Blind Turn

by Cara Sue Achterberg

  — — —

  At Regionals, I’m still distracted by my upcoming speech. I still don’t know what I will say on Thursday. I run my 800 in a daze and finish fourth. I push the thoughts out of my head for the relay and help our team finish first, breaking a track record.

  My last shot is the 1600. I set my feet for the start. I lift my hips at the ready call and push off at the starter’s pistol. A moment later we’re called back. False start. One kid from Central jumped the gun. Now we have to start again. Another chance. This time we get a clean start and soon I’m running near the middle of the pack. At the quarter-mile, I’m third, tucked behind the two frontrunners but close enough to take them when it’s time. Out of nowhere, a memory forms. I’m in the car again with Sheila. She’s laughing and holding my phone. I shoo the memory away and concentrate on my hips, pushing my legs to reach further.

  The next quarter flies by, and my lungs burn. Can I keep this up? I pump my arms hard; I’m almost to the other girls. We make the turn, and we are running directly into the setting sun. It’s blinding. Suddenly I’m back in that car again. The light glares brilliant, the morning sun glitters off Sheila’s earrings. Beside me she laughs, singing and teasing. I see my phone. And then a door in my mind opens. The memory is so clear, I almost stop. I remember it all.

  A runner zips past me, and I chase after her. At the start of the last lap, I ignore the pain in my legs and lungs. I ignore the memories pouring into my mind. I pass the struggling second-place runner and catch the front-runner. I have to outrun her, outrun the memory that is chasing me. We run next to each other, stride for stride as we head for the last turn.

  Images fill my mind. Ms. Helen’s weathered face. I can’t help but think some of Robert’s goodness is in you now. Sheila laughing. When I round the turn, Coach Mitchell is waving at me, urging me on. I glance at the stands as we pass them. Mom is there. She has her hands over her mouth. Dad is jumping up and down with his fist in the air. Casey runs along the railing in the bleachers. He’s screaming, but I can’t hear him. All I can hear is my heart pounding…… because I remember.

  61

  LIZ

  It is almost midnight when I dial Kevin. I can’t sleep. Tomorrow Jess will have to stand in front of an entire auditorium and talk about the accident. I don’t know what she will say or if she knows what she will say. She went to bed at 8:30 so she would be rested. I have spent the entire evening pacing and drinking red wine. Almost an entire bottle.

  When Kevin answers, I say, “I need you.”

  Ten minutes later he is at my door. As soon as I see his face, the tears come. He holds me and listens as I talk through all my fears. Not just for Jess and the judgment of her peers, the pressure to right a wrong somehow with words, but for me and this future I want. “What if I fail? I haven’t been to school in so long.”

  “You won’t fail,” he says.

  “What if Jessica doesn’t get a scholarship? I’ll have to put off school so I can work more, get another job. I think I want this, but maybe I don’t. Maybe I am just trying to prove something. Months ago, Jessica wanted to move from Jefferson. Maybe she was right. Maybe the only way we get a fresh start is somewhere else.”

  “Do you want to move?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I just want my daughter to be happy. I’m so tired of worrying about her and my job and my father and Jake and what this stupid town thinks and…”

  “And me?” he asks.

  “And you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m here. I will always be here.”

  He leads me to the bedroom and I tell him I’m not ready for that, but he shushes me, pulls back the covers, and tucks me in like a little child. Then he kisses my forehead and says he will see me in the morning.

  — — —

  Jess and I drive the thirty minutes to the school in silence. Ellen Schultzman meets us at the door and takes Jess backstage. The principal walks me to the auditorium. I stand in the empty hall, watching a custodian sweep the stage. Kevin shows up. He squeezes my hand, and we find a seat near the back while the students file in. It feels so right to have him here. In moments the hall is noisy, hot, packed.

  Ellen peeks out from the side of the stage, she finds me in the crowd and nods. Thank God for that woman. The principal quiets the students and warns them about being respectful of the speaker. Then he introduces Jess. He says she is a student from Jefferson High School who has a very important message for them. There is a smattering of hesitant applause.

  Ellen holds the curtain back for Jess, who moves towards the podium stiffly, eyes fixed on the microphone. She doesn’t look at the crowd, but I do. A lot of kids are whispering or checking their phones. This is any other moment for them.

  Kevin squeezes my hand, nods towards the exit door, where Jake has just appeared. That is when I notice Casey standing almost behind us. I did not see him come in. Jake nods at me and takes a spot next to Casey. I wonder if he has met Casey, wonder if Jess knew Casey was coming. She didn’t tell me.

  The spotlight is on Jess. She swallows and adjusts the microphone, clears her throat, and lays her notecards carefully on the podium, rearranging them several times. The noise in the auditorium grows and the principal steps back out on the stage and waves at the kids to keep it down. He nods at Jess and retreats.

  Finally, she begins.

  “My name is Jessica Johnson. I’m here today because…” she stops and squints at her note cards. Then she looks up, fear grips her face. She glances towards Ellen off stage then back at her notes. I hear a few kids giggle and others shush them.

  Jess looks up at the audience; the silence is paralyzing. I will her to speak, to say something. Finally, she says, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.” She looks back down at her notes. Takes a breath. “Seven months ago I was in an accident. A man named Robert Mitchell died.”

  I look around the room, gauge the reaction. Mouths stop whispering and heads turn at her words. Every eye is on Jess.

  “It was my fault. And there is no way to apologize or make it right, so what I hope is, that by telling you about it, you will be different.”

  She looks up, pauses, and says, “I also hope that I will be different.”

  Jess looks in my direction. I don’t know if she can see me, but I smile, nod, try not to look as terrified as I feel.

  “She’s doing great,” whispers Kevin.

  Now she sets her shoulders and leans forward and seems to find her voice. “My life changed on Sunday, October 4. Before that day, I was just doing whatever, hanging with my friends, going to school, not taking any of it seriously. Not thinking anything I did really mattered to anyone but me. Now I know different.”

  She looks back at her notes.

  “Until just a few days ago, I couldn’t remember the accident no matter how hard I tried. Everyone said it was because I hit my head on the windshield, but I think I didn’t want to remember. I was afraid to. I didn’t want any of it to be my fault.”

  “On that Sunday, just before we got in the car, my friend Sheila told me a guy I’d had a crush on for years was going to ask me out. I was excited about it—happy.”

  Now she blushes and glances towards Casey. Of course, she knows he is here. Lately, they are always together. I have been almost jealous, and also grateful, for the way she confides in him. I look back at him; his eyes are fixed on Jess.

  “For a long time, I didn’t remember much else about that day. Just getting in the car and then waking up in the hospital. Which made it easier to believe that it wasn’t my fault, even though I was driving, so it had to be. But two days ago, it came back to me—everything that happened in my car on that day.”

 
“On the way to Sheila’s house, I got a text. Sheila knew I wouldn’t look at a text while driving. I’m kind of militant about that ever since my mom almost wrecked our car looking at her phone.” She pauses. There are a few whispers.

  “I told Sheila not to read it, that I would wait until we got there, but she grabbed my phone and read the text.”

  I can see the tears welling in her eyes, she blinks them away.

  “I asked her what it said. She said, ‘Read for yourself’ and handed me the phone. And then she put her hand on the wheel to steer. It was a road we’ve both driven a million times. I remember looking back at the road. There was nothing there. Just the glare of the sun and the empty road. What was the harm? Sheila had the wheel. So I looked at the text.”

  I am stunned. Jess has told me none of this. I had no idea she remembered what happened.

  Her voice cracks as she says, “I just thought…” She pauses, searching for words. She shakes her head but continues. “I never thought there would be anyone there.” She wipes at her tears, swallows. Her tears bring mine. “Sheila was laughing, watching me, not the road and when I looked up, I saw Coach Mitchell, but it was too late.”

  There are a few gasps. Jess continues, her voice choked with tears.

  “I can’t stop hearing the car hitting him. It made this awful thud. I hear it in my dreams. I can’t stop hearing it.”

  The auditorium has grown silent. No one whispers or checks their phones.

  “I wanted to blame Sheila, to think this was her fault. But it wasn’t. I was driving the car. I decided to look away. And because of that one moment, I’ve hurt so many people I love and so many people who I don’t even know.” She pauses, unable to speak for the tears, and then whispers into the microphone, “I’m sorry.”

  She looks up at the audience. They are rapt. “I wish you could have known Coach Mitchell.” She smiles through her tears.

  “I’ve gotten to know his wife, Ms. Helen. She has told me so many stories about Coach Mitchell. I knew what everyone else knew—he was a brilliant coach who led our football team to win states six times. I think we beat you guys a couple of times.” There is cautious laughter and Jess smiles.

  “Coach Mitchell believed in people, even when they made mistakes.” As Jess says these words, I am transported back to Coach Mitchell’s office and Jake nervously explaining that I’m pregnant, that I wanted to have an abortion, but we don’t have the money. Jake never wanted the abortion, but I knew my family would never accept a baby. And I needed to get out of Jefferson, almost as bad as Jess thinks she does. Adoption was not an option. I knew if I had that baby, I would keep it and if I kept it, there would be no college. No getting out of Jefferson.

  Instead of Jess, I hear Coach now. “The two of you created a life. That life is your responsibility and every decision you make must be in the best interest of that life. It is not just about you anymore; now there is someone more important.” He paused to let those words become real. And then, almost as an afterthought, but quite possibly the largest truth of my life, he said, “I’ll tell you this, no matter what you decide, your lives will never be the same.”

  Jess is still talking, telling them about her visits with Helen Mitchell, how Helen told her about Coach, and all the people he helped. I wonder if Helen told Jess that if not for Coach, she might not be here. I say a grateful silent prayer and shoot it up to Coach.

  “I thought because of what happened, because of this one huge awful mistake, I was a terrible person.” Jess stops, wipes a tear. “It was a bad decision, the worst of my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m bad; it means I’m normal, not perfect.”

  I look at Kevin, his eyes fixed on Jess. She is right, I realize. A bad decision doesn’t make you an awful person. It makes you human. I have been waiting for this town to realize that for seventeen years, and I can’t even offer the same forgiveness to this man who I love, or to the father who created me, or to Jake who gave me Jess standing up there right now. I squeeze Kevin’s hand. I love him. That is all that should matter. I lean into him, and he smiles at me.

  “After the accident, I felt so alone. Sometimes I wished I was dead. I didn’t think I could ever be happy again. Coach Mitchell’s daughter Karen said something that changed everything. She said, ‘My father would never want your life ruined because of his death.’ That’s so huge.” Jess hesitates, her voice raw. “Who forgives like that?”

  She wipes at her eyes, and a startled look crosses her face. I follow her gaze and recognize Coach Mitchell’s children, Bobby, Brian, and Karen seated near the back. They are crying too. Jess seems to address them, now. “I can’t ever make up for taking a life, but I can take responsibility for it. For too long I have taken too much for granted—I was more important to me than the people around me. I am not that person anymore. I promise. Ms. Helen told me she believes that some of Coach is now in me. I want to believe that.

  The state of Texas wants me to tell you not to drive distracted, but what I really want to tell you is not to live distracted. I don’t plan to take another moment or another person for granted. I hope you won’t either.” She steps away from the microphone. Then steps back, leans in, and says, “Thank you.”

  The sudden silence in the room makes the sniffling audible. I am not the only one crying. The clapping starts from the back near the door and fills the auditorium. My tears come in torrents. I watch as Ellen comes to the podium and guides Jess off the stage so the principal can dismiss the students. It occurs to me my daughter is a lot more grown-up than I am.

  When I find Jess afterward, I pull her into my arms. “I have never been more proud, Jessica. Never. I love you.”

  “I’ve never been more scared,” she says as she clings to me.

  I whisper in her ear as I hold her tight. “You are amazing, you know that, right? You will be fine. Me, too. Both of us. We will be just fine.”

  She nods and whispers back, “I love you, Mom.”

  “Outstanding job, Jess,” says Kevin. Casey and Jake are walking towards us. Casey smiles shyly at Jess, but Jake grabs her in a bear hug.

  “You rocked that place!”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I watch as she looks over his shoulder at Casey whose own eyes look a little wet. “I guess you met Casey.”

  “I did. Who do you think started your standing ovation?”

  Casey grins.

  We say our goodbyes and leave Jess with Ellen. She has to stay for a visit with the driver’s ed class. We walk out with Casey.

  “So we’ll see you Saturday night?” Jake asks Casey when he turns to go.

  “Yes, sir,” he says.

  “Thanks for coming,” I tell him.

  He blushes and says, “Sure,” before hurrying up the hall.

  — — —

  I walk out of the school with Jake on one side and Kevin on the other. Jake and I have never spoken of his drunken phone call. It is too late for us, and I am sure when he sobered up, he realized it, too. Because of Jess, who has not only his freckles but his kind heart, Jake will always be a part of my life. But I am finished judging him. Jake is who he is, no apologies. He has made plenty of mistakes, but I have too.

  His truck is parked in the loading zone, and we pause to say goodbye.

  “She did it,” he says to me.

  I smile. “She did.” Then I hug him. He winks at me and climbs into his truck.

  “See ya Saturday,” he yells out the window as the engine roars to life and diesel fumes fill the entranceway.

  “Are you bringing the new girlfriend?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  “Nah, we split up. It’ll just be
me,” he says and pulls out.

  — — —

  Kevin walks with me to my car.

  “You should be proud,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, but it is a monumental understatement for the debt I owe him. “I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He nods towards Jake. “You had friends with you.”

  “No, Kevin, not just today. All of it. You saved her. You know that, right?”

  He shakes his head. “Jess saved herself. You and Jake raised a tough kid, a smart kid. That accident could have happened to anyone. But your kid, despite the few rough patches, handled it like a champ. You raised her well. So, this one is on you. I just did what I always do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Look for the truth under all the mess.”

  I smile. “Well, thanks.”

  He kisses my forehead. “It has been my complete pleasure.”

  He walks away, but then I call to him. He stops and turns to me, his face a question. I close the distance between us, put my arms around him, and kiss him. “I want to try this again. See where it takes us. I think there’s a lot of truth under all this mess.”

  “I promise no one comes before you from now on.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I tell him with a wink. He gives me a questioning look. “You are going to be a dad, so there will soon be one person who will.”

  He smiles, even blushes. “I can’t wait to be a dad.”

  “I can’t wait to see you be one,” I tell him.

  62

  JESS

  It felt good to say all that stuff out loud. Maybe none of those kids will do anything differently because of what I said, but saying it helped me. I needed to do it. I wasn’t sure exactly what I would say until I started talking. I had notes, but that was all the stuff I’d written before the track meet, before I remembered exactly what happened in the car with Sheila. And I don’t blame Sheila. I don’t. It wasn’t her fault; it was mine. I need to tell her that too, and maybe I will someday.