Forty
Finches
My crutches click loudly against the tiled hospital floors as I struggle to hop along the corridor. Everything still hurts, and all my bruises are starting to turn a nasty yellowish color, while the road rash is scabbing over nicely.
After my accident Olivia and I stayed in Florida a few more days to rest, cooped up in the hotel room, before attempting the uncomfortable five-hour drive back home. I profusely apologized for ruining our vacation, but she insisted I hadn’t.
Since the incident at the nursing home, my mother’s calls have been persistent, but I’ve blocked her number and dodged any unknown caller IDs to avoid her at all costs. I have nothing to say to her anyway. For a minute I was scared she was going to find out about my accident or find out which hotel I was staying at and hunt me down, but I haven’t seen her since the nursing home, thankfully. And I plan to keep it that way, as harsh as it may be.
Back at home now, Olivia helps me through the hallways of the hospital after completing the follow-up appointment with my doctor. He said everything is going to take time, but it should heal properly. As far as my football career goes, as I suspected, he doesn’t expect me to bounce back and be the athlete I once was, basically crushing any dreams I have of making it to the NFL.
A heavy rock of disappointment and uncertainty sits in the pit of my stomach as I scramble to figure out what the hell I’m going to do now. I know I’m going to graduate in a few months with my degree in exercise science, but I’ve honestly never given much thought about actually using it. I always pictured myself going straight to the NFL, not even needing my degree, but now I have to digest that’s not a possibility anymore.
Olivia walks beside me like someone who would walk with a toddler, tense and observant, ready to catch me in case I fall over. I don’t know how she expects to catch me though, given I’m twice her size.
Halfway down the hall, a voice calls Olivia’s name, and we both look over our shoulders, finding Cora coming up behind us.
Cora smiles. “I thought that was you,” she says, walking up to us and hugging Olivia.
“Hi, Cora,” Olivia greets her, hugging her back.
Cora glances down at her watch, her brow furrowing. “You’re early.”
Olivia lets out a small laugh. “Oh, no. I was going to run home first before I came back up for dinner,” she says, and I suddenly realize it’s Tuesday. “I’m here now for his appointment,” she clarifies, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
Cora frowns with worry, observing my injuries. “Oh my. What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” I admit.
“I’ll fill you in later,” Olivia assures her. “Let me just run him back home and I’ll be back up in about a half an hour or so.”
“That’s okay, baby. I can just wait around here somewhere while you guys catch up,” I insist, not wanting her to drive me all the way to the dorm just to come back here.
She frowns. “No, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
I smile, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be fine,” I promise. “You guys go enjoy your dinner.”
She still doesn’t seem sold on the idea. “Why don’t you come have dinner with us?” she offers. “Is that all right, Cora?”
Cora looks hesitant for a moment, and before I can insist on not wanting to intrude, Olivia speaks up, noticing the look on Cora’s face as well.
“It’s okay. He knows,” she tells Cora with a reassuring look.
Cora’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise before she turns almost sheepish. She clears her throat, looking at me as if I hold all of her secrets. But deep down I also see the gratitude behind her eyes, like a weight has finally been lifted off of her shoulders by having someone else know about her tragedy and accept her decision. I feel as though she has trust in me now, knowing her truth.
“Yeah,” Cora says definitively. “Let’s all have dinner together.”
The three of us head to the cafeteria, grabbing some food and sitting down. Olivia and Cora mainly engage in conversation. I accept being the third wheel and only cut into their conversation when prompted, letting them have their time together.
Conversation starts to slow once we’re all finished eating and an uncomfortable charge hangs in the air. Cora eyes me warily, almost unsure about something.
Olivia leans over and places a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s okay,” she reassures Cora before turning to me. “She’s just going to listen to my heart,” she explains solemnly.
I swallow thickly, nodding. I remember the first time I saw Olivia at the hospital with Cora and she was listening to her heart then, telling me this is a weekly ritual.
With a shaky breath Cora grabs the stethoscope draped around her neck and Olivia scoots closer to her. Cora puts the earpieces in her ears and positions the chest piece over Olivia’s heart, listening.
Cora closes her eyes, a pained expression crossing her face as she listens to her daughter’s—now Olivia’s—heartbeat. I can tell this is hard for her, that she’s reliving that day all over again in her head, the wound of her daughter’s death still not fully closed.
