Accidental

“Have we met before?” His ocean blue eyes pierced through mine. He flashed a cocky smile and tilted his head to the left. “Because I swear I’ve seen you in my dreams.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed at his attempt to gain my attention. I’ve been single for two years and I still wasn’t used to being hit on. I turned away slightly and tried to hide my smile behind my drink. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I eyed my admirer. He was tall with beach blonde hair combed back and to the right. His shirt was tight against his muscles. He had a gold chain and a chin dimple. His crooked smile made goosebumps buzz over my skin. He was cheesy, but cute. Despite his opening line, he made an impression. 

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” he asked. 

I looked him over again and grinned. “Vodka cranberry.”

He chuckled to himself. 

“What?” I protested. 

“Nothing. Nothing. One vodka cranberry coming up.” He raised a finger to flag down the bartender. They made eye contact and the bartender replied with a soft nod.  

“Tell me,” I said. “Please,” I added.

“You can tell a lot by a person based on what they drink,” he said. 

“Oh really?” I was intrigued. Even before I was legally able to drink, I’ve always loved the taste of a Cape Cod. The bittersweet of the cranberries mixed with the refreshing twist of the vodka. “What does it say about me?”

“Well,” he started but then stopped to give the bartender his order. “It means that you’re bubbly and fun…you like a good party…” I nodded along with him, agreeing to everything he said. The bartender returned with a Cape Cod and a pint of beer with virtually no head. He thanked the bartender and took a mouthful of his own light beer.  “But,” he said with a quick inhale and a tisk of his lips, “You are naive.” 

“Am not!” I said in a playful manner. 

He laughed and looked at me. “You either are new to drinking or you don’t like the taste of alcohol.” He stuck out a meaty hand and gave me a grin, “Name’s Patrick.”

I took his hand and shook it. His hand looked big in my delicate small fingers. “I’m Felicia.” 

“Pleasure,” he said simply. 

We talked for a while, skipping over the casual small talk. He confessed hating that part of getting to know someone. It was dull and repetitive. 

Patrick cleared his throat and asked, “What is your biggest priority in life?” 

I was surprised. “You don’t want to know about what I do for a living, or how many brothers and sisters I have?” I asked. 

He shook his head and replied, “We can save all that for the second date.” His laugh was infectious and I found myself laughing along with him. 

“Well,” he insisted, “What’s your biggest priority?” I knew the answer right away, but took a moment to consider it. 

“Baking. I have my own bakery downtown.” I smiled at his reaction. 

“Wow, I’ll have to go check it out one of these days. What’s it called?”

“Better Bakes. It’s on Fourth Sreet, across from the movie theater.” We bantered back and forth for a while. I answered his questions and he answered mine. After a second round of drinks, we found ourselves on the dance floor. 

We danced to every song the DJ played. We took teqshots and bit into limes. We held on to each other as we paid our tab. Empty streets welcomed us as we stumbled out of the bar. Patrick pulled out his phone. 

“Uber’s almost here. White honda,” he hiccupped. I nodded in agreement to join him on the mission of finding the car. I looked around, seeing double and gleefully pointed out a singular car to our right.

“I found it!” I said with a laugh. “Let’s go!” I pulled at him and he followed with an enormous smile. He swayed from light to right and his feet stumbled over his steps. He opened the car door and let me in. Then, he crawled into the car after me and sat in the middle of the back seat.

“For Patrick?” the driver asked. 

Patrick let out a ‘yeah’ before closing the door. 

“You cool with everything?” he asked me. I nodded before kissing him. I melted into his lap and he scooped me up. His tongue was rough and soft at the same time. His lips cradled mine. I remember racing down the road, with the street lights fighting to keep up. 

“Felicia,” I say with a firm voice. I saw her eyes flutter. She’s waking up, I think. I start to get excited and move closer to her. “Felicia,” I repeat her name. She moans and turns her side toward my voice. She’s wrapped in bandages and has a black eye. Her lips are swollen and red. Deep scratches on her cheeks and chin. Her right arm is in a cast and the blanket is loose around her belly with her toes poking out from underneath. I fix her up and brush the hair out of her face. The machines beep and ding as I watch Felicia struggle for consciousness. 

I think back to the accident. The scrapping of the metal, the horns blaring for attention, the smell of smoke and fire. Our driver carelessly runs a red light and is slammed by a pickup truck. The car violently slides to the right. I hit my head on the window and before I know it, the car flies off the road and flips into a ditch. The horn screams in my ears. I realize the driver is pressing on the steering wheel with his entire body. The airbags didn’t go off. I look over to my left and see Felicia halfway out of the window. She was still. I panic and squirm out of the vehicle. 

“Hey!” I hear shouting. I look in the direction and it’s the other driver. He has blood running down the side of his face and nose. “Are you alright?” 

“Help me get them out,” I instruct. My throat is suddenly dry and it cracks as I speak. The young man runs to my aid. He has blood on his university hoodie.

“How many are in there?” he asks. 

“Two. Get the driver.” I carefully grab Felicia’s arms and wrap myself under them. I pull her up and onto my chest. With shaky legs, I walk backwards, holding her tight. Tripping over downed branches and rocks, I finally make it to the side of the road. I lay her down gently and hold her face in my hands. 

“Felicia,” I tried, “Wake up.” I gently tap her cheeks. 

“Hey,” I hear the truck driver shout, “I need help!” I turned back and saw him struggling to get our driver out. The smoke grew blacker and puffed with intensity. I run down the bank and grab a hold of our driver. We count and pull together, dragging him away from the car. 

“I’ll call 911,” the man says to me. Up close, I see he’s a lot younger than I originally thought. He is clean shaven with messy long hair. His shattered glasses are askew on his face. He pulls out his phone and quickly dials. I turn my attention back to Felicia. She hasn’t moved, but is still breathing. I relax, but only a little. Another car pulls up and a couple offers to help. I feel heavy and sit down next to Felicia. They run up to me, but I point to our driver, who is still passed out by the car. 

“He needs help,” I say. The man in the couple nods and runs to the driver. The woman stays with me until darkness consumes me.  

I shake the flashback out of my mind and shiver. It’s cold in here. I tug at the blanket the nurse gives me. It’s as thin and rough as the newspaper I read earlier that morning. I think I was warmer without it.

I wait for her eyes to find me and I give her a smile in return. Her head was bandaged and there is a plastic tube in her nose. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. 

“Hey,” I shush her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Felicia looks at me and gives me her breathtaking smile. She says in the softest voice, “Have we met before?”