Another flash, only three seconds to the crash. The rain began to splat against the window. Now he liked thunderstorms because they made him feel all safe and cozy, watching them from wherever he was. Dazzle and boom simultaneous now and he smiled. The light looked funny. There was too much air in the parking lot. Diane’s little silver pickup truck had been there a minute ago. The big ash tree wasn’t there any more. What the hell…
He drummed down the stairs and across the lot, head crooked against the rain. No idea what he was doing, except if the tree had fallen into Diane’s place, there’d be a mess and it would make him happy to help her. There was a mess, all right. The tree had crushed the pergola outside the office shed and partly buried the truck. Pots, baskets, dirt, flowers, plants were strewn among shattered gnomes and birdbaths. A splintered joist butted through the window, creaking tiredly in the wind. Jake ducked in through the door, calling her name.
She answered him from somewhere inside, her voice too high. He stepped on and around the broken glass on the floor, calling out, “Are you okay?”
“I’m in here,” she squeaked. “I don’t know…”
She was in the tiny bathroom, clutching the sink with one blood-gloved hand and pressing a towel to the back of her head. The little green towel was sticky and dark with blood. Jake took hold of the doorjamb and said, “Jesus.”
“S’okay,” she said, “Head wounds bleed like shit. I think I’m okay, can you see?” She took the towel away from her head, and the slice in her scalp wept blood into her hair. The cuts in her fingers leaked more blood into the towel, and he couldn’t even tell if the seeping stains down her back were from her head or more cuts. “Glad I had my back to the window,” she said. “But I think, maybe I need stitches?”
Jake had no idea. Pressure, he thought, yes, pressure on the wound, but there was so much blood. He poked Will’s number on his phone. He had to try a couple times before he got it right, shit, why didn’t he have him on speed dial anyway. Sunday morning, come on, Will, you’re just reading the fucking paper, pick it up, pick it up.
“Take her to the ER!” Will said.
“Her truck’s under the tree,” Jake said helplessly.
“Take your car, for Christ’s sake! My God,” said Will. “You think you can manage to find the hospital?”
“The one on Harrison street?”
“I know how to get there,” said Diane. Jake hung up. The rain had stopped. A weak wave of light, one two three four five six seven, a grumble of thunder.
Will
Well, he’d been right about the damn tree. He hooked the chain with the Closed sign across the entrance after he pulled in. He peered carefully in through the window at the mess in the office. He hauled a few branches aside and looked at Diane’s truck – not too bad, actually, roof and hood dented and scratched, but driveable. He took a couple pictures with his cell phone. He photographed the collapsed pergola, shots of the beam through the window, the wreckage of plaster and terra cotta and rattan and leaves and dirt now clotting and swirling into mud. He’d have to wait till they got back to shoot the inside. He piled up the corpses of broken gnomes and Venuses with more than their arms gone now, stacked the cracked birdbaths and laid the tangled wind chimes in a bucket. He lined up spilled pots and baskets for counting. He thought he better cover up that window, and thought there was some duct tape in the shop. As he turned to walk across the lot, he saw that boxy little red car of Morgan’s shoot out of the drive and swerve away up the road. Huh. Drives like a maniac. He taped a plastic dropcloth he found over the window. Then he tried to call Jake, but he didn’t answer. Well, he’d made a good start. He hoped Diane was okay. He’d offer to buy her dinner when she felt all right.
Jake
They were there for hours. She was such a sight they scurried her out of the waiting room pretty quick, but a tech came back out and told him they’d need to take xrays and stuff, then stitch her up, so he should go get a cup of coffee or something. He did and threw it out cold.
When they finally released her, she wandered out to him in her cutoffs and a hospital gown tied around her, carrying a plastic bag like she didn’t know what to do with it. He took it from her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “about the blood all over your car seats.”
“No worries,” he said heartily, “it’s all vinyl anyway.” He was afraid to touch her. There was a white wrapping around her head, white patches on her shoulder blades visible through the worn-thin fabric of the gown, a mitt of gauze around one hand and stapled seams in one arm that he couldn’t look at.
“At least they didn’t shave my head,” she said weakly.
“You wait here, I’ll bring the car around,” he said.
“It’s okay, I’ll walk out with you. I think the air will make me feel better.”
“Do you hurt?” he asked. She had to think about it.
“Not really, I don’t think so,” she said. “Just weird and woozy. Bet it will later, though. They said just Motrin if it does. They gave me instructions, I don’t know where I put them…” She looked helplessly at her hands. Jake unlocked the car and she looked up at him and said “Thank you.”
Diane
Poor Jake. He took me home. He was more freaked out than I was. He kept asking if I was okay, if I needed anything, and I kept saying yes, I’m okay, really, thank you so much. I mostly just wanted to get into my cool clean bed and go to sleep. My cat, Blackie Two-Eyes, stared at him and then let Jake pet him, which was a huge honor. Jake called his brother while I got out of those clothes.
“Will wants to know who your insurance agent is,” he called through the door. I couldn’t even remember the guy’s name.
“Will said he’d call him for you,” Jake said. “He said he got some of the mess swept up, got a tarp over the window, and he took a bunch of pictures for the insurance.”
Weird. I’d barely exchanged a word with Will Froehlich in three years. He always seemed basically a grump.
“I owe you guys big time,” I said. I didn’t know how many more ways there were to say thank you, and I really meant it.
“Listen, what if I come back later this evening? Just to make sure you’re all right? I could bring Chinese food or a pizza or something…” He was busily petting Blackie Two-Eyes, who was, amazingly, purring.
“You know, that sounds really nice,” I said. “And now I really need to lie down.” He stopped petting Blackie, patted my shoulder and practically ran out the door.
He woke me up when he came back.
“You’ve got a little color in your face back,” he said. “Did you sleep?”
“Like a log.”