Broken Dream, page 5
I glance over at the framed picture on the mantel again, my heart constricting. My wife, my daughter, both trapped in a still moment of time as I continue to live and breathe and feel an unbearable emptiness.
The guilt has been my constant companion ever since. It corrodes my soul, gnaws at me, an incessant reminder of everything I’ve lost.
Everything I failed to protect.
I down the rest of my whiskey in one gulp, grimacing as it claws its way down my throat. The empty glass clinks against the wooden table as I set it down a little too harshly.
Angie.
She’s not Lindsay.
I know this, but she’s young and full of excitement about psychiatry.
God, psychiatry.
But it excites her. She’s such a stark contrast to my own existence, which feels like it’s been in a state of perpetual winter since Lindsay and Julia passed away.
Passed away.
What a fucking euphemism.
I should really be truthful.
Three years ago…
Dazed.
Confused.
The airbag. It’s big and white and all around me.
Someone hit me. Or I hit someone. I’m not sure.
Head hurts. Blood.
My vision swims as I try to untangle myself from the airbag.
My ears.
Ringing.
High-pitched ringing.
Blood. I know the scent. Sharp and metallic. But I’m not in the OR. And the blood I smell is my own.
Blood.
Panic.
I squeeze my eyes shut and then force them open, hoping my sight will clear.
“Lindsay…” My voice sounds strange to me, distant and muffled. “Julia…”
I try to turn my head, and agony explodes through my skull. But it’s not the pain that makes me gasp. It’s the thought of my daughter in the back seat.
She’s strapped in. She’s okay. She’s got to be okay.
But why is there no crying? Why?
“Jul—”
I try to crane my neck to see the back seat, but another jolt of pain stops me. Panic and dread seize me when I can’t see her.
I fumble with the seat belt, my fingers shaking. Every nerve ending in my body screams in protest. But I can’t afford to give in to the pain. Not now.
“Julia…please,” I rasp out, choking on the words as I finally manage to unclip the seat belt. The car tilts as I climb into the back seat.
And the pain.
Fuck, the pain!
But I don’t care. I need to get Julia—
Julia!
She’s not in her car seat.
She’s…
“Julia!”
Her small body is wedged on the floor, her stuffed frog next to her.
“No! No!”
Tears mix with blood as I reach a trembling hand toward her, praying for any sign of life. Dread pounds in my chest.
“Julia, please! Oh my God, Julia.”
My right hand is numb, so with my left hand I grab her, lay her on the back seat, press my fingers to her carotid to find a pulse.
Blood flows from a cut on her head.
I’m a doctor. I should be able to save her.
I begin CPR. Or try to with only one functioning hand.
The rhythm, so familiar from years of training and practice, becomes a desperate lifeline in the back seat of our totaled car. I press, breathe, press, my heart pounding out a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My body moves mechanically, my mind trying to push away the horror that is unfolding before me.
“Julia…Julia…come on,” I plead between each compression. Tears blur my vision, but I can’t afford to close my eyes. Not even for a second. “Stay with me.”
Time loses all meaning as I continue CPR.
No response, no twitch of tiny fingers or fluttering of eyelids.
A strange calm settles over me as if time has slowed down. I can hear the sirens now—distant but getting closer—and I feel strangely detached from it all.
I don’t stop the makeshift CPR until the sirens are on top of me, until firm hands are prying me away from my daughter’s lifeless body.
“Sir, we’ve got it,” a voice says, and then a jumble of words I can’t comprehend.
My knees buckle as they pull me back, and I crumple onto the cold asphalt, rain still pelting. Everything is spinning and blurring. The flashing lights glow, illuminating the faces of the medics working to save my daughter.
It’s cold. So cold.
“Julia…” My voice is a broken whisper. I don’t even realize I’m sobbing until I taste the salt on my lips. “Lindsay,” I croak out, my voice raw from screaming and crying. “Where’s Lindsay?”
“Sir? Was there another passenger?”
“Lindsay…”
“Sir, there wasn’t anyone else in the car with you.”
Nothing matters. Nothing matters anymore.
Lindsay.
She’s not here.
Thank God, she’s at school.
But Julia…
Julia…
Julia…
The world around me tilts and blurs, as if reality is trying to escape. The steady rhythm of sirens becomes a distant echo, the flashing lights seem muted, and the busy scene of paramedics working on my daughter fades into a nightmarish scene. I’m floating, disconnected from everything and everyone.
“I need… I need to call Lindsay…” My voice is barely a whisper. I struggle to sit up, but my strength seems to have abandoned me. I gasp for air.
A paramedic kneels beside me. She’s saying something to me, her words melding together into an indecipherable string of nonsense. She tries to steady me, gives me an oxygen mask, but all I can think about is Lindsay.
All I can think of is how I need to tell her.
In a daze, I fumble for my phone in my pocket, pulling it out with trembling hands. The screen is cracked. I cackle out a laugh.
It’s cracked.
My soul is cracked.
Everything is cracked.
Can’t feel my right hand.
I manage to unlock the phone.
Lindsay’s contact.
Her smiling face.
God, her smiling face.
I press send and hold my breath.
It rings, rings, rings…
Finally, a click, and then…her voice.
“Hi, it’s Lindsay. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Her voice, so light and cheerful, cuts through the chaotic sounds around me, slicing into my gut with an almost physical pain.
“Li-Lindsay…” My voice trembles on her name, the reality of everything crashing down on me. “Something’s happened…” I choke out the words between gasping breaths.
The phone drops from my grip and clatters onto the ground.
Hands grab at me again, pulling me away from the car as they work on Julia. But I can’t tear my eyes away from her, from her still form.
“Lindsay… Julia…”
My words are swallowed up as consciousness slips away.
Oblivion.
Blissful oblivion.
Chapter Nine
Angie
I freeze, a wineglass in each hand.
Ralph?
He’s attractive, but I never gave him any signals.
His kiss is soft and sweet, but after today’s kiss from Jason…
It’ll take a lot more to get my attention.
I set down the wineglasses and push him away.
“What was that?” I demand.
“A kiss,” he says, grinning slightly. “You do enjoy kissing, don’t you?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I… Well, yeah. But…we’re here to study. To help each other. To eat pizza and…”
God, I’m babbling.
“Come on.” He furrows his brow. “You know you want it as much as I do.”
I cock my head, irritated. “Excuse me?”
He cocks his head, his gaze dark. “I don’t think I stuttered.”
I drop my gaze to his crotch, where his hardness is evident.
Oh, God…
“You like to kiss, Angie. I know you do. I saw you.”
I swallow. What the hell is he talking about? The only person I’ve kissed since I’ve been to medical school is—
Oh, shit…
Did he see Jason kiss me?
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demand, willing my voice not to shake.
“Today, after lab. I forgot my iPad, and I went back to the room. I saw you. You and Dr. Lansing.”
I don’t reply. Just try to keep myself steady.
Ralph raises an eyebrow. “He could lose his job for that.”
How do I handle this? Do I admit it? That won’t do Jason or me any good at all. I hate lying, but—
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re mistaken.” I pick up one of the bottles of Steel Vineyards Ruby that he brought, uncork it, add the aerator, and pour a glass, hoping the trembling in my hands isn’t apparent.
“Really?” He narrows his gaze. “I’m not an idiot. You can’t deny what I saw.”
I take a sip from my glass, doing my best to steady my shaking hands. “Maybe you should consider getting your eyes checked.”
Ralph crosses his arms and lets out a low chuckle. “You’re a terrible liar, Angie.”
I swallow and set my glass down on the counter with more force than necessary, spilling a few drops of wine. “That’s irrelevant, Ralph. We’re all here to study, and that’s all.”
“I wonder what the dean of students would have to say if I told him what I saw?” Ralph says snidely.
“I’m sure he’d ask Dr. Lansing and me what actually happened, and we’d set the record straight.” I grit my teeth and look Ralph directly in the eyes. “Nothing happened.”
Ralph’s snide smile fades, replaced by a scowl. “You’re bluffing.”
“You think so?” I challenge.
I grew up with two older brothers and tons of male cousins. You either learn to stand up to them or get walked over. I may be quiet, but I’m no doormat.
Ralph seems taken aback by my defiance, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he keeps his arms crossed. “You’re lying,” he says after a pause. “I know what I saw.”
“And I know what didn’t happen,” I retort. “If you want to make baseless accusations, be my guest. But remember, Ralph, the truth always comes out in the end.”
He smirks. “I suppose it will.”
Just as the tension is about to strangle us both, Tabitha walks into the kitchen, leaving Eli in the living room. She stops in her tracks when she sees our standoff.
“What’s going on here?” she asks, frowning at Ralph.
“Nothing,” Ralph grumbles.
Tabitha’s eyes narrow as she studies Ralph, me, and then Ralph again. “I think it’s more than nothing,” she says. “You two look like you’re about to kick each other’s asses.”
“Maybe that’s because Angie here can’t admit the truth,” Ralph snaps.
“Ralph…” I begin, trying to keep my voice steady.
Tabitha interrupts me, though, turning her full attention to Ralph. “And what truth would that be?”
Ralph hesitates for a moment, eyeing me. I can almost see his mind struggling with whether or not to spill what he saw.
And he did see it.
I was there.
But I’m sticking to my story. I don’t want Jason to get into any kind of trouble.
“He thinks he saw something that he misinterpreted,” I say.
“And what would that be?” Tabitha asks.
I swallow hard. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“No, Angie,” Ralph counters. “It’s not nothing.”
Before Tabitha says anything more, Eli walks into the kitchen holding up his hands. “What’s going on in here?”
Before Ralph can respond, I cut in. “Let’s just drop it.” My voice is firm. “Can we just focus on why we’re actually here?”
Eli pours himself a glass of wine. “I second that motion. Pizza and textbooks are getting cold.”
Tabitha chuckles. “You can toss your books in the oven for a few minutes to warm them up.”
Ralph shoots me a final glare before grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the counter. He heads for the living room without another word.
Tabitha watches him go, furrowing her brows before turning back to me with an unreadable look on her face. She doesn’t ask any more questions, though, thank God. Instead, she pours herself a glass of wine.
“Yeah, we’re here to study, not to stir up drama,” she says quietly.
I try to give her a grateful smile. We join Eli and Ralph in the living room.
Ralph is putting on his coat and gloves, his half-eaten slice of pizza on my coffee table. “Not much in the mood for studying anymore,” he says. “See you all in lab tomorrow.” He says nothing more before walking out the door.
His exit is followed by an awkward silence, which Eli thankfully breaks.
“What the fuck was that about?”
Tabitha shrugs. “Drama queen.”
I force a laugh. “Yeah. Drama queen.”
Tabitha presses her lips together. “He seems a little old to be acting that way. Hell, we’re too old to be acting that way.”
Eli scratches the side of his head. “Who knows. Everybody has a story.” He gazes out the window. “He was my ride, though.”
“So grab an Uber,” Tabitha says, shrugging again. “Are we going to study or not?”
“Fine.” Eli nods. “What’ll it be? Anatomy?” He looks at me. “Psychology?”
I ignore his smirk. Since when does an interest in psychology make you a pariah? Don’t they know the importance of mental health?
Of course Eli and Tabitha are both interested in surgery. I have no idea what path Ralph plans to pursue, and after tonight, I sure as hell don’t care.
“We cut tomorrow,” Tabitha says with a grin.
I hold back a groan.
But apparently the look on my face says it all.
“We dissected fetal pigs last semester,” Eli says. “What’s your problem, Ang?”
“Pigs aren’t human beings,” I say. “Plus, I love bacon as much as the next person.”
“These human beings are dead.” From Tabitha.
“Yeah, but they’re—they were—people.” I sigh. “I don’t expect you to understand. I grew up on a beef ranch. My family raises cattle, and I know they go to the slaughterhouse. But it’s all done humanely.”
“These people died humanely,” Eli says. “I doubt any of them were murdered. If they were, they wouldn’t be good cadaver material.”
“Eli…” Tabitha warns, but I shake my head.
“No, it’s fine.” I stand from the couch and head toward the kitchen, my appetite completely vanished. “I just think we should show some respect. These were people who had lives, loves, dreams. You make your jokes, but remember that someday it’ll be us on those tables.”
I’m echoing exactly what Jason said in class today.
I don’t feel any better about the whole thing, though.
I leave them in the living room. Too much has happened tonight, and all I want is to be alone. With a sigh, I wash my hands and pour another glass of wine.
The sound of footsteps makes me turn. Tabitha is in the kitchen, leaning against the island.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
I shrug. “Just a lot to take in.”
She walks over to me. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Angie, but something happened between you and Ralph in here. I’m not sure what, but it’s got you on edge.”
She’s not wrong.
And Jason made all the points today in lab about the bodies being a gift. That we should be respectful. I don’t know why I’m repeating them tonight.
I knew when I entered med school that I’d be dissecting human bodies. And I knew it would be difficult for me, but I chose this path anyway.
I force another smile. “I’m good. But I think I’m ready to call it a night if you guys don’t mind.”
Tabitha nods. “I totally get it. I can drive Eli home.”
“Then why’d you tell him to get an Uber?”
She shrugs. “Because I was hoping you and I could talk privately, but I see you’re not up for that.” She gives me a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow in lab.”
She and Eli grab their coats and leave without any more than a goodbye.
I put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator and let Tillie in. She runs inside, sniffing the spots on the couch where Eli and Tabitha were sitting.
She knows someone new was here.
Just like Tabitha knows something. Or at least has an inkling that something is going on with me.
I like Tabitha, but I hardly know her.
Why did she want to talk to me in private?
If she also witnessed my kiss with Jason, he and I are both in big trouble.
Chapter Ten
Jason
Three years earlier…
The room feels too bright, too warm. I want to loosen my collar, maybe just get up and leave. But I can’t leave my wife alone here. Not like this.
I glance at Lindsay. She’s sitting next to me on the couch, her shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the floor. She looks so small, so unlike herself. The Lindsay I know is strong, fierce, but now I hardly recognize her.
Hell, I hardly recognize myself.
The therapist, Dr. Morgan, clears her throat softly. She’s trying to look sympathetic, but I can see through it. She’s just another stranger who thinks she can get inside our heads, rearrange the furniture, and magically fix everything. As if talking about her will make this easier.
“So, Lindsay,” Dr. Morgan begins, “last week, you mentioned that some days feel harder than others. Can you tell me about one of those days?”
Lindsay shifts, fidgets with her fingers. Then with the sleeves of her sweater. She doesn’t answer. I know she won’t, and I don’t blame her.
