Reckonings

Nikki was unaware of the confluence of events that would up-end her world on this day, as the gentle breeze wafted in from the open window. It touched her skin with a light movement that was life-giving and ephemeral. There was nothing extraordinary in its offering, the day or the light gusts that rustled her brown, non-descript hair. The sky was a sullen grey, a tint of melancholy that was growing darker with each passing minute. Looking out the window, she thought of how the tones, monochromatic and blurred, were reminiscent of a watercolor painting. If only she could take a brush, swipe it across the sky, and make it more rigid, outlined, give it meaning. Her eyes could not, at first sight, see the light drizzle, but her mind could detect a lazy, downward movement; she could feel its cold wetness without being immersed in it. An involuntary shiver ran down her back. She sipped her hazelnut-flavored coffee and tried to push out the building thoughts, the unceasing worries of which she had no control. She had long resigned herself to the helplessness, but held out a longing for order, for someone to usher out the hopelessness.

There were endless demands of her time that taxed and spent her resolve: work, her overly critical husband, their son and daughter who were on the cusp of being teenagers, two dogs who were two too many, exercise routines, attending to the bills and the mounting debt, grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, friends, extended family, unexpected happenings like the flat tire on Tuesday on the way to the kids’ tennis practice, dental appointments, sickness, fatigue, homework, chores, errands, planning vacations, juggling finances, and silently crying herself to sleep. Of course, the person who took up most of her time was herself, stuck knee deep in thoughts that were irrational or unattainable, a flurry of self-induced chastisements, wondering how she could have entangled herself in this affair. 

She couldn’t extricate her consciousness from thoughts of him. He made her want to risk it all. She thumbed her fingers gently against the table, waiting for a sign from without or within, anything that she could cling to in her forlorn state. Her phone, with its abrupt ring, startled her back to the present.

“Yes, Rob,” her voice sounded foreign, as she wondered why her husband would be calling at this early hour.

“Mrs. Acton?” inquired the unfamiliar voice.

She was startled to attention, wondering why someone other than Rob would be calling from his phone.

“Hello,” she blurted out with apprehension.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m Officer Perkins. I have some unfortunate news to relay. There is no easy way to say this…your husband was involved in an accident. He was hit head on by another vehicle. He’s been airlifted over to St. Joseph Hospital. I would advise you going there as quickly as possible,” he paused, gathering his thoughts, pushing down his emotions as all police were taught to do, “I am very sorry to have to call you with this news.”

“I, I, did I hear you right?” she asked. There was a vague realization of what he had said, words and sounds that bit into her already numb state.

“Yes, ma’am. Again, I am deeply sorry. I would go there now. He was hurt badly,” his voice trailed into silence.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Thank you for calling,” and she let the line go dead without a proper goodbye.

She sat frozen in the refrain of what he had said…an accident, hospital, airlifted, hurt badly. The words reverberated loudly in her head. There was a sense of the storm clouds gathering, a swell of discord, an end that would have no beginning. Nikki clutched at her purse and phone and ran to door leading to the garage. She had to make it right.

---

Jim paced the hallway, precise with his steps, meticulous in his approach to everything. He counted out the steps from the nurse’s station to the exit door at the far end of the hallway, thirty-nine in total and then he pivoted to retrace the path. Back and forth. One step at a time. He never showed emotion, albeit irritation, but that was a personality flaw he had recently acquired. It was owed to his twenty-five years on the force and how it had worn down the limits of his patience. Jim understood too well the transgressions of humanity, and yet somehow, he had let himself be swept up in this act of vanity, carried by the winds, relinquishing control to his own desires. He didn’t know how he could give Nikki the news. It would break her. It had already severed something inside of him.

The lights on the emergency floor were dulled, and a heavy smell of anti-septic cleaner permeated the hallway, accosting Jim’s senses. The pristine floors and the whiteness of the walls lent an air of orderliness, but behind the pulled curtains of each room’s doorway was a quiet, spiraling chaos, family member’s clinging to an unresponsive hope as their loved ones labored for air. There was a repeated cacophony of beeping noises emanating from the medical equipment, machines intertwined with tubes and lines that disseminated life-saving medicines. Rob had not been the benefactor of such modern technologies. His life, which had been measured and carefully spent in seconds, minutes, and hours was now erased, forever exiled to that mystery place that awaits.

Jim ran his hands through his short hair, staring up at the ceiling, walking a mental tightrope of how he arrived at this place and this time. He had often laid in his bed listening to his wife, Rachel, snoring and aimlessly moving in her sleep. In those quiet hours, he had ached longingly to be with Nikki. She presented him a different path where he felt needed and wanted, the two things a middle-aged man desired. He didn’t doubt that Rachel loved him, but he knew that the two of them hadn’t been in love for a decade or longer; the trappings of life had robbed them of romance and togetherness. A comfort existed between them, a familiarity that had its benefits, but he had grown fond of the passion that exuded from Nikki’s words, her touch, that insatiable laugh that swallowed him up in its genuine release.

Jim looked up and saw Nikki running a blistering stride to room 116, and he intercepted her before she could blow through the arbitrary curtain.

She started crying before he could enunciate the words. She knew by the worry etched on his face, the deepening lines that had been witness to many similar heartbreaks.

“He’s gone, Nik, I don’t even know how to comprehend it,” he held her in his arms as she collapsed under the weight of her new reality.

The sobs, unnatural and primal, flowed up from her core like a tempest. He steadied himself, shouldering the brunt of her weight, holding her tight against him, knowing that there were no words to assuage the pain.

“Go to him, Nik,” he said, “I don’t know what it feels like, but I know what it feels like…,” he looked at her with an understanding that gave her strength.

As she was about to leave, a doctor approached and pulled Jim aside. The conversation was still within Nikki’s earshot, and she listened intently, thinking there was some remedy in the offering that would make them whole, turn back time.

“Jim, I’ve known you for a long time. Normally, I would follow strict protocol, but I just saw Rach. The tests are,” he paused, tapping his left foot, “they are definitive. I just met with her on the oncology unit. She has stage 4 leukemia.” His eyes darted, a tell that he didn’t know what else to say.

Jim took a deep breath, looked longingly into the white void of the hallway. “Thanks, Richard. I know that type of news is never easy to share.” There was a mutual respect for their careers and providing the nervy delivery of the truth.

Jim and Nikki held each other with their gaze; the few seconds felt like a lifetime. They both nodded, a knowing that time was finite, and their connection would survive the existing turmoil.

***

Nikki drove home with her earth shattered, the road undulating like waves in her field of vision. She floated along to the songs belted out on the FM airwaves, barely cognizant of the lyrics, the stoplights, or the familiar landmarks as her car whizzed by in a state of forward momentum. She existed only in her tears.

Reluctantly, she entered the quiet house, placing the mail on the dining room table. She had succumbed to the shock, listing in a limbo of surreal disillusionment. Her terriers circled her feet in a frenzy, and she let herself fall into the chair at the end of the table with a defeat that was heavy and unapologetic.

She found herself staring blankly out the same window that had captivated her attention earlier that morning. She watched the tree branches of the maple sway with a vigor. There was an ungodly roar that pierced through the deadness, a detachment that couldn’t be endured. As her line of focus became more pronounced, she saw the limbs of the bountiful tree bend horizontally at an angle that was unnatural and foreboding.

Instinctively, she jumped up, corralled the dogs down the hallway and into the basement, as the terror of the storm channeled its way through her house like a train derailed. No sooner had she slammed the basement door shut, she felt the house collapse in its shuddering and gasping, an explosion of noise that was rife with desolation and heartache.

The blaring whistle of the storm hoovered for a few interminable seconds then faded into the distance - an echo, a haunting, a sacrificed memory.

Nikki looked upward, surveying her new prison, realizing she was fully buried in a mountain of debris left by the swift-moving tornado. Some of it was the remnants of her home, and the rest was an indiscernible pile of everyone else’s junk. She ran the length of her basement, until she found an opening where she could squeeze her hand through and touch the elusive heaven, the ground level. With her fingertips reaching for something familiar, a cool breeze raced against her skin. She grasped further, standing on tippy toe, letting out an ardent cry for the fact that she was still alive.