We had quite a way to walk back to our car, and I was ready to get the hell away from Carleigh’s friends. I couldn’t wait to get back to the house so they could hop in Sharon’s car and roll out. They had been talking about hitting two or three clubs later that night. Good for them; that meant I could have some quality time with Carleigh. Things were still tense since I’d found out about the birth control pills. Even though we were back on track and planning to have kids as soon as possible, I was still struggling with that betrayal. What upset me most was her taking the choice away from me when I might actually have agreed with her decision. It should have been our decision and not hers alone.
“Honey, Sharon and Jordan want to know if we can stop by Jin for a drink before we head home.”
I gawked at Carleigh in disbelief. The three of them were standing there on the grass near the parking area waiting for my reply.
I took Carleigh’s left hand into my right. “Baby, I thought we were going to spend tonight alone. We hung out with your friends. Now it’s our time.”
“Just one drink.” She pouted. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
Jordan suppressed a laugh and I rolled my eyes at her.
“It’s Labor Day weekend,” Carleigh added. “Let’s hang out and have some fun.”
“Why can’t your friends have fun on their own? Or with their men?” I paused, then went in for the kill. “Oh, that’s right. They don’t have any men, except the ones who drop by to fuck them and then bounce.”
“You know what?” Jordan said, stepping closer to me with much attitude.
“I know your breath reeks,” I answered. “Other than that, I don’t know anything about you, nor do I care to know.”
“Fuck you, Damon,” Jordan hissed.
“No, you can’t fuck me and that’s the problem. You wish.”
Sharon jumped in then. “Can you two stop acting all childish? This shit ain’t that damn serious.” She turned to Carleigh, who had let go of my hand and now had her arms crossed defiantly across her chest. “Carleigh, let’s head back to your place and then Jordan and I can come back down to Jin.”
“It makes zero sense to go all the way out to Wheaton and then have to come back down to Fourteenth and U when we’re right off Sixteenth. Damon is being difficult,” Carleigh said.
“I’m being difficult?” I shook my head. “You asked me to come out here with them and I agreed. I even offered to drive so we wouldn’t have to bring two cars. Now, because I was being nice, you want me to continue to cater to them. Damn, no good deed goes unpunished.”
Carleigh started trying to gratify her friends’ emotions instead of mine by telling them I would change my mind by the time we got to the car. That she would talk to me about it. She was whispering like I couldn’t hear every word; like I wasn’t even standing there. It was totally disrespectful, and I wasn’t about to change my mind either. We were headed out to Wheaton, which was less than fifteen minutes away, and not two or three hours like she’d tried to make it sound.
I spotted her again. The woman in red. The one from the gym. She and her friend were headed straight in our direction. Our eyes met, then she looked away. She must not have remembered me. It wasn’t like we had ever spoken. They were less than ten yards away from us when she glanced back at me and smiled. Beautiful smile. Beautiful eyes. It wasn’t a flirtatious smile; merely a “How are you doing today?” smile. I smiled back, still wondering why I was so drawn to her.
“Sharon and Jordan are going to the bathroom,” Carleigh said, as they walked off toward the outside restroom facilities. “While they’re gone, we need to hash this out.”
“There’s nothing to hash out.” I watched the woman in red as she said something to her friend. Then her friend in the halter top and shorts walked off toward the bathroom as well, and the woman in red came even closer to us. She was probably planning to stand in the same general area to wait for her friend to come back. She was less than five feet away from us when someone screamed.
It all happened so quickly. The screams … the headlights … the expression of terror on Carleigh’s face … the reflex to save her life … the impact … the pain … darkness.
Brooke
September 3, 2007
Providence Hospital, Washington, D.C.
MY head was killing me; literally. Not the kind of tolerable pain that some Motrin or Tylenol can knock out, but the kind of pain that made you yearn for certain death. Then it hit me. Where the hell was I?
I fought to open my eyes, and a bright light flooded down from the ceiling, causing me to wince before struggling to steady them. I could hear beeps and suction noises coming from the machines surrounding me. I realized that my leg was elevated in a cast, and all kinds of tubes with liquid were running in and out of different parts of my body.
The hospital, I thought, trying to remember what had happened before everything went black. The concert … Destiny went to the ladies’ room … a big-ass SUV …
I darted my eyes and found the call button for the nurses’ station. I tried to maneuver to reach it, to no avail. A sharp pain shot through my leg and all the way up to the top of my cranium, which was already killing me, literally.
Right then, a male nurse came into my room. “Ms. Alexander, don’t try to move.”
I tried to speak but only a gurgle came out of my mouth.
He looked down at me and compassion was in his eyes. “Wait one second. I’ll go get the doctor and a pitcher of water. Don’t try to speak yet. Your mouth is bone-dry.”
I lay there as told, waiting for him to return. It took less than five minutes before he came back with a female doctor in tow. “I’m Dr. Hackett. Glad to see you’re back with us. A lot of people were worried.”
The nurse adjusted my bed so my head was elevated enough to sip some water through a straw. I watched Dr. Hackett take my pulse and check on some levels on the various machines. When I felt like something other than garbage might come out of my mouth, I asked, “What happened to me?”
She stopped what she was doing and gazed into my eyes. “You were in an automobile accident … at the Carter Barron Amphitheatre. Do you remember anything?”
“I remember going to the blues festival … with my friend Destiny.” I suddenly jerked in the bed. “Is Destiny okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s been keeping a vigil by your bedside with your parents for the past two days. Wonderful young lady and a very caring friend.”
I was trying to wrap my mind around her having said “two days.” “I’ve been unconscious for two days? No wonder my head is hurting.”
“We’ll get you some pain medication for that. It’s to be expected. You suffered a concussion that caused you to lapse into a temporary coma. We’ve done several brain scans and everything appears to be fine.”
I glanced at my leg. “It’s painfully obvious that my leg is not fine.”
“It was fractured in two places, but it seems to be healing nicely. All in all, you are a very fortunate woman. If that young man hadn’t pushed you out of the way, chances are it could have been fatal.”
“Young man?” I sat up farther, despite the pain. “What are you talking about?”
“He saved your life.”
Destiny entered my room less than an hour later. Both the doctor and the nurse were gone, having left me so the pain medication could kick in.
“Aw, look at you,” Destiny said giddily. “Wide-awake and looking like sunshine.”
I gave her the finger. “Kiss my monkey!”
“Please, I ain’t your man. I don’t kiss snatch.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “A peck on the cheek is all you get from me.”
After she sat down, I asked, “Can you believe this shit?”
“I don’t have to believe it. I was there.” She sighed. “It scared the hell out of me. One second I’m taking a leak in the bathroom, and the next second I’m watching you flying up in the air and landing damn near at my feet.”
“But … but … what the hell happened?”
“This crackhead lost control of her vehicle and started using the crowd as bowling pins. It’s been all over the news. Nineteen damn years old. I’m telling you. The entire world is headed to hell in a handbasket.”
“Is she locked up?” I asked, getting angrier with each word that left Destiny’s mouth. “She needs to be up underneath the jail.”
“She might still be in the hospital. Some of the people decided to open a can of whup-ass on her before the police got to her.”
I could see the guilt written all over Destiny’s face. “You wouldn’t happen to have been some of the people, would you?”
She glanced away from me at the window. “Maybe, maybe not. I may have gotten a good kick or two in.”
“Destiny!”
“Brooke, you would’ve done the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot. Besides, there were officers on the scene because of the concert. It was only a minute or two, and some other people beat her way worse than me. I had to damn near fight them to get in on the action.”
My anger began to subside, and something about me felt sorry for the girl; even though she was the cause of it all.
“How many people did she hit? Did anyone get killed?”
“About twenty-five people got injured, but no fatalities, thank heaven. A lot of broken bones and shit. And then there’s Damon.”
“The Damon who pushed me out of the way? The doctor and nurse mentioned him but didn’t give me many details.”
Destiny grew really quiet.
“What happened to him? Is he dead?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not dead, but …”
“But?”
“They had to amputate his arm.”
We sat there in silence for a minute.
“They said he saved my life. Are you telling me that the only reason he got hurt was trying to shield me?” I finally asked.
“He pushed you and his wife out of the way. He saved her, too.”
I stared at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to feel sorry for.” Destiny pulled her chair closer and caressed my hand. “See, this is why I wish you never had to find out. I know how you are. You’re going to feel responsible and somehow put a ‘this is all my fault’ spin on an incident that was out of your control.”
“He lost his arm … because of me.” A tear cascaded down my right cheek. “How can I live with something like that?”
“Brooke, you were merely a side reflex to what the man would’ve done anyway. A man will instinctively attempt to save his woman; at least a real man will. This proves that chivalry is not altogether dead, like it seems these days.”
“So, did his wife get injured?”
“No, he took the brunt of the impact. What happened to you was that when he pushed you out the way, and the SUV hit him, he was thrown into you and you flipped up in the air and then landed on your leg … and your head.”
“Oh no!”
“I heard your leg actually snap into pieces. It’s a miracle that you didn’t lose it, like he lost his arm.”
“Are he and the others here, in this hospital? I want to thank him.”
“The girl who ran your asses over was here, but I believe they moved her to the infirmary at the jail. Who gives a damn?! I believe Damon was flown to George Washington. He’s not here. I know that for sure.”
“So how do you know so much about him?”
“I only know what they’ve said on the news and in the papers. I’ve never met him … but I have seen him before. So have you.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean I’ve seen him before?”
“Before that day.” She released my hand, stood up, walked over to the window, and opened the curtains. “Let’s bring some of the outdoors indoors. This place is depressing.” She turned and looked at me. “Remember that day when I met you at the gym? The one and only time I met you at the gym?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“He was Mr. Fine, the one in the white wifebeater we were checking out.”
My mind raced. The man who was smiling at me right before everything went crazy. The one that I smiled at first because he seemed familiar. The attractive man from the gym. Oh my goodness!
Damon
September 15, 2007
The George Washington University Medical Center, Washington, D.C.
THEY said you can go home on Monday.” Carleigh was sitting beside my bed, a mere shell of the woman that she used to be before the accident.
“Great!” I feigned a smile. “Did you let the office know that I need a couple of months before I return to work?”
“I don’t know why you insist on going back to work period, rather less so soon.”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
Carleigh glared at my shoulder and then at me. “Damon, you lost a fuckin’ arm. You’re disabled.”
“You use that term like it’s a dirty word, Carleigh. My arm is gone, not my mind. I’m still the same man.”
Carleigh started crying again—a daily occurrence. I couldn’t stand to see her in so much agony, but I was dealing with my own issues. As much as I wanted to pretend otherwise, I was devastated that a part of me was lost because of someone else’s stupidity.
Lisa Grant, the young woman who had abused crack to the point of making an SUV a weapon, was facing numerous charges, and her life was pretty much ruined. At least she still had all of her limbs. She had been banged up pretty good in the crash and the crowd had attacked her, but she had fully recuperated. Unlike the other two dozen or so people who were all dealing with the aftermath, Lisa Grant made a choice that none of the rest of us had.
“Baby, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” I told Carleigh. “I’ll be fine, and Bobby and Steve said they were coming through later.”
“Are you sure?” I could tell that the thought of getting the hell out of my hospital room excited her. “I can stay until visiting hours are over, if you need me to.”
“I’m okay. All of you don’t need to baby me. My parents are in here constantly and so are my friends. I appreciate all the attention, but—”
“You don’t sound like you appreciate it!” Carleigh snapped at me. “You blame me, don’t you?”
“Blame you for what?”
She pointed at the bandage. “For that! I didn’t cut off your arm, Damon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. None of this is your fault. A drug addict did this to me, and everyone else. How could you possibly believe it’s your fault?”
Carleigh swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. “Somehow, some way, I know that you’ll eventually blame me for this.”
I tried to put myself in her place. How would I have felt if she had lost a limb trying to protect me? I quickly decided that I would have blamed myself for her getting hurt.
“Carleigh, look at me, baby.” When she planted her eyes on mine, I said, “I understand how you must be feeling right now, but you have to believe, we both have to believe, that everything happens for a reason. I cannot begin to explain the purpose behind what happened, but there is one.”
“That’s ridiculous, Damon. There was no purpose to this.” She stood up and started gathering her things. “There’s no justification for that little girl’s actions. She was strung the fuck out on drugs and had no business being behind the wheel of that truck.”
“No, she didn’t, but you and I are spiritually mature adults. We attend church every Sunday because we know that there is only one powerful being in the universe. We were all brought together, in that park, for this to occur, because He wanted it that way.”
“So how does that help us now? How does that help us cope with this?”
“People suffer loss every day, different kinds of loss. I’m alive and I’m grateful for that. Can’t you be grateful for that, too?”
“I’m grateful that you didn’t die, Damon. If you had died, they would??
?ve had to bury me right along with you. I wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. Your death, and because of me? No way.”
“Well, you don’t have to deal with that. I’m not going anyplace.” I tried to sit up higher in the hospital bed, but cringed in pain.
“Damon, don’t try to overdo it like you’re Superman. The doctors already made it clear that you have a long road to recovery.”
“I realize that. They gave me a pamphlet from the National Limb Loss Center. It’s in the drawer.”
Carleigh couldn’t hold back any longer. The floodgates opened and she broke out into a full-fledged wail. Then she collapsed back into the visitor’s chair.
“Baby, I’m still your husband, minus one arm. That’s it. Nothing’s going to change.”
“Everything’s going to change. You loved to work out at the gym every day. You were so vibrant and full of life.”
“And I can still work out at the gym and I am full of life. None of my aspirations have been altered. I still have my career. I still have my website.”
Carleigh let out an audible gasp.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What, Carleigh?”
“I can’t believe that you’re lying there worried about that stupid website. That should be the least of your concerns. It’s a joke.”
“What makes it a joke? You might find all of my hard work humorous, but I don’t. I will make thelastgoodmen.com profitable. Very profitable. If you don’t want to support my efforts, cool.”
Carleigh wiped away the last of her tears. Now she was getting irate. “Look at us. Sitting here arguing about something irrelevant.” She reached over from the chair and took my remaining hand. “You’re going to have to learn to write all over again. You were right-handed.”
I forced a grin. “I had to learn to write the first time, so we both know I can do it.”
Finally, a smile out of her. “We also both know that your handwriting looked like gibberish, so hopefully you’ll do better this time.”
I laughed. “Go get you some rest.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”