Ms. Helen never mentions the civil suit, the trial, or the accident. I asked her once why she didn’t come to the trial and all she said was, “Why would I do that? It doesn’t change anything.”
— — —
I meet with my probation officer, an older grumpy woman with close-cropped hair. I can’t tell if she likes me or not, but it doesn’t matter because she seems to have outsourced my probation supervision to Ms. Ellen. She says I’ll need to meet with Ms. Ellen regularly and that she will set up my speaking engagements (plural!). I’m so wigged out to be sitting in the police station again, that I can’t protest, but there is no way I can stand up in an auditorium and talk to other teenagers about the accident. I want to explain to this nice woman in the wrinkled uniform with a slight mustache that it’s not like kids will listen. Everybody knows you shouldn’t text and drive, but they still do. How is my pathetic story going to convince other kids not to do it? I don’t say that; instead, I agree to whatever she says and let mom lead me out of the station.
When I was little, I always tried to be good. I thought if I was good enough, my parents might get back together, even though they fought all the time. Little kids are idealists. I remember sitting in the car while my parents fought outside the door—my mom’s face so red with anger and Dad puffed up, defying her. They were the same age I am now when they got pregnant with me, just kids. But I wanted them to be the mom and dad in the storybook. And when they couldn’t be that, I tried to be the daughter in the storybook. And now look. No one would think I’d be the kid who runs over the football coach because she’s texting. But I am. I may have banked a lot of goodness, but that didn’t exempt me from doing something monumentally awful. For the millionth time, I think, If only Coach Mitchell wasn’t at that particular spot in the road at that precise moment or if only I wasn’t.
If he hadn’t been there, I would have gotten to Sheila’s house where we would have squealed about Casey and figured out what to text back. And my life would be completely different. I’d still be popular and have friends. Sheila and Jason and Casey and I would have double-dated. I’d have been on the Homecoming Court. I’d have my letterman jacket.
My mom would still be the day manager at Morningside and Kevin would be doing whatever it was Kevin was doing before he horned his way into our lives.
Ms. Ellen would still be that sweet guidance counselor who spoke at the fall assembly and signed my college applications. So much would be different if Coach Mitchell hadn’t taken his dog for a walk at that precise moment or if I’d waited another ten minutes to take Sheila home. It’s like those choose-your-own-adventure books I read as a kid or the video games Dylan talks about where you enter different worlds depending on which door you open. One moment, one stupid decision you don’t think even matters. It becomes a hinge in your life, swinging you in a different direction only you don’t know it at the time and there’s no way to undo it.
— — —
The next day, Ms. Ellen asks, “Have you thought of what you might say in your presentation?”
“No,” I tell her.
“I know this won’t be easy, but it might help you reframe the accident. See if you can help another young person avoid this situation.”
“As if,” I say.
“Well, you’ve got to start somewhere. Let’s just start the conversation. What would you want them to know?”
I sigh, lean back on the couch, and throw one arm over my eyes. “Never drive a car. Never.”
Ms. Ellen ignores me as if I haven’t spoken. She won’t play along.
“Maybe start with the day of the accident. How it was like any other day. It was, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t remember much about that day.”
“Well, maybe you can talk about the impact it’s had on your life.”
“Oh, that will be tons of fun.”
She sighs. I hate that she cares so much. It’s just one more thing for me to feel bad about.
“I know I need to take this seriously, but I really don’t remember anything. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
She says nothing. She opens her planner and ignores me.
“The one thing I do remember about the accident is that horrible thump when I hit Coach Mitchell.”
She sets her pen down and looks at me. Her eyes are shiny, like maybe she’s the one who is going to cry this time.
I look away, focus on the stupid teddy bear holding an apple on the corner of the desk.
“I can hear that thump over and over and over. Hollow and solid, like when the football players hit those padded bars at practice. I can hear the screech of brakes and the crash of glass showering the pavement. And then an awful quiet. That’s it. That’s all I can remember, except the EMT guy telling me, “It will be okay,” which is what everyone kept saying. Only it will never be okay.
Now, I have no friends except my neighbor, a nerdy eighth-grader whose parents don’t let him watch TV. Everyone else hates me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. No way to fix it.”
“Oh Jess,” says Ms. Ellen.
I drop my arm and look at her, tears streaming down my face. How is it I keep coming back to this same place on this same sorry couch?
“You’re right. It won’t ever be okay that Coach Mitchell died. But I promise you someday you will feel okay.”
I want to believe Ms. Ellen more than anything else in the world. But the pain inside me feels permanent; anything good or happy seems temporary—band-aids that momentarily cover what is really wrong, which is me.
“I think no matter what I say or don’t say, it’ll never be ‘over.’ No one believes me. No one believes I wish it had never happened. No one knows how much I wish I was the one who died.” Ms. Ellen hands me tissue after tissue. When her phone buzzes she ignores it. When the secretary pokes her head in the door, she waves her away.
“I want to ask you a favor,” says Ms. Ellen. “I want you, just for today, to leave all this guilt and pain right here on the couch. I don’t want you to carry it out of the office. Tomorrow, if you need it, you can have it back, but for right now, I want you to leave it here. It’s too much for you to keep carrying. You need to put it down for a while. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Can you at least try?”
“Okay,” I tell her because I really want to leave this all here, more than anything.
“Why don’t you use the bathroom and freshen up? I’ll write a pass to get you back into class.”
When I walk into Latin class, I keep my head down. When I reach my seat behind Casey, he turns and whispers, “You okay?”
I nod and open my book.
The teacher holds me after class to go over what I missed, which saves me from having to speak to anyone, but Casey is waiting for me outside the door.
“You okay?” he asks again.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” I realize my voice is laced with hysteria. I take a deep breath and scan the ceiling, try to gain my composure. Then I say, “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I drop my Latin book in the locker and grab my Calculus book. “I’ve got to get to class.”
Casey follows me. “Jess?”
“What?” I ask without slowing down or looking back at him.
“Did I do something to piss you off?”
I snort. “This has nothing to do with you.”
Casey grabs my arm and stops me. His touch is like a branding iron. I stare at his hand on my arm, and he releases it.
“I’m late. I can’t miss any more classes,” I tell him.
“Can I drive you home after practice toda
y?”
“Fine,” I say and hurry to class.
— — —
Practice exorcises some of the emotions dredged up by Ms. Ellen. I want to do what she said. I want to leave all the pain in her office on that couch. But I don’t know how.
Casey is waiting when I walk out of the locker room.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say and follow him to his car. It seems to be the only place he wants to be seen with me. Which is fair. I get that.
“Sure,” he says.
When we get to the car, he unlocks my door and opens it. An awkward silence descends.
Finally, after we’ve gone a few blocks, he says, “Look, I know you’re still pretty messed up about the accident. I’d probably be, too. But does that mean we can’t be friends? I know there’s all this…” he takes his hand off the wheel and waves it around and then frowns and puts it back on the wheel. “I know everything is different now, but does that mean you never want to go out with me?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. He still wants to go out with me! I don’t know how to answer. I want to go out with Casey, but I can’t. Can I?
When we stop at a light, Casey turns to look at me.
“I like you. I thought maybe you liked me. The accident doesn’t change that, does it?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what to say. The light changes. Casey doesn’t say anything else until we pull up in front of my house. He turns off the engine. Neither of us moves.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay, you will go out with me?”
“Okay, we can be friends, but it feels weird.”
Casey looks at his phone where it lies on the seat between us. “Because I sent that text?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I can’t change that.”
“I know.”
“So maybe we have to just start over.”
“That would be good,” I tell him, wishing it was that easy.
“Casey Miller,” he says, holding out his hand.
I shake it. “Jess Johnson. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime,” he says, flashing his dimples at me. I jump out of the car before I say anything stupid. I wish starting over were that easy. I wish I could really leave all the memories and pain and regret on Ms. Ellen’s couch.
55
LIZ
After the trial, I go back to Morningside. In an ironic turn of events, I apply for Avery’s old job and she hires me. Aaron is apoplectic when he finds out.
“Yeah, he pretty much lost it when he heard,” Avery tells me when she catches me in the break-room. “But I reminded him it was my job to hire a qualified person, and that’s what I did. Although you are way over-qualified, and I feel kind of bad. You should have my job.”
“Nonsense. You’re doing a great job, and I don’t want it. I won’t have time for it if I go back to school.”
I have been spending hours on the community college website pouring over the possibilities trying to imagine a new future, despite the threat of a civil suit that hangs over us. I had assumed I would have Kevin in my life after Jess leaves for college. But now, I realize how stupid that was—how can I be thirty-five years old and still believe in a fairytale? I do not need a man to take care of me. I have taken care of me and Jess for years. And now that means imagining a new future for both of us. No matter what happens with this civil suit. I will make sure she goes to college, and I will figure out how to pay for it. Which means I need a job that pays real money, so I also need to go to college.
“How’s your dad?” Avery asks, knowing better than to bring up Kevin.
“Same. Kate is going to visit him for her spring break. She’s the family martyr.”
“Lucky you have one.”
“I know.” We are the only ones in the break-room, so she sits down and catches me up on the latest gossip. Aaron is dating one of the nurses, which should technically be against policy except she is not an employee of Morningside. The medical staff is contracted. Still, it has lots of people worked up. I forgot what a bubble exists at Morningside. Everything is a big deal even when it isn’t and everyone knows everyone else’s business.
I am happy to be back at Morningside, but it is not nearly as exciting as Kevin’s office. No more teary calls from angry wives or juggling visits from fighting spouses, just wheelchair scuffles, complaints about the soggy green beans, and a family member wondering why we don’t have HBO on the resident’s basic plan.
Kevin is still calling me nearly every day, and it has nothing to do with the civil suit. Each time I see his number my heart leaps, but then I remind myself. It is over. It has to be. I never accept his calls and his voicemails are piling up.
“Please, Liz, I’m losing my mind. I need to see you.”
“Please call me back. I’m so sorry. Can’t we talk about this?”
“I feel like I’m losing you before I ever had you and I know it’s been crazy but I know you miss me too. What we have is special. (long pause) I love you, Liz. You love me too. I know that. We can figure this out, can’t we?”
“You need to call the man back,” says Avery two days later when she catches me listening to his latest message on speaker. “You’re torturing the poor man.”
“What could I possibly have to say to him?”
“How about, ‘I realize you’re not perfect like I thought you were?’”
“I never said he was perfect.”
“Uh, huh.” She rolls her eyes and plops in one of the extra chairs in the office I share with the other aides near the Alzheimer’s wing. Avery says it is a great place to be—no one will remember anything you do wrong.
“I haven’t.”
“Not in as many words, but you’re holding him up to some crazy standard. Not everyone is as perfect as you.” Avery slurps the very end of her milkshake and sets the empty container on the corner of my desk and gets up.
“I’m not perfect,” I protest.
“Don’t I know it,” she laughs. “None of us are, including Kevin. Give the poor man a second chance. Besides, you love babies.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Then be prepared to be alone for the rest of your life, because making any relationship work depends on second chances. And sometimes third chances, too.”
I look at her and raise my eyebrows. She knows exactly what I am thinking. She has already given Vinny about two dozen chances.
“Don’t say it. Vinny and I are different. Kevin probably won’t need quite so many chances. He’s more evolved.”
“Avery,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“I know, I know, but I’m working up to it. Just cause I don’t take my advice, doesn’t mean I can’t give it.”
I think about her words that night and almost call Kevin. Instead, I call Kate and tell her about all the messages and what Avery said. “Do you think he deserves another chance? Is there any point in trying to salvage this? I don’t want to raise someone else’s baby and I still don’t understand what’s going on with him and Jill.”
“Never mind whether he deserves another chance, give him one anyway. Talk to him. You’re just being cruel by ignoring him. So, he’s having a baby with his ex-wife, it could be a lot worse.”
“How?”
“He could be in love with the woman, but he’s not. For some crazy reason, he’s in love with you.”
“How would I ever trust him again? What if being around the baby and Jill all the time makes him want to be with her again?”
“Just like being around baby Je
ssica all the time made you and Jake want to be together? Lizzie, forgiveness has never been your strong suit, but maybe it’s time to try it on. Give the man another chance.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried. This one’s easy. Maybe after that, you might work up to forgiving Dad or the whole friggin’ town of Jefferson. Call the poor man back.”
But I don’t call him. Instead, that Saturday I take my placement exams and do much better than I expected after almost eighteen years out of school. And the following week I apply for the nursing program at the community college. The admission counselor says that with my scores and my transcript, and my income, I will be eligible for financial aid. I hope it will be as easy when it is Jess’ turn.
One night, Jess observes my ringing cell phone on the counter while I am making a stir-fry for our dinner. She has a meet tomorrow, so I’m packing in plenty of protein.
“You know this is kind of high school.”
“What is?” I ask.
“You not answering his phone calls.”
Later I think about it and realize she is right, but more than that, I realize I miss Kevin. I want to tell him about school. I know he will be excited for me. When I told Avery, she said, “Why would you go to school? You’re already qualified to be a manager.” And when I told Jake, he said, “You’re crazy, why would you go back to that hell?” Jess seemed proud, though, even though it is only community college. With each hurdle passed, my fingers itched to dial Kevin. He would have wanted to celebrate.
Blind Turn Page 28