Page 2 of Tender Heart
Me and?—
Joshua.
The car is mangled, crumpled, and smashed in. Glass is littered over the dark, shining asphalt. My heart squeezes through my ribs in ragged, bloody slices.
Joshua . . .
“Eve, can you hear me?” The words echo beside me.
Trembling, I turn toward the sound. A stranger’s face is near mine. Relief straightens his features when I meet his gaze. “My name is Dave. You had a bit of a spill, hey. We’re goin?—”
The ground is trying to swallow me . . .
“No, stay with me honey,” Dave insists.
I rally, remembering that’s my car, and I was with?—
“N-no.” I curl upward, desperate to rise from the ground.
Hands press down on my shoulders from either side. “We need you to stay still, sweetheart. You can’t get up. You’re secured to the backboard.”
Dave.
I search the dark sky until his face comes into view, his eyes.
“Jo—” I choke. The copper from before blooms in my mouth again.
Now, the tight eyes of a female paramedic find me. Her sad smile sets my heart on fire. Burning the last shreds of hope I had to ash.
“I’m so sorry, Eve.” She shakes her head. “We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”
Air strangles my lungs. I retch; bile spills over my mouth and it burns. The still-shimmering stars overhead blur. Violently, I shake, ragged sobs revolting their way up my throat.
“She needs sedation.” A low voice drops the words by my side.
“Five mil,” she says.
“Five mil,” the low voice repeats. “We’ve got you, sweetheart.”
“No... Josh.” I try to reach, but my fingertips meet hard asphalt.
The board I lie on rises, taking me with it. I rock when it lands on a gurney. The night breeze plays with my hair, now slipped from its wedding updo, sending small brown waves around my shoulders. The paramedics’ vehicle blocks my view of my small car, theJust Marriedsign now sagging from its ties at the trunk. My head lolls, eyes drifting downward.
The once-pristine white satin and tulle of my dress is ripped, reddened, and ruined.
“Almost away,” the nice lady says with a small smile. She follows me into the back of the ambulance, talking softly. The back doors slam shut.
“Joshua?” I sob.
Kind eyes find me, a hand sweeps my hair back from my forehead.
Darkness drags me under. Down so low, numbness swallows me whole.
Five years later . . .
Icy wind bursts in squalls along the sidewalk, biting into my face. I clutch my oversized tote to my side, tucking my chin into my chest. Beanie pulled down, my long hair spills out from under it, draping over my shoulders. If only that would add a layer of warmth. A girl can dream. My small-heeled boots click along the bustling New York street in time to my frantic heartbeat. I mull over the few short words on the last unwanted letter that made its sickening entrance this morning.
A blue monarch butterfly was encased in the cream envelope, as always, accompanying the single page.
