it needed to be emptied. She opened the dishwasher door, preparing to put the dishes away. She walked over to the CD player and selected a nice, slow zydeco tune to start the day. She turned the volume to low and went back to work removing dishes from the dishwasher.

  She didn’t hear Shane enter; just felt the sting of someone hitting her butt and the shock had her standing up quickly, too quickly. Her head caught the corner of the cabinet—hard.

  WTF was her only thought before everything went black. Piper fell like a tree into Shane, knocking him down underneath her. Shane had been standing there in shock at what he’d done. He’d been pretending he was his uncle, doing what had worked so well for Joe. Piper had fallen into him and they’d both barely missed Ken, who had followed Shane down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “You’ve killed my sister!” Kennedy shouted at the top of her lungs, watching as blood leaked from Piper’s head.

  “Go get Taylor,” Shane said urgently, his hands shaking, trying to slide from underneath Piper without hurting her more.

  “Go get Taylor!” he said again, louder this time, as he slid free of Piper’s body. “Now, Ken!” Ken took off. He could hear her feet on the steps. He looked at Piper’s head. There was a deep cut; blood was seeping out of it, starting to run to the floor. What to do?

  Think, Shane. Stop the bleeding. He remembered that first aid class he’d taken with his uncle. He needed to apply pressure, needed a towel. He looked around the room for one. Where was a clean towel? Be calm and think. Don’t panic.

  He stood up, dashed to the counter, and grabbed several towels just as Taylor slid into the kitchen, baseball cap on. She slept in that thing, he now knew. Kennedy entered a second behind her.

  “What happened?”

  “She hit her head. It knocked her out.”

  “Call 911,” Shane said, applying the towel to Piper’s head where blood still escaped. Taylor reached for the phone, dialed 911, and squatted down next to Shane.

  “Do you think she’s dead?” Taylor asked, voice shaky.

  “No, she’s breathing,” Shane said, his voice wavering. “Look, her chest is moving.” Taylor bent her head down to Piper’s nose, nodding in confirmation.

  “911. Do you need police, fire, or an ambulance?” the person on the line asked.

  “My sister hit her head and knocked herself out,” Taylor said, hands shaking. Ken had started to cry.

  “Stay on the line and let me get you to EMS.”

  Then a different voice came on the line. “What is the address of the emergency?”

  “It’s 1753 Saddleback Street. My sister’s head is bleeding,” Taylor said.

  “Is there an adult in the home?”

  “My sister, but she’s the one who hit her head. It’s just me and my little sister and a friend.”

  “What is your telephone number?”

  “It’s 767-3465. My sister is not waking up. You’ve got to come quick.”

  “We are. The ambulance is on the way now. I need you to answer a few more questions. Someone is on their way, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Taylor Knight.”

  “Is your sister conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Is she breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she bleeding?”

  “Yes, but my friend has a towel over the cut. He say’s it’ll keep her from bleeding so much,” Taylor said.

  “Good. Stay on the line. That was fast thinking on your friend’s part. Do you have any pets?”

  “Yes. Two dogs.”

  “I need you to put them away. The ambulance will be there soon.”

  Taylor turned to her sister. “Kennedy, stop crying and go make sure McKenzie and Pepper are locked away.” She watched as Kennedy left the room.

  “My little sister is going to put them up now.”

  “You’re doing good, sweetheart,” the operator said.

  “The ambulance is close to your home now. In a few minutes you’ll hear them knocking on the door. I want you to let them in. Is this a cordless phone?”

  “Yes,” Taylor answered as Kennedy arrived in the door, out of breath.

  “The dogs are in my room and the door is closed,” Kennedy said.

  “The dogs are locked away,” Taylor told the operator.

  “Good. Take the phone with you when you answer the door.”

  “Okay.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twelve, and my sister is ten. My friend is twelve, too.”

  Taylor and Shane looked up at the sound of knocking on the door.

  “I hear them knocking,” Taylor said.

  “Okay. Go answer the door. Stay on the line. Take the phone with you.”

  “Okay,” she said, walking to the front door.

  “You’re doing a good job. Let me know when you open the door,” the operator said, as Taylor opened the door.

  “They’re inside,” Taylor said.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “My sister is this way,” she said, leading two EMTs toward the kitchen. One was an African-American woman, and the other a short, bald-headed young Hispanic with glasses. They entered the kitchen.

  Piper still lay in the same spot, Shane holding the bloodied towel to her head as if his life depended on it, his face marked by anxiety.

  “Hello. My name is Earline, and I’m a paramedic. I’ve come to help your sister. Would you please stand over there with your friend,” she said to Shane as she bent down at Piper’s side. Shane moved to stand near the door with Taylor and Kennedy.

  I need to call Joe, Shane thought. He slipped out the door, hitting the stairs two at a time, and ran down the hall to Taylor’s room. He found his phone in his backpack. He punched in Joe’s cell number and waited. It was early, so Joe was probably still asleep.

  “Hey buddy. You’re up early,” Joe said, answering the phone on the first ring. He’d gotten up early and was sitting on the couch drinking coffee and watching the sports recap.

  “You have to come quick, I hurt Piper. She hit her head and now the ambulance is here,” Shane said and started to cry.

  “Hey, dude, calm down,” Joe said, standing up and walking to his room. He dressed quickly and headed toward his garage door, scooping up his keys as he listened to Shane continue crying.

  “Come on, Shane, it’ll be okay. I’m on the way. Where are you now?” Joe asked, walking to his car, getting in, and pulling out of the garage a few seconds later.

  “Upstairs. I ha
d to call you,” Shane said.

  “Good buddy, take a deep breath, you’re okay. You’ve got to stop crying, though. I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Can you do that?” he asked, turning the corner of his street. Thankfully Piper lived close to him, less than five minutes away.

  “Yes,” he answered, taking a deep breath.

  “Now keep the phone with you and walk back downstairs to check on Piper. I’ll be there in less than three minutes. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Shane said. He had stopped crying. Joe turned off his street and sped onto the major thoroughfare that would take him to Piper’s, hoping his luck would hold and he wouldn’t encounter any police.

  “Piper is still on the ground,” Shane said, breathless now and back in the kitchen. “They are looking in her eyes now with a light.”

  “She’s waking up,” he told Joe as Piper’s eyes fluttered and then opened.

  “Good. I’m hanging up. I’m on Piper’s street now. I’ll see you in a minute,” Joe said, the lights of the ambulance coming into view. He pulled in and parked in the drive next to it. He was out of his car in a flash. The front door was unlocked. He could hear conversation as he made his way into the kitchen. He stepped inside to find Piper being loaded and strapped onto the gurney.

  “Is there anyone to help you with the children?” the female EMT asked Piper.

  “I can,” Joe said, looking at her.

  “Okay. Is that okay, Ms. Knight?” she asked, and accepted Piper’s nod of confirmation. Piper gave a weak smile to Joe.

  “Sir, we are going to have to transport her to the hospital. She needs stitches. If you’d like to meet us there, we’ll be taking her to Seton on Thirty-eighth. Are you familiar with that hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “We are leaving now,” the female EMT said, rolling Piper through the kitchen doorway and down the hall to the front door.

  “Shane, how about you, Taylor, and Kennedy put some clothes on and we’ll follow Piper to the hospital,” he said. “That way we can bring her home when she’s done.” He squeezed Shane’s shoulder.

  They headed to their rooms while he followed the EMTs out into the early morning sunshine. He glanced over at Piper, who gave him another weak smile. He smiled back and squeezed her hand, then stood aside and watched as she was loaded into the ambulance. The doors closed. He watched the ambulance back out and pull away and then turned to go inside. He found Shane, Kennedy, and Taylor at the door, ready to go.

  “Dogs?” he asked.

  “In their crates,” they replied on unison.

  “She’ll be okay,” he said, making sure the door was locked before joining them in his car. He backed out of the drive. He looked in the rear view mirror, taking in apprehension and worry on all three faces, now quiet. “The EMTs told me what a good job the three of you had done in making sure Piper received help.”

  “I did just like we learned in class,” Shane said.

  “So tell me what happened,” he said, looking back at the road, listening to Shane recount the story through his tears. He hadn’t had that kind of scare since he was a kid, but it could have been so much worse.

  He pulled up into the parking lot reserved for emergency room patients, and all four walked through the automatic doors. They made their way to the emergency room waiting area. It was empty. Joe marched to the admitting desk. An older Hispanic woman with her hair pulled back into a bun sat behind a window.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, a friend of mine just arrived by ambulance. We are here to drive her home.”

  “Her name?”

  “Piper Knight.”

  “And you are?”

  “Joe Sandborne,” he said.

  “Well, thank you, I’ll make note of it,” she said.

  Joe strode over to the kids, their faces forlorn and anxious.

  “She will be all right,” he said again, taking the seat next to Shane.

  * * *

  Joe looked at his watch. 8:30 a.m. They’d been waiting for thirty minutes now. The waiting room was still empty. Shane sat next to him, looking totally dejected. Kennedy sat next to him, her arm on Shane’s, offering comfort, and Taylor next to her, baseball cap pulled low on her head. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  Joe looked over at Shane and caught his eye. “Do you guys want anything to eat? Maybe we could find a snack machine.”

  “Yes. But could I go to the restroom first?” Taylor asked.

  “Sure, let’s find one,” Joe said, standing. “There is one over there." Taylor and Kennedy headed off in that direction, and Joe turned to Shane, glad for the opportunity to talk to him alone.

  “Shane, what were you thinking?” he asked. He had been given all the details as to what had happened on the drive over. He just needed the why from Shane.

  Shane was quiet, his eyes looking forward. “You’ll get angry,” he said.

  “I won’t get angry. Just tell me why.”

  “I’ve seen you do it a thousand times. The girls like it when you do it,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “You know, in the mornings or sometimes late at night. Sometimes they’re in the kitchen with you, looking through our refrigerator or making coffee, and you pop them sometimes on their butts. They always laugh, not hit their heads and almost die.”

  “She didn’t almost die,” he said, his hand moving to rest on Shane’s head.

  He was at a loss for words. He’d thought that Shane had been asleep during those nights, racking his brain and finally remembering that one time—but that was just one time, or so he’d thought.

  “I only remember one time.”

  “It was more, but you didn’t see me…I like the way the girls like you and I thought I could try it out on Piper.”

  “But she’s an adult,” he said gently, saddened by his nephew’s forlorn expression.

  “I guess I forgot…but she likes me,” he said. They stopped talking when the girls returned.

  “Let’s ask the nurse at the counter if there a place to eat.”

  “Just the vending machine down the hall,” had been her response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  “Think you three can handle it? I’ll stay here and wait for Piper,” he said.

  “Sure,” they said in unison, taking the money and walking away.

  This was his fault somehow. Shane had been watching him. He stood there, more than a little stunned by Shane’s explanation. Some example you’ve been setting here, Joe.

  “Where are the kids?” Piper asked, coming up from behind him. He turned, taking in the bandage on her head and blood on her shirt. In a way, he was responsible for it.

  “What?” she said, looking at his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shane told me what happened. I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Let’s talk about it later,” she said, her eyes moving behind him as he heard the kids’ footsteps approaching.

  “Piper, are you okay?” Taylor said, walking over to wrap her arms around her sister in a hug. Kennedy followed suit while Shane stood back watching.

  “I don’t get a hug?” Piper asked him.

  “I almost killed you,” he said, fighting back tears.

  “Nope. See? Fine,” she said, holding her arms outstretched, smile in place.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I know, dude,” she said. “Give me a hug.” He went to her, hugging her tightly.

  * * *

  It was later that morning. Piper hadn’t made pancakes after all. She just sat at the table while Joe prepared omelets—his specialty, according to Shane. The kids seemed to be fine after a million questions over brunch and had just headed upstairs to play video games. Seems video games were the antidote to any troubles in the world. Joe was helping her put her dishes away. She stood near the counter, more watching him than working.

  Piper talked and laughed, recounting the events of this morning from her perspectiv
e, waking up finding the EMTs over her. She hadn’t known where she was at first, thought she had been in her dad’s boxing gym and gotten knocked out. She had experienced that one time when her mouth had surpassed her boxing proficiency and she’d challenged some guy to a bout. She had awakened to her dad’s concerned face standing over her, more embarrassed than hurt.

  “It took years off of my life, driving over here, worried, not knowing what I’d find,” he said, his smile turning serious. “I’m sorry. It seems that Shane was attempting to follow in his Uncle Joe’s footsteps, and not the ones worth following. He’d apparently seen me do something similar at home before with some of my female friends.”

  “I see,” she replied, laughing again. He stood there, watching her laugh at what could have been a serious injury.

  “What has Shane seen, exactly?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eye, wicked smile at her lips.

  “None of your business,” he said, turning around and removing the last of the dishes from the top portion of her dishwasher.

  “Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends, right?” she said, walking closer to him.

  “Nope. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” he said.

  “That bad, huh?” she said.

  “Not going to say either way,” he said. It was quiet as he looked through her cabinets, searching for what went where. She took a seat behind him.

  “Joe,” she said.

  “What?” he said absentmindedly as he searched through her cabinets. Was this where the plates belonged? Nope. Glasses. How many glasses does one woman need? he wondered, closing it and opening another. Okay, plates belonged here.

  “We’re friends, right?”

  “Last I checked, but maybe not since my nephew tried to kill you,” he said, laughing, starting to stack the plates into the cabinet.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “That can’t be good,” he said, and laughed again, this time dodging her foot.

  “Well, how about instead of having those…women over all the time, at your house in front of Shane, you could just have me,” she said, her words rushed now. “It could just be me, us, just like you asked for at the beginning,” she said, watching him slow down in his placement, going back to the dishwasher. “I could take care of those needs occasionally, and you take care of mine.”