GRACE
The sound of metal crunching and the scent of gasoline has my eyes fluttering open. It’s hard to see, and my head is pounding from the blood rushing to it as I hang upside down. There’s a drip on the roof of my car, and taking in my surrounding, I guess it’s from my head.
Harmony, I think in a panic, but quickly remember she’s at Cole and Lyla’s house. She’s safe. The feeling of relief is short-lived when I try to move. My leg explodes in pain so intense I almost pass out. Stars blur my vision. I scream out in pain, but there’s no response.
I assess my situation, knowing I need to get out of here. Another driver must have hit me. Or did I fall asleep? Did I hurt anyone? Frantically I look out of each window, but I can’t see much. The front of my mini is smashed against my side, pinning my left leg under its weight.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I yell as loud as possible, but it comes out strangled and weak.
I remember getting off work at the hospital and stopping at the red light by Airfield Rd, then nothing after that.
Smoke billows out around me. My chest hurts, and it’s hard to breathe. I smell gas and hear the sound of something dripping nearby. Looking around for my cell phone is physically painful. Most of my belongings are scattered across the roof above me, out of reach. I spot my neon pink phone case, but it’s a painful stretch away.
“Help!” I cry into the night air.
As the adrenaline and shock wear off, the pain creeps in. Dots of blood paint my palms, and my head feels like it could split in two at any second. My leg feels like it’s on fire from the inside out.
I take a deep breath and scream my frustration, then wipe my hands over my nurse scrubs, pushing aside the debris to reach my phone. My leg is still pinned under the steering wheel, keeping me from escaping out the broken window. I hear a pop from under my hood, and suddenly, it feels warmer. Frantically, I reach for my phone, stretching as my body protests, but I reach it and swipe it open.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency.” Tears spring to my eyes at the voice on the other end.
“Car crash, Airfield Rd….” I say into the phone, my eyes suddenly feel heavy, and muffled words are coming through the phone line. I try to focus, but the world goes black.
* * *
The pain is gone,and my head feels light. It’s warm wherever I am. It smells familiar, safe, and musky. My eyes flutter open as my brain starts to remember. The crash, being upside down, calling 9-1-1.
“Marcus?” I ask in surprise when I find my ex asleep next to me in my hospital bed. He wakes, unwrapping himself from around me. He’s pressed against me, still dressed in black dress pants and a now very wrinkled blue button-down.
“Hey. You’re awake,” he says, then yells for a doctor, the sound making my head split in two. “God, I’m sorry Grace. Are you ok? Does anything hurt? How does your ankle feel?”
“My ankle?” I look down at the bed pulling the blanket off and finding my leg in a bright pink cast below the knee and over my foot.
“Harmony? Where is she? Is she ok? Did you get her?”
“Shh. Lie back. Our girl is fine. She’s getting coffee with Cole and Lyla. They should be back any minute. How are you feeling?”
I take a deep breath and lay my now pounding head back against the pillow, letting it out and attempting to relax. A feat that would be easier if Marcus wasn’t so close, smelling like warm musk and bad decisions.
“Confused. Disoriented.”
“That’s to be expected. You hit your head really hard. They were worried you wouldn’t wake up, but I knew you were too strong and stubborn not to.”
His voice is filled with affection, and when I turn to look at him, I instantly regret it. His eyes are filled with fear as he looks back at me. Tortured and dark, those brown eyes stare at me like I’m the center of his world. I’m not, and I know it, but I let myself fall into him for this moment. Tears fill my eyes, and he leans in, wrapping his large arms around me, and just like always, I feel safe, warm, protected, and right. It’s that feeling that tortures me every day. How right it feels to be with him, even knowing I get so little of him. It hurts every single time.
“Mommy!”
The two of us part, and I wipe my eyes and plaster on a fake smile for my daughter.
“Baby girl!” My voice breaks.
“Are you ok Mommy? Did your checkup make you all better?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m going to be just fine.”
“You broke your ankle, and Daddy let me pick out the color of your cast.”
“And I love it. Thank you for picking my favorite color,” I tell her as I squeeze her tight, sending a pain-filled thank you to god that she wasn’t in the car with me.