Page 49 of Ripple Effect
33
Elizabeth
Year One - Ten Years Ago from Present Day
With every trip that Cal takes, more and more conflicting emotions arise. I’m so proud of him for building the company he works for to a force to be reckoned with, but at the same time, I’ve only been married for six months and I’ve seen my husband for maybe half of them. There are nights when we’re talking on the phone—my only connection when he’s trying to sell work—that I feel like I only have part of his attention.
And I mourn because I was supposed to have all of his heart.
With the way he seared my soul to his, I don’t feel like it’s just him who walks out the door every time he leaves; he’s taking more and more of me with him. Where before I was strong enough to be on my own, accepted it. I let him in past my defenses. Now, I just exist in the moments in between.
I’m supposed to be stronger for love, but I’m weaker, and deep down I know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
Tonight, I stayed late at Deja Vu to write up some invoices and do payroll. It’s after eleven and I haven’t eaten much today. Since I almost paid one of my employees $25,000 instead of their normal $2,500 salary, I know it’s time to head out for the night. “I’m sure Jackie would have loved that.”
It’s easier to spend the long nights working late instead of at home. Here, I can reach some sort of fulfillment. What do I have there to sustain me but longing? Closing down my laptop, I lock everything away until I come back tomorrow. Grabbing the bank bag I need to deposit on the way home, I toss it in my purse before I slip out the back door. After locking up, I slide my keys in my pocket before crossing the lot to head in the direction of my car.
Unlocking it, I start the car and head onto the main road. Since I can’t have what I really want—which is for Cal to be waiting for me when I get home—I debate swinging by my favorite sub shop. “If Cal keeps these trips up, he’s going to come home to two wives instead of the one he left,” I mutter, knowing I haven’t cooked a decent meal in weeks.
Accelerating through the light on Meeting Street, I turn on North Market when I hear a screech of tires.
Then there’s only black.
* * *
I don’t knowhow long I’m in the dark. When I wake up, it’s like being in a different world. Everything is in such contrast to what happened. I try to shift, but I let out a painful moan.
“Marcus? She’s awake. Thank heavens.” My mother lifts her head from the side of my bed where it’s been resting next to my hand. She squeezes mine so hard it hurts. I try, but I barely manage to exert enough pressure to reassure myself I’m alive.
Darting my eyes around, it penetrates I’m hooked up to tubes and monitors. “Hospital?” I manage to ask.
“Yes. Do you remember anything that happened?” My father steps up to run his hand over my hair.
I immediately start to shake my head, but when I feel the pain shooting through my neck, it all comes back: locking up, driving, the crash. “Yes,” I get out.
“You scared us, baby,” my mother whimpers.
I swallow with a throat that’s too dry. “Water?”
Dad shakes his head. “Only ice chips.”
It sounds miraculous. He reaches over for the container and puts a chip on a spoon. I eagerly take it from him. Rolling it around my mouth, I can taste the lingering effect of dryness start to ease. “How bad?”
Mom winces and looks away. Dad’s hand, which had resumed stroking my hair, stills. “We can talk about it later, honey.”
“Tell me.” It’s taking all my effort to ask.
“Why don’t we wait for the doctor to come in?” Mom suggests.
Just then, the door pushes open. A tall blonde woman with a wedge haircut wearing a long white coat appears. She’s making notes on a tablet before her attention focuses on us. “Wonderful. You must be Mrs. Sullivan. I’m Dr. Devin. I’ve been monitoring you since you came in.”
I just nod, too overwhelmed by what’s she’s saying to speak. Then the memory of burning pain from the car wreck returns, and I gasp.
“If you’re feeling any pain, Mrs. Sullivan, all you need to do is push this button here.” Dr. Devin hands me a small black button. “This is your pain medicine. Don’t worry, you can’t push it too many times,” she teases gently. “It’s set to only release so much per hour.”
Dr. Devin’s head tilts toward Mom and Dad. “Mrs. Sullivan, when your parents came in, they had a copy of your medical power of attorney. Your husband was listed first, but from what I understand, he’s unavailable. Now that you’re awake, I’d like to confirm I can speak freely in front of them.”
Ignoring the wrenching ache her words cause not my head but my heart, I murmur, “Yes,” so she continues.
