New Life

One moment was all it took. At 2:47 p.m., I looked at the green numbers on my dashboard. I was so late, it didn’t make sense to even show up at all. John would understand. He doesn’t expect much from me, so I’m sure he won’t be disappointed if I just ditch the science fair just like I did last month’s open house. Besides, there is a 3:30 spin class I could still catch. Yes, sweet sweat over science. And the afternoon instructor adds a little pep to my step anyway. 

When I opened my eyes, I was still staring at those green numbers. Only now I saw 2:48. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was still at the same intersection, only between 2:47 and 2:48, I was flung across the road where oncoming traffic flowed just moments ago. I was conscious of every ounce of my 150 pound frame as I dangled from the ceiling of my Jeep Cherokee, at the mercy of my seatbelt. My body was numb. There was warm, dark liquid dripping on the speedometer, which, along with the green numbers of the clock and the rest of the dashboard, was now only inches from my face. Was that blood? Was it coming from me? 

Things went dark. The next thing I remember, I tried to sit up but my torso felt like a ton of bricks. My right leg was suspended from a metal bed frame. I could see a few swollen purple grapes where my toes should have been. A soundtrack of bells and alarms, dings and overhead pagers pulsed the air. Every beep made my head throb. What did I do? How did I end up in the hospital? I was just going to spin class. Then I remembered the oncoming truck carrying one-half of a mobile home. Surely that monster-of-a-truck wasn’t turning! Then I was spinning, out of control. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to force myself out of the line of impact. I remembered the vivid dreams. Last night? Over the last few nights? What day was it, and in an effort to rid my mind of the images of my mangled body lying in the hospital bed, I willed myself back into a fitful slumber.

John and I were riding the waves in Hawaii. My legs strong, my now globe-like toes were slender in my dream, fixed to the surf board and nicely manicured. After only three tries, I had managed to stick the waves that came at me. What could I say? I was athletically inclined. Poor John was just along for the ride. Always good natured and supportive of my latest venture. Sometimes I wished he could speak up for once, have a stiffer spine, choose a sport for his own sake instead of feigning interest in my cyclical hobbies, obviously only for the chance to hang with me.

Yes, I knew he didn’t care anything about surfing. Or spin classes. And before that, karate. Each of these had been John’s thing, too, until the precise moment I switched gears. Coincidental? Nope.

 I wasn’t good at everything I tried. Just most things. I played in the ladies’ golf scramble once. John practiced with me for two days beforehand, though he never managed a single swing that resulted in contact with a ball. But he watched every golf game on the tube, stood by and cheered me on at the golf scramble, waved and smiled in support hole after hole, swing after swing. But when I decided my bust prohibited me from playing golf competitively, he never so much as mentioned golf again.

We were on to basketball. When I suggested we coach the Skeeters, a girls’ little league team, John was happy to oblige. I did stick that out for the whole fall season. Well, I might have tried to bail on the last two games, but John drug me to the game, scolding me for jumping from one pet project to the next. Those little girls were a ton of fun. Still, why did John agree to coach the Skeeters with me? He didn’t even know the difference in a free throw and a slam dunk. But he did love kids. We had that in common.

One by one, my dreams were filled with thoughts and memories of John. He never asked much of me. He always supported me. He proudly introduced me to the flock of female teachers in his hallway at school the one and only time I made it to his school to see his favorite student play the harmonica in the “totally wacky talent show.” Totally wacky talents were right up my alley. And I had even taken harmonica lessons that one summer...

Yes, I was a jack of all trades, master of none. Friendly to all, but known by few.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a round, burgundy-haired nurse leaning over me. When I tried to speak to the nurse she motioned for me to stop. I tilted my head down and back up in response to her questions about my pain, my thirst. But each time, a foam collar under my chin, wet with some sort of ooze, prevented me from making a full gesture.

The nurse explained that I couldn’t have food or drink yet as my stomach was injured in the accident. But she took a pink swab dipped in ice water and moved it around in my mouth. She helped me turn over and rubbed by back with a warm rag and some lotion. She told me what she knew about the accident and how lucky I was to be here. 

A song was playing overhead. A lullaby? She saw the questioning look in my eyes, and explained that every time a baby is born in the hospital, a lullaby plays overhead to celebrate a new life. I tried to smile. As she turned to leave she told me John would be here before dinner. I smiled and she walked over leaning in close.

“That John, he is a keeper. Those dimples! I want you to know he has hardly left this room for the last few weeks.”  She pointed at the television overhead where I could see Djokovic slamming tennis balls in a replay of Wimbledon.

 “John has instructed all the nurses and aides to leave the TV on the tennis channel at all times in case you wake up. He says when you get your leg out of that sling and get hopping again, the two of you are going to take up tennis.” I smiled. John was still here. I would see him any minute. I couldn’t wait to tell him I was sorry for bailing on the science fair. And I would gladly let him to clobber me at tennis. Even if I had to let him win.

Just then, I heard the door open and John walked in. At the exact same moment a rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle played overhead. A new life! As I looked into John’s eyes again for the first time, I couldn’t help but think that lullaby was for me. I had a new life. I had a second chance. I planned to do things right. I was playing for keeps this time.