Flashbacks

Yesterday, I took Tim for another back procedure.  On the ride home, he asked me if I'd minded waiting so long or if I'd been happy to have so much uninterrupted time to do my art.  I smiled sheepishly.  Oops, my secret is out- drawing and painting lately is my only joy.  He then told me he thought some of my art was really good.  He caught me a little off guard with the compliment; I didn't really think he paid attention, other than the  hard to miss runs to Hobby Lobby and Michael's for supplies.

"You know I've started putting pearls on all the girls I draw, and sometimes a little Cory-heart on their necks."  I offered.

"Really?  That's nice."  he commented.

Driving down the highway, I decided to share a little of my logic with him.  "Don't you think it's amazing that her pearls were the only thing that stayed intact?" 

He turned to me, shocked, why "You mean she was wearing them the day of the accident?"

Arrow to the heart, here.  How could he not know that?  "Yeah, you didn't know that?"

"How would I know?"  he responded.

"Umm, she was wearing them the first time we went to see her at the funeral home.  Those, and all her bracelets.  They left them all on her.  Remember?"  I asked.

"I guess I didn't."  he admitted.

"She hadn't worn them in months.  When I got home with the stuff for the tacos, she came out to help me bring the groceries in and I saw she was wearing them.  I said, 'Cory-Girl, you're wearing you pearls!  I thought you'd forgotten them.'  She said, 'Mom, I could never forget my pearls.'  So I said, 'Well, they look beautiful.  You look so cute today.'  And she said, 'Thanks, Mom.' and smiled.
Remember how her and I traded necklaces at the service- I kept her pearls and she kept my dragonfly pendant?" 

"She really liked that dragonfly pendant?"  he asked.

"Yeah, she loved it.  She wanted one so bad, and I was planning to surprise her with one after I went back to work.  There just wasn't time."

"So those pearls, for them to stay strung and intact when all her other jewelry was in pieces...they were really strong.  My girls that I draw...they can be sad, but I want them to be strong."  I said.

"That's cool, honey."  he offered.

And just like that, the conversation was over.  But in my mind, I had unwittingly triggered myself back to the road.  The chain of thoughts went something like this:  pearls intact, on her neck, her neck was broken, and her arm, her twisted arm, two broken hips, my baby broke her hips, I let her get hurt, oh my God, her lips were blue, they were so blue, her hair covered her face, she was face down, why isn't anyone doing anything??

In a few seconds, the images had stopped becoming memories and started to become real time.  Still driving down the highway, a sedate 70 miles per hour, I could see a shuffle of still frames that clicked by faster and faster (ambulance lights flashing, bystanders gently, but firmly, holding me back, rescue workers firing questions at me as I screamed Is she breathing? between every answer that my rattled brain struggled to find, dirt on her legs, her eyes closed, the horrible fear that swallowed up my heart as they finally turned her over, revealing her too still face bare tortuous degrees at a time) until they became a moving picture, and I could have easily just run up on the scene in my red t-shirt and shorts, my heart galloping out of control in my chest, looking, desperately looking, unable to see her at first until I saw bystanders who were busily trying to find a way to shield the mess from the rubberneckers that were driving by.  Was it a wading pool or a piece of tarp that someone held up?  That part was fuzzy.

Tim looked up with alarm as I casually whapped myself on the head a few times.  Stop, just stop, for the love of God...wasn't once enough?
"Hey, hey...honey, don't do that."  he grabbed for my free hand.

"Talk!  Talk!  Please talk about something!  Anything!"  I begged, breathing hard and the tears welling.  Broken neck...skull fractures, front and back, a broken arm, and two broken hips...broken neck...multiple skull fractures- front and back, a broken arm, and two broken hips...broken neck...multiple skull fractures...

"I wonder if Jake and Jackson at that barbeque pork we left for them or if they just filled up on donuts.  What do you think?"  he asked.

"Umm..."  I tried to answer, but was lost to the sight of my mom getting out of her car as fast as her legs could carry her and making it only a few feet before I had screamed out the awful truth, causing her knees to buckle.  "Noooooooo!  Oh my God!!!!!!  Noooooo!"  she screamed, her face which had been a map of worry seconds before becoming a portrait of horror as she discovered that sometimes nightmares are real.