Dream Smashers (14 page)

“Brrrr! It’s flippin’ cold!” Rainy skips
closer to Caleb. They walk arm in arm several feet ahead of us as
if they’ve been a couple since the beginning of time.

Evan laughs and nods toward Rainy and Caleb.
“Stranger things have happened.” His breath becomes fog in the
crispy air.

I put my arm through his. “Like what?”

He walks along with me and together we cross
the parking lot.

”Uh...” He squints his right eye. “I can’t
think of anything at the moment, but give me a sec, I’m sure I’ll
remember something.”

Several seconds pass. “Nope. Can’t think of a
single thing. I guess those two are the strangest thing that has
ever happened.”

We laugh.

A car slides into the parking lot.

“Whoa. Stand back.” Evan pushes me gently
through an open gate at the edge of the parking lot. The car slams
to a stop right in front of him. He looks at me with ginormous
eyes. My heart skips. The expression on his face tells me that he
might have just peed his pants too.

The door opens and Grams steps out in a
fashion that means business.

“Autumn! Hurry.” Her voice is urgent, sharp.
She clings to the door for support. Her body crumples like a
balloon with a small hole in it. “It’s your mother.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Faster. Faster. I wish he would drive faster,
but with slick roads, that would be crazy. And Evan isn’t that. But
he is a gentleman and volunteered to drive Grams’ car. Caleb and
Rainy follow in Evan’s car.

I turn to Grams, sitting next to me in the
back seat, her hand shivering in mine. “I’m sure everything is
fine.” Lie. I can’t possibly know that. “They probably just
wouldn’t tell you on the phone because they didn’t have time or
something. It’s freakishly slippery outside so maybe there are lots
of accident victims or something.” Ramble. Ramble. Lie. Lie. “Maybe
she was in one of them. Probably just a broken leg or
something.”

Grams shakes her head, her gray eyes stare
straight forward.

Dread fills my body. I wish we were on a
grassy hill far away from here. The sun warming our skin and
one-by-one we roll down the hill to the bottom where we find a
field of daisies. I wish we could drive by the hospital and keep
going. Pretend that they never called Grams, just keep driving like
we were out for ice cream. Or we can drive all the way to the
coast, rent a room on the ocean and watch the storms slam in.
California is nice this time of year. Let’s hop on I-5 for a trip
to Hollywood or Disneyland or something, anything but the
hospital.

Evan’s eyes meet mine in the rear view
mirror. They aren’t smiling like earlier tonight, but are filled
with concern.

I squeeze Grams’ boney, cold hand as we pull
into the parking lot of the hospital.

“See! Look at all these cars. The place is
busy as heck.” Deep in my heart I know that I’m probably right.
Jacinda can’t die without making things good with us. She just
can’t. If she died now…well, I’m not going to dwell on that because
she isn’t dying. We don’t even know.

But what if she is? I totally wished her
away. Maybe this is what I want. The carefree life that I’ve always
dreamed of doesn’t have a mother high on meth in it—that’s for
sure. Not this way though. Life would never be carefree if she left
us like this. Guilt would whittle away any life I tried to make for
myself. Guilt of not trying to forgive her, for not loving her like
I should, for letting her sleep on the streets and not insisting
she stay with us. For yelling at her, for hating her, for not
saving her—or at least trying.

Evan drives the car into the multi-level car
park, winding up and up the ramp. Caleb and Rainy follow. The
artificial lights flash through the car in segments, like an old
picture show. Dark, light, dark, light, dark, light.

It’s not my fault, though. She did this, made
life this way. Not me. Stuck in a melting pot without a single
skewer to grab onto, I debate. My heart says forgive, my mind says
no.

I sigh.

Grams turns to look at me. “Don’t you worry
your pretty little head. You’re right. It probably isn’t serious.”
She brushes hair away from my face and I know she is battling the
same war I am. Hers is a bloodier one though. For a mother always
forgives her daughter. Yet that forgiving for so many years has
brought us here today.

If only Grams had put her foot down firmly so
long ago. She did with me. “Grounded for life,” is what she
threatened me with if I ever touched drugs. Why didn’t it work with
Jacinda? Didn’t she punish her? Didn’t Gramps?

I study her face, the worry lines etched by
time around her mouth, the persistent frown that never leaves her
thin lips, and the sunken sad eyes that no longer shine. No, it’s
not her fault either. It’s nobody’s fault.

The car stops.

Grams climbs out, then lights a cigarette.
She shuffles her feet to the elevator, taking several drags along
the way and then snuffs her cigarette into the ash tray before
stepping into the open compartment.

We follow.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Rainy forces a smile and grabs my arm while
we walk through the entrance the woman at the information desk told
us to go through. A sign above the door reads, “Cardiac and
Vascular Department.” Another sign posted on a stand inside the
door reads, “No Visitors After 9 PM.” It’s eight now.

There is no seating, just a desk with nurses
behind it. “I’ll go check with the nurse at the counter,” Evan
says. “You guys can take a seat outside if you want.”

The general waiting room just outside the
cardiac department, full of coughing, sneezing, bloodied, crying,
smiling, tired people, is outdated and smells like 1989. It even
looks like 1989 with salmon colored benches and chairs. Evan and
Caleb stand together at the end of a long line at the powder-blue
counter while we make our way to the last open chairs under the
muted television.

A woman lies like a pretzel in the seat to my
right, sleeping, if you could call it that. Grams sits to my left,
on the edge, ready to spring if need be.

Sad faces. Frustrated faces. How long have
these people been here? Why are they here? Do any of them have a
family member dying?

One man watches the TV above us. His face,
unshaven and full of story, twitches every few minutes, waking him
from his thoughts. Or maybe his thoughts cause his face to twitch.
His right leg taps the floor, like a jack-hammer on asphalt. Is he
waiting for news of a loved one? Wife? Child? Mother?

I imagine this man, a hard worker since
birth, providing for his family and none for himself—selfless. A
wonderful husband, father, son, I bet. I wish he was my dad. I wish
he was my mom. His eyes snap open, full of blue-sorrow and
red-pain. I look away.

If Jacinda dies tonight, I’ll go skydiving.
Random, but not really. I’ve always wanted to skydive. Rainy’s
always wanted to skydive too. I can think of no better way to
celebrate our liberation than jumping from an airplane. It
symbolizes a life free of worry, free of addiction, free of
hate—carried by the wind, floating, flying, sailing down to the
soft-hard ground that nurtures open roads to explore. Roads that
lead to exotic lush forests or dry sandy deserts or booming cement
cities or snow covered mountain tops. The road I love the most
leads to the ocean—ever churning, bringing new life to the surface
and drowning the old or vice versa.

Evan touches my leg, waking me from thoughts.
“We should pray.”

I look at Rainy, sitting three chairs down.
She stands, hesitates, and then steps toward us. Caleb holds her
hand. She in turn grabs Grams’ who holds mine and I hold Evan’s—a
circle of bodies and arms.

Rainy looks at me out of the corner of her
eye and then smirks.

I can’t help but bite my bottom lip, holding
onto my own laugh and look beyond our circle at the man with
blue-sorrow eyes. He meets my glance for only a moment before
closing his eyes and bowing his head. My cheek muscles relax, no
longer fighting the smile, defeated by grief.

“Lord Jesus,” Evan says. “Thank you for your
gracious kindness and love. Please be with us in our need to bring
comfort to our unsure hearts. If it’s your will that Jacinda live,
we pray that she makes a speedy recovery from whatever ails her and
that you grace her with your presence. Amen.”

Amen. And God, if you’re still listening,
please don’t take her tonight. Please make her well and make her be
a good mom, if that’s not too much to ask.

“Jacinda Winters’ family?” a petite woman in
rainbow scrubs bellows.

Grams’ grip on my hand cuts all circulation.
I try to move, but my limbs won’t obey. This is it. They’re going
to tell us now that Jacinda is dead. That she died of an overdose
or that she got killed. My poor mom, lonely and misunderstood, mean
and selfish, but still mine. Mom.

Mediterranean Sea spills over my eyes, my jaw
tightens, and I return Grams’ hand grip with rigid fingers.

“Jacinda Winters’ family?” the woman
repeats.

Evan makes eye contact with me—kind, loving.
“Right here,” he says.

We follow the swift moving woman to a room
created behind a curtain and then we each sit in a chair around a
rectangular table that wobbles. No one says a word. As soon as we
sit, the woman turns to leave us. A tall man, who looks like he
belongs on one of those reality TV shows, with black hair that
curls around his face, steps into the room of sorrow, the room of
death announcements and dark family secrets.

Evan squeezes my knee under the table. I’ve
built up the dam again—it’s stronger this time, made of
concrete—but it still may crack so I don’t even acknowledge his
touch.

“Good evening.” The doc pulls his stethoscope
off his neck and sits in the last open chair at the head of the
table. “My name is Dr. Williams and I’ve been treating Jacinda.” We
must seem like a room full of pale zombies who can’t speak because
he talks without being prompted—without giving us a chance. “She is
fine.”

The room hisses when we release the air we’ve
been holding in our chests—especially Grams.

He sets a file on the table and crosses his
hands in front of him. “She suffered from cardiac arrest. Have you
been told anything about her circumstances?”

Grams looks at me and then to the doc.

“Absolutely nothing,” Grams says.

“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Well, Jacinda
was found in a ditch along—“ He flips through pages in the file. “I
don’t have all the details of how she came to be here but I’m sure
the police report will give you specifics where she was found. My
point is she’s been here for several days. Since, uh—“Again, he
looks through the papers and then blushes. “Since Tuesday. So, for
three days. Sorry folks, weeks drag on here and my days get
confused.”

“What?” Grams’ entire body shakes more than
usual.

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t hear
Grams. “It was touch and go for a while, but now she is stable and
resting comfortably.”

Evan jumps in. “Why wasn’t her mother
contacted before now, sir?”

“Please, just call me doctor.”

Whatever. Get over yourself. Sadness is
replaced with anger—simmering fury close to boiling.

Doc continues. “She had no identification on
her. When she woke, she refused to give us specifics of her
identity. We eventually had an anonymous call giving us Jacinda’s
name and your information as well. When we knew who she was, she
was still reluctant to allow us to call. And this evening she’s had
a change of heart and gave us permission to fill you in. Otherwise,
I wouldn’t be speaking with you now. She wants you to know what
happened.”

Well, isn’t that just dandy.

“Dude, you mean someone just called up and
told you all this crap and you didn’t get their name?” Rainy’s
forehead vein pulsates, like it does when she is uber-pissed. “What
the hell is up with that?”

Caleb puts his hand on Rainy’s to calm her.
For some odd reason, it works. Her vein slows and slithers back
under her skin.

The doc ignores Rainy and looks at me and
Grams. “She’s been moved out of ICU into her own room and has
requested to speak with you.”

Grams pushes her chair from the table,
causing the floor to scream as the metal legs scrape onto the tile.
She stands, hunched over and trembling. Evan springs out of his
seat to help her.

I don’t move. It feels like I’m in a separate
room, a room all to myself and that there is a thick pane of glass
between me and the rest of the world—contorted and squished in a
glass box with no air. Of course everyone stares at me. Who
wouldn’t stare at the freak in the box? Not everyone can take being
in such close quarters. Not everyone can bend into such a
monstrosity.

Even with chains holding me down, I feel safe
in the glass box. Safe from evil dream smashers and from those who
insist I face them. No one can touch me here.

Rainy’s mouth moves, but I’m in the box and
can’t hear what she says. Far away, muted voices speak calmly and
in a cryptic language. Grams turns toward me. Evan faces Caleb and
moves his mouth. As if walking under water, Caleb steps toward
Grams, replacing Evan at her arm.

Evan swims toward me. It takes an eternity
for him to move across the room and while he does I watch, content
at where I’m at even though my lungs are squished in between my
legs and head. Not much air in the box.

His expression doesn’t hold the judgment or
humor that most people would have when looking at such a show. His
blond hair hangs just above his clear wells of concern. I want to
brush it away from them, for it is obstructing the view. I know
him. I want him to break the glass and rescue me, to hold me in his
arms and protect me from the dream smashers.