On the drive back to Oak Grove, I remained torn between lying to Paul or telling him the truth and begging his forgiveness. By the time I had showered, changed into the dress and sat waiting for him on the front-porch swing, I was still torn apart.
Paul pulled up and bounced out of his car, looking very dashing in a Navy blue suit. He had worn suits to work but I’d never before seen him wear one after work. If Brian had told me where he had seen me, Paul didn’t show it as he bound up the steps with an affectionate smile. He swept me off the swing and gave me a long, loving kiss. As we headed for Paul’s car, I felt so relieved that I hadn’t needed to worry about what Brian might have told him.
Paul had made a reservation on the Lakeside Restaurant’s terrace so that we would be dining at sunset. The setting was absolutely beautiful as an almost glowing sun spread shimmering flecks over the water. But unlike previous dinners when Paul talked nonstop about his life and his plans and dreams, he now seemed to be more reflective. The long pauses in the conversation made me uneasy.
“You’re quiet tonight,” I finally observed.
“My mother taught me not to talk with my mouth full,” Paul replied matter-of-factly and I became even more uneasy.
I tried to fill the vacuum with small talk but it didn’t help and finally Paul asked, “Where did you meet Brian?”
My heart sink. After all day of weighing lying to Paul versus admitting the truth, I was still on a very sharp fence. Tell the truth, Sherry, that is your only hope. I knew this. I did. So I was startled to hear myself say, “Buying cigarettes. I told you.”
“He lives in Sparta.”
“That’s where it was,” my voice said, now committed to the lie. “I went for a drive.”
“That’s all?”
“Of course. What did you think?” I hadn’t meant to ask that question, as I had dreaded the answer. But I had.
Paul looked closely at me for what seemed like forever as I sat speechless, motionless. Finally, I tried smiling as sweetly as I could. Then Paul smiled back and started to relax.
“Brian was kidding me about you being at Nick Rogers’ party last Sunday.”
“I don’t know a Nick Rogers,” I said quickly and then remembered that I had actually met him. For all I could remember, I knew Nick Rogers in more ways than one but that thought disgusted me so much that I pushed it out of my mind.
“You could go to all his parties and not know him. His place is a walkin.” Paul laughed and gave me a loving smile. “Forget about it,” he said. “Brian was just being stupid.”
Paul dropped his napkin by the table and knelt down to retrieve it. But he didn’t get up again.
“Everything okay?” I asked him.
Paul looked up. “It will be perfect, if you will take this.” He was holding a ring case.
I took the case and opened it to see a large, sparkling, gorgeous diamond ring.
“Will you marry me?” Paul asked.
I couldn’t believe it. I had feared that this would be the worst night of my life and instead it was turning out to be the best. “Yes. Oh, yes!” I exclaimed.
Paul swept me out of my seat and into his arms and gave me a long, wonderful kiss. The restaurant patrons broke into applause and a waiter approached us with a bottle of champagne.
For the next two hours, we drank champagne, dined and held each other’s hand. I must have showed off my dazzling ring to everyone in the restaurant at least twice.
We finally strolled outside, hand in hand with Paul stopping at every step to kiss me.
“Where else should we go to celebrate?” he asked.
The question surprised me. I thought that since we were now engaged, we would go back to his house and make love. But Paul had waited so long for that moment that he now seemed to willing to stretch it out further, to tantalize us both before we began making love for the rest of our lives. Although I could barely wait another minute, I understood.
“Anywhere you want,” I replied.
Paul smiled. “I know the perfect place.”
We drove into Sparta and headed in a direction that seemed vaguely familiar and then it became all too familiar as we finally pulled up outside of that party house, Nick Rogers’ house. Hoping I was mistaken, I glanced at the house with increasing apprehension. I wasn’t mistaken. The party tonight was quieter but a party nonetheless. I knew I had to get out of there. I had to get Paul out of there.
“It sounds too loud,” I said. “Why don’t we go to somewhere quiet? Just the two of us.” I kissed Paul and gave him a big smile, hoping that this would do it. It didn’t.
He smiled back. “We will. In a minute. I just want to show those clowns what a class act looks like. Brian deserves this.”
Paul got out of the car and opened my door. I couldn’t move. “You go,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”
Paul shook his head. “It wouldn’t be any fun without you. Come on.”
Paul was almost pulling me out of the car when I saw the guy they called Tex walking across the porch with a brunette. I knew I couldn’t go near him. I was horrified by the thought. I shuddered backward into the seat, frozen. “I can’t,” I said. “I can’t.”
Paul looked puzzled. “What? Why?”
“I just can’t.”
Suddenly, Paul looked warily at me, accusingly. “Have you been here before?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I really didn’t. The person who had walked into that house wasn’t me.
Paul was trying not to believe what he was realizing was true. “Sherry, either you have or you haven’t,” he said brusquely.
“Can’t we just go, please?”
He stared at me with accusing eyes. “We’re going, all right,” he snapped and slammed my door shut.
All the way back to Oak Grove, I fought back tears as I tried to talk to Paul. I wanted so badly to tell him that I would never do anything like that again but I couldn’t think of the right words, and Paul wasn’t really listening to anything I was saying anyway. He had turned into some other Paul that I had never seen before. This wonderfully, sweet guy was now enraged at me and seemingly every female he had ever met.
“You women are all the same,” he shouted. “You act sweet and innocent with me and then go fuck the first guy you see.” He turned to me. “Am I the only guy in this county who hasn’t had you? Am I? Answer me?”
“It’s not want you think,” I protested.
“That’s for damn sure,” he retorted as the car screeched to a stop outside Arlene’s house. He turned to me again. “Answer me! Did you screw a bunch of guys at Rogers’?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. I really didn’t. I didn’t know anything anymore.
“That’s bullshit!” he snapped.
I couldn’t stand the thought of losing Paul and never again enjoying our wonderful times together. “All I know is that I really care for you,” I said. “Come with me to New York, right now. Just the two of us.”
“So you can sleep around in a big city and I won’t find out?” He glowered at me.
“No!” I didn’t want that. I only wanted to be with Paul. “I—”
But before I could speak, Paul cut me off. Reaching over to open my door, he looked away. “Get out!”
“Paul, please,” I pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’m not like that.”
“Get out of my life!” He yelled so loudly that he scared me.
I finally broke down in tears. “Paul, please,” I pleaded again.
“Out.”
He refused to look at me. Instead he just glared out the front window into the dark night.
Slowly, I got out of the car. Before I could even close the door, the car squealed away from the curb and the violent motion slammed the door shut.
I ran into Arlene’s house, up the stairs and once again, blinded by tears, began jamming my clothes into my suitcase. I hated myself for running away but I knew that no matter what I said to Paul, it wouldn’t do any good. You blew it, Sherry. Just get
to New York. Through my tears, I saw the picture of Paul with the big fish and whispered to it, “I’m sorry, Paul. I truly am.”
When my suitcase was again stuffed full, I slammed it shut and ran down the stairs, tripping and almost falling but I managed to stay upright. I couldn’t stay in that house one more second. Arlene was in her living room, watching a TV show. I didn’t bother to say, goodbye. As I ran out the door, I heard her parting shot. “Goodbye and good riddance.”
Lost in tears, I headed out of Oak Grove. The Interstate was on the other side of Sparta but I could never again go into that town. I yanked the wheel onto a small road hoping to bypass it. The road was narrow and winding. Driving too fast, especially with eyes filled with tears that blurred my vision, I swerved all over the road. I nearly hit the ditch on a couple of sharp curves but I didn’t slow down. I had to get out of there. I felt like I couldn’t breathe until I got to the Interstate.
Then I felt rugged bumps and I blinked away the tears to see the car skidding off the road and heading for a towering tree. I jerked the steering wheel but I was too late as the car slid sideways toward the tree trunk. I hadn’t bothered to put on a seat belt so I tried to clutch the steering wheel as I braced for the crash.
The car slammed into the tree and my head slammed into the windshield. I remember hearing a loud crack and I didn’t know if it was the windshield or my skull. Excruciating pain shot through my body.
Then I went numb and my whole life flashed before me, every sorry detail of my sad existence. It seemed to take a long time but I had read somewhere that right before you die, you recount your whole life in an instant. I was going to die. As my life got up to that second when I was smashing into the tree, I remember thinking that my dying would make both myself and the world the better for it. I felt relieved that my horrible life was finally over. Then I died.
I noticed that everything seemed bright and white. I decided that I had been wrong about there being no God, which surprised me, and that I had actually made it to heaven, which surprised me even more. Then I felt this throbbing ache in the side of my head and realized that I had instead probably lived and was in some very bright room. But my vision was beyond blurry and I heard a small voice call out. “She’s coming to.”
I blinked and my eyesight became slightly clearer. Bandages on my head had slid down over my eyes. I was indeed a room with very white walls and what seemed like bright white sunshine streaming in through a window.
For a few seconds I was alone and then a crush of people surrounded me, led by a young man wearing green medical garb, a stethoscope around his neck and a badge hanging from his breast pocket which I couldn’t yet see well enough to read.
He gave me a bright smile and said, “Welcome back, I’m Dr. Lawrence. How do you feel?”
“Like I smashed into a tree.”
He laughed gently, and asked, “Can you tell me your name?”
My head throbbed with pain. But there was no denying that I was alive. “Sherry Johnson.”
“Very good,” he replied, still smiling. “You gave us quite a scare.”
He then began several tests to see how I responded and I guess I passed, as he told me that I would be fine. I just had to stay there for a few more days. After he left, I was given a tasteless meal of some kind of soup and mush by a nurse’s aide whose badge I could almost read, Anita Something. Anita told me that I was in Sparta Memorial Hospital, that I had been in a coma for six days and that I had endured a serious concussion and had several bruises but that I hadn’t broken any bones.
I managed to get her to give me her compact mirror so I could survey the damage. I was shocked. I was so puffed up I looked like the dough boy with a couple of nifty black and blue blotches on the right side of my face. I wasn’t all that comforted to learn that I had apparently looked much worse when I had arrived.
Anita informed me that they had found Paul’s card in my purse and had notified him and that he had basically sat outside my room since I had arrived but as soon as I came to, he had quickly left and hadn’t returned. Anita said that a psychologist who worked for the county had spoken to Paul that she also wanted to speak to me.
Suddenly, I looked down at my finger. The engagement ring was gone.
“They take all of your jewelry off, when you come in,” Anita assured me, “for safekeeping.”
“Could you see that the ring is given to Paul? I can’t face him.”
Anita nodded.
“Why does the psychologist want to speak to me?”
Anita didn’t answer me and said that she had to get back to her rounds, which surprised me, since she hadn’t seemed in any hurry before. I thought I might be liable for speeding or reckless driving, or maybe even driving while intoxicated. But I would have thought that the police would want to talk to me about that. I decided I was too dazed to try to figure anything out and would find out soon enough.
The next morning, a thin brunette in her mid-Thirties strolled into my room with a cheerful greeting. “Hi, Sheryl,” she said, as if we were old friends, even though no friend had ever called me Sheryl.
“Hi,” I replied, like I’d never met her in my life.
“I’m Helen Hall. I’m a psychologist with Social Services.” She informed me that the hospital had contacted my aunt and uncle.
“What did they say?” I asked.
Helen looked nervous but then replied cheerfully, “We can talk about that later.”
“Or,” I said, with false cheerfulness, “we can talk about it now.” I knew that neither my aunt nor uncle would be rushing here to sit by their poor niece in a coma. I wanted to get that out of the way right away.
Helen hesitated and then rustled through her clipboard papers to find the right notation. After a pause, she replied, “Your Aunt said, ‘I knew she would end up like this. Let me know if she dies.’ Then she hung up.”
I nodded. That sounded about right.
Helen Hall said that she understood that Paul and I had gotten engaged and then broke up, all on the night of the accident. I nodded. She mentioned that she had spoken to Paul and had asked him to join us in counseling sessions but that he had refused.
“Counseling? What for? The lovelorn?”
She ignored my sarcasm. “It’s the law,” she said, with the cheerfulness now gone from her voice. Matter-of-factly, she added, “All accident victims have to undergo counseling, if there is reason to believe that they might have been trying to commit vehicular suicide.”
I stared at her. If she was going to ask me if I had been trying end my life, I would have had to say that I didn’t really know. I didn’t consciously aim my car at a tree. But maybe that was mostly because I was just too messed up to have thought of it. If I had, I just might have done it. But Helen didn’t ask me if I had been trying to end my life, and I didn’t offer an opinion.
Two days later, Anita asked me if I would like Paul to visit.
“He asked you that?” I wondered.
She shook her head. “He asked at the desk if you could have visitors and they said yes. He said he might stop back tomorrow.”
I panicked.
“You can ask that he not visit, if you want,” Anita assured me.
No! I suddenly wanted desperately to see Paul, to somehow tell him all the things that I had wanted to say the night of the accident, and to somehow believe that there could still be some hope for us. My panic was because I didn’t want him to see me like this.
“He already has,” Anita informed me. “From the first day that you came in.”
That didn’t matter now. If Paul was going to visit me, I wanted to look somewhat presentable. It might be my only chance to get him back.
The next morning before breakfast, I had Anita in my room putting on my makeup. The hospital grapevine apparently worked at warp speed and everyone seemed to know that the ex-fiancé was coming for a visit. I was getting so nervous that my head began to throb. I didn’t care. This might be my only chance and I didn’
t want anything to go wrong.
Finally, after I had my makeup reapplied for the third time and my hair combed for the second time, Paul arrived. I put on as much of a smile as I could muster despite the pain shooting through my face.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied.
He didn’t kiss me or shake my hand but he did carry a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he set on my nightstand. “I’m glad to see you are all right,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Paul looked nervous and then said, “I kind of felt like this was my fault.”
“It wasn’t,” I assured him. “I was mine.”
There was a long moment of awkward silence. All of the things that I had wanted to say to Paul to try to get him back now seemed so out of place. The Paul I had known and loved, the sweet, wonderful, giving Paul was gone and in his place was this nice but distant man who seemed to be making a social call because it was the polite thing to do. I had the distinct feeling that when he walked out of the hospital I would never see him again.
“Well,” he said, nervously. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I was right. I knew I would never see him again, and I got scared. “A psychologist wants to talk to me,” I said.
Paul nodded. “I spoke to her.”
“Would you go with me?” I asked.
Paul shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
He got up, about to leave. I tried to think of something, anything, that might make him want to stay. I blurted out, “They took your ring.” That was definitely not what I had wanted to say. I added, “I asked them to give it to you.”
Paul nodded. “I know. They did.”
My mind raced, trying to find some version of the right words. Say anything, I thought. Just don’t let him leave. Or it will be forever. I considered telling Paul that the near-fatal crash had been a life-changing experience for me, that it had somehow turned me into the girl that he thought I was before he had learned the truth. In a way, it was true. During the long hours that I had lain there, I realized that I had to change something. I couldn’t keep spinning around in this vicious circle. I knew that the next time, I would surely kill myself, one way or another. Maybe I really was suicidal. I certainly had spent about most of my life wishing I were dead, so it probably wouldn’t take too much to turn that into a self-fulfilling prophesy.
Falling in Love Page 5