Page 16 of That Summer

“Good. It seems to me my colleagues think discussing the actual accident will help, but that hasn’t been the case, has it?”

Her body rippled with a violent shudder. She’d been over the accident so many times, from different points of view, and yet, it never got easier to talk about. The accident had been her fault even though the drunk driver of the other car ran the stop sign. Had she been paying attention, her passengers could’ve lived. She shuddered again.

“I’d like to take a different approach. I want you to tell me about your feelings. Not during the accident, but after. What was going through your mind?”

Oh great, he’s one of those. A feelings shrink. Let’s discuss emotions. Gag. Looks like I’ll be seeing another shrink next week.

Her focus left him and searched out the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few full bookshelves. Framed diplomas hung on the wall. Vases full of what she presumed were fake flowers based on the level of dust. The furniture was more than a few years old and the table between them very weathered, its edges worn down. A lone tissue box decorated it.

“Does it bother you, me asking about after the accident?”

“There’s not much to tell. I was in the hospital, drugged up, trying to heal. People came and visited, more out of obligation I think than anything else.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because no one wants to visit a monster. They come once just to see the extent of the damage with their own eyes. Then they leave and don’t come back. After a couple of weeks, people just stopped coming around.”

“Are you saying you felt lonely?”

She glared at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Physically, you were recovering. Bones were setting and healing well?”

“I wouldn’t say that. My pelvis never healed right and now I walk with a bit of a limp.” She wanted to stand up and walk around just to prove it to him, but thought better of it and remained in her seat.

“Ah, yes. We’ll get to that. So, you’re in the hospital where your physical needs were being attended to. What about your mental needs? Did a psychologist ever come visit you?” His pencil tapped against his thigh.

“No, not that I’m aware of.” She leaned back, and re-crossed her legs.

“At no point during your stay?”

“I don’t think you understand how hospitals work. They treat you and street you. As fast as possible. There’s no hand holding. No comforts. Just heal and get out.”

“I hear the hostility in your voice.”

“You should.” She checked her phone.

Damn, we’re not even close to being done.

“It wasn’t the best time of my life. I missed my momma and sister’s funerals. I missed my high school grad. The hospital I was recovering in was four hours away, so none of my hometown friends came to see me, at least not right away.”

“Let’s discuss that. Who did come to visit you?”

Her throat cleared, and she frowned in his direction. “My boyfriend at the time. My daddy. A few family members. Some girls from high school, but that was only once. After seeing the sour, piteous looks on their faces, I told Derek to tell them not to come back for a while. I wanted to be me again, or whoever I was milliseconds before the crash.”

He reached for the note pad again, the eraser bopping against the paper. “And who was that?”

“Just a girl I once knew.” Images floated through her head from another time, another place. “She was popular without being popular, know what I mean? Everyone knew her, but she wasn’t part of any clique. She moved freely between groups, blending seamlessly into them as she wanted. She was a bright student, top of her class, heading into med school,goingto make her mark on the world. Change it for the better. Not the best athlete but she somehow made it onto the volleyball team, which made it into the city finals. Apparently they won gold in provincials, but she wasn’t there for that. Her boyfriend was Mr. Popular, the best singer in glee club and the leader of the robotics club. He gave up his graduation to stay by her side.”

“That was nice of him.”

“But it haunted him. I know it did. It was three weeks after my accident when he left. Three whole weeks. Twenty-one days.” Sadness consumed her. It was amazing, two years later and that sting still hadn’t left.

“If we may go back for a sec… When you talk about yourself before the accident, you speak in third person, and after the accident, you’re back to first person.”

A dull headache formed over her forehead and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “So?”

“It’s interesting. You talk about her like she was someone else.”