by Hart, Rebel
“You’re way too good for my dad.”
She giggled. “Maybe so. But he does have a softer side.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he does.”
“I know that sounds cliché and trite, but he does. At least, he did. I see it sometimes when we’re on vacation.”
“Well, tell him to send some of that softness my way. I could use some of it.”
We stared at one another and my eyes lingered on her face. Her hazel eyes stared back at me from a full face of makeup that seemed almost luminescent. She didn’t have a wrinkle on her face, courtesy of the botox I was sure Dad pumped into her skin. Her fake breasts were sky high, propped underneath her chin without any sort of effort. Her hair was pulled back in a modest fashion. Probably a habit she hadn’t broken from her childhood. And as I lay there, studying her, I realized something.
She reminded me a bit of Mom.
Guess Dad has a type.
“Do you need anything?”
Cecilia’s voice filled my mind and I shook my head.
“Nah. I’m good for now. Though I’d really like to see—”
A knock on the door interrupted my sentence, and I hoped it was Rae. Cecilia slid off the edge of the bed, whipping around to see who it was. I knew she wanted it to be Dad. While I wished it to be Rae. But instead, we were both disappointed as a man in a white coat came strolling in the door with a clipboard underneath his armpit.
My heart sank as he walked toward us. And I had a feeling Cecilia’s heart was doing the same thing.
“Hey, Doc,” I said.
Cecilia sat back down, quickly falling into ‘her place.’ She got out of the way of the man, making herself as small as possible as the doctor came to stand at my side. He silently checked my tubing. My I.V. My morphine drip. A few other things, before finally standing upright. I saw his eyes lingering on Cecilia for just a few seconds longer than was appropriate. Then he turned his attention back to me.
“All right. Since you’ve had an evening to rest and recuperate out of surgery, I think it’s time we discuss what you’re looking at in terms of your recovery.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. How long do you think I’ll be in the hospital?”
The doctor peeked back at Cecilia before answering. “Three days, at least. But the nurses have examined you all through the night and you seem very stable. If today goes well and we don’t run into any issues, you’ll be transferred out of ICU and into a regular room.”
Cecilia sighed. “Thank the Lord.”
“But your recovery is going to be daunting. You’ll be on pain medication for a while. And there are police officers who are clamoring out here to speak with you once you’re able to recall your side of events from last night.”
I nodded. “You can send them in once we’re done talking.”
The doctor paused. “Do you want to wait for your father?”
Cecilia stood up before coming to my side. She found her voice as she reached for my hand, cradling it within hers. She looked that doctor straight in his eyes, even though I felt her hand trembling with nerves. Finding her place beside me when Dad should have been there himself.
“I’m here, and whatever you tell me I can relay to my husband,” she said.
And damn it, I was proud of her for finding her voice.
7
Raelynn
After I got sick on the side of the road, Michael made the executive decision to keep driving around. And I was thankful for it, because I couldn't go into my house like that. I’d still been too shaken up to deal with being alone. For all I knew, I’d walk right in on Mom and D.J. in the living room, and I’d erupt. Just completely unload all the stress and anxiety and worry on my shoulders off onto them. And they didn’t deserve that.
I mean, D.J. did. But not Mom.
We drove around and Michael made me eat my food. Despite the fact that I was convinced it might make me sicker, he convinced me otherwise. And again, he’d been right. The saltiness of the fries settled my nausea, and eating the chicken wrap leveled out my blood sugar. For the most part, my trembling stopped. The shaking in my hands ceased. Some of the nausea in my stomach abated, giving me a bit of rest.
Then Michael drove me out to that park.
We sat there on the bench where Clint and I had sat a few weeks back. A few weeks. Holy shit, it felt like a few months. A few years. I ran my fingers through my hair and kept sighing. I gazed off at that bright star between the trees, wondering if Clint was all right. And the entire time, Michael stayed by my side. Even though Allison bombarded him with phone calls. Even though she begged him to tell her what was happening. He didn’t tell her, and he didn’t leave my side.
Which pushed even more tears down my face.
I cried on Michael’s shoulder as we sat in that park. I ranted his ear off as I paced around in front of him. I regaled him with how Clint had found me out here. How much I wanted to shove his face into the dirt before he opened up randomly about his home life. Prompting me to talk about mine. I kept telling him story after story. How we made it back to Clint’s house. What happened. How he made me feel. I spilled it all out to Michael and he listened while nodding his head, drinking it all in.
And not once did he criticize me for it.
As the remnants of the sun began blossoming over the tops of the trees, Michael finally took me home. I was shocked when I didn’t see D.J.’s car in the driveway. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, at all. Nothing except Clint’s health and happiness. His healing and what he’d have to do for his recovery time.
“See you at school?”
Michael’s voice pulled me from my trance, but I shook my head.
“Not if I can help it.”
I gathered up my garbage and slid out of his car. I closed the door behind me, listening as he backed out of my driveway. I’d have to find a way to thank him later. But not now. Right now, I couldn't focus on anything else. Especially after I threw my trash away in the trash can out front.
Because the second my hands came into view, I saw I still had Clint’s blood on me.
“Shit.”
I unlocked the front door and pushed my way inside. I closed it behind me, leaning my forehead against it. A sound pacing down the hallway made me jump. The footsteps grew closer, then they grew frantic. I whipped around, watching my mother rush me. Watching her robe flutter behind her with her hair wild and maniacal around the crown of her head.
Then her eyes fell to my clothes.
“What the—? Rae, where the hell have you been? Are you all right? What are you—is this your blood!?”
She ran toward me, her slippers sliding across the floor as she took my hands within hers. She tugged me into the kitchen, murmuring to herself in Spanish as she sat me down at the kitchen table. Her hands ran over me, checking for wounds or gashes. Anything to explain the blood I’d completely forgotten I was covered in.
“It’s not mine,” I whispered.
Mom paused. “Then whose is it? Where have you been? I’ve been up all night, worried sick about you.”
I nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”
She pulled up a chair. “Rae, look at me.”
I slowly turned my head to find her eyes, but I didn’t try holding back my tears. Mom wiped them off my face, brushing away more crusted blood as she grimaced to herself.
“Talk to me, princess. What’s going on?”
My lower lip quivered. “He’s so hurt, Mom. He’s in the hospital, and I can’t know anything.”
“Who’s hurt? Michael?”
“No.”
“Allison?”
I shook my head. “Clint.”
She paused. “That the boy from school you talked to me about?”
I nodded. “We—it—happened so fast, Mom.”
“Are you hurt, Raelynn?”
“I wish I was, instead of him.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She wrapped her arms around me and I sobbed against her. I
heard myself wailing. I felt my chest heaving. It was almost like an out of body experience. My heart fluttered so wildly I thought I’d burst out from my chest and take off toward the rising sun. My legs locked up, shaking and trembling as my stomach slammed against my ribcage. It felt like my entire body was rebelling. Fighting back after years of being caged.
I shook against Mom, soaking her robe with tears as she stroked my back.
“I’m right here. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“They ran him off the road, Mom. They wanted to kill him.”
“Who did, sweetheart? Who wanted to kill him?”
“Those dumbass drunk boys!”
I shrieked it so loudly that Mom clung to me tighter. She stood up, pulling me against her as she slowly moved us from the kitchen to the living room. We fell to the couch and she pulled me into her lap, cradling me the way she used to do when I was a small girl.
She kissed the side of my head. “Tell me what happened.”
I shook my head. “I can’t—can’t—can’t ta—”
“Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh. It’s okay. Deep breaths for me, princess. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Okay? Like this?”
I tried to do as Mom asked, but my breathing was choppy. Weak. I couldn't breathe out as much as she was and I had a hard time drawing in air. But she worked me through it. She counted softly in my ear as I sank against her. Sank into the warmth and comfort I’d always remembered about my mother. My tears slowly dried and my body quietly calmed down. And after a few minutes, my breathing evened out.
“There’s a good girl. That’s my princess. I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
I sniffled. “Clint came to hang out with me after work last night. He wanted to hang out before bringing me home on his bike.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a good enough plan. What happened?”
I sighed. “Four boys drove up to us in some car. It was obvious they were drunk, too. A couple of the guys Clint knew from a fight that happened at school a couple days back or so. I don’t know. I can’t really remember the timeline anymore.”
“It’s okay. You can talk about whatever you want.”
“It all happened so fast. It’s such a blur. I just—they kept saying things to me. Looking at me. Licking their lips at me. Clint got them angry with him so they’d leave me alone. He told me to run, and I did. I hopped the fence to the elementary school playground and he took off on his bike.”
“My God, princess.”
“Next thing I know, I’m calling Michael to come get me. Calling 9-1-1 and telling them they have to get out there. We’re driving up and down roads with tires squealing in the distance. And then we come upon Clint’s bike.”
I felt my voice catching in my throat as Mom tucked my head into the crook of her neck.
“Where was his bike?”
My chest jumped. “Crushed into the metal railing of a bridge. Momma, he fell into the river. Twenty feet, down onto the bank. It was terrible, Mom. He looked absolutely mangled. He stopped breathing. There was water. Michael kept screaming at me. There were sirens and I kept calling out his name, trying to get him to wake up. I just couldn't leave him down there like that, Mom. I couldn't let him be alone. Please don’t be mad at me. Please.”
“I could never be mad at you. Ever. I’m just so thankful you’re okay.”
“Please don’t be mad. Please. Please, Mom. Please.”
I cried into her, wrapping my arms around her neck. I clung to her tighter than I could ever remember, and she rocked me side to side. I heard her singing a song in my ear. A Spanish lullaby she’d always sung to me as a little girl. It calmed my soul and soothed my fears, quieting down my tears.
Then a knock came at the door.
“Raelynn Cleaver?”
The man’s voice stunned both my mother and myself. Until it dawned on me.
The police.
The knock came again and Mom stood up with me. I slid to her side, walking with her toward the door as she cracked it open. I peeked around the corner with my tear-stained cheeks, studying the two officers standing on our porch.
Wow, Michael really wasn't joking.
“Can I help you?” Mom asked.
They brandished their badges. “I’m Officer Talbot. This here is Officer Williams. We need to speak with your daughter about an incident last night. A motorcycle wreck, supposedly involving a car full of boys?”
I piped up. “Not supposedly.”
Mom held her hand up, signaling for me to be quiet.
“You are more than welcome to come inside and sit. I can make us some coffee. But before you speak with my daughter, she’s going to get herself a hot shower.”
The officer sighed. “Ma’am, I’m afraid this is urgent.”
Mom stood her ground. “Well, so is her shower. She’s covered in blood and still shaking from trauma. You can take it, or you can leave it. But if you take it, it comes with coffee, courtesy of me.”
She held the door open, waiting for the officers to choose.
“Either way, I’m going to go run my daughter a hot shower before placing a call to her school. She’s in no condition to go to classes today. Give us thirty minutes, and we’ll be with you. Or find another time. I’m good either way.”
And as my mother stood there, stronger than I’d ever seen her, I leaned my forehead against her shoulder. I kissed her robe, hoping she felt it through her clothing. Her hand came up, running through my hair as the officers murmured between themselves.
“All right, ma’am. We’d enjoy the cup of coffee.”
Mom smiled. “Great. Let me get my daughter in a shower, then I’ll brew a pot while placing that quick phone call.”
8
Clinton
“I already pushed back the trip, Cecilia. Just what exactly do you expect me to do about it?”
“I expect you to cancel it, Howard. Because your son is going to need you in the coming weeks.”
I felt myself waking up, but I didn’t open my eyes. The second I heard their voices, I stayed silent. I kept my breathing even. I wanted to listen in on their conversation. On what they were arguing about. And as their hushed whispers grew to faint growls, I wondered if my father would ever give a shit about me.
“I’m not canceling anything, Cecilia. This meeting is too important.”
She scoffed. “Then do it via video conference. From your laptop, or your home office. My God, Howard, you’ve got one but you never use it.”
“Because I have to be there in person. I’m the owner of the damn thing. I can’t just not show up to a meeting everyone is expecting me to be at.”
“Well, when you tell them your only child has gotten himself into a life-threatening accident. I’m sure they’ll change their tune.”
He snickered. “CeCe, we don’t know the details of that crash. The police are still trying to sniff things out. For all we know, this was Clinton’s fault!”
“And why does that matter?” she hissed.
“It matters because if he put himself in this situation, he can get himself out of it. It one hundred percent matters, if you knew anything about raising a boy like him!”
“So you think that even if he did cause this accident, he wouldn't need his father? Howard, he’s staring down the barrel of weeks of physical therapy. Weeks of strenuous activity before he’s walking normal and riding his bike and moving without assistance. He needs you at home. He’s a boy, Howard.”
“He’s my boy, and don’t you forget it. I know what I need to do in order to parent my son, Cecilia. You, of all people, don’t need to educate me on that.”
“Then step up and be the father he needs.”
I waited for it. I braced for the cracking sound of his hand against her face. I mean, I knew it was coming. It would have been coming had I said something like that to him. Cecilia was brave. Braver than I could have ever been. I was proud of her for standing up for what she believed. And honored that s
he was standing up for me.
But I heard the door of my hospital room whip open, stalling out the moment in its tracks.
“Take it outside, if you have to fight. Clint needs his rest, and I won’t have you two ruining it with your bickering. Understand?”
The doctor’s voice was curt. Pierced. And I would have given anything to see my father’s face. The argument halted in its tracks before Cecilia apologized. But all I heard from my father was the lumbering of footsteps, murmuring and stumbling. Cursing. I heard the clicking of Cecilia’s heels as they left the room.
“Howard. Get back here!”
I let my eyes fall open as I stared at the ceiling. The doctor walked around me, checking vitals and shining that godforsaken light in my eyes. I wanted to rip that damn flashlight out of his hand and bash him over the head with it. Or shove it up his ass. One of the two.
“The talk with the police wear you out?”
I shrugged. “Got it over with.”
“Sometimes that’s the best course of action.”
“What day is it?”
He chuckled. “Still Friday. Just after lunch. Almost two, I think? Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll get the nurse to run down to the kitchen. The lunch trays have already gone by, but I’m sure she can pick you up something that is suitable for your current diet.”
I sighed. “Ah, yes. The boring, no fun foods diet.”
He snickered. “I’ve been on that diet before. It’s more or less so nothing interacts with the medications you’re on. Like food dyes and such.”
“Just don’t have anyone attempt to mix up white rice and a banana again. I don’t know who decided that was a good thing, but it isn’t.”
The doctor took a few notes, then pressed my morphine button. I was on my last pump of it. After today, no more morphine. I wasn’t sure how I’d take that. How my body would react to it. Or what kind of pain I’d be in. But any step down was a step closer to home. And a step closer to Rae.