She blinks at me. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Well aren’t you full of surprises.” She flips her cane, holding it by the bottom tip, and uses the sharp hooked end to scratch her calf. “Something I’m proud of? Making the US Women’s Olympic Beach Volleyball team.”
My eyes widen. “No shit?”
She nods. “No shit.” She pulls her mane of red ringlets back from her face, holds it with both hands behind her head for a moment, and then releases the hair to fall around her face and shoulders. “I’m from LA originally. Grew up playing beach volleyball. Played indoor varsity in high school, as well as beach ball competitively. Once I graduated high school, I competed professionally. I had endorsements, the whole shebang. I was on track to be one of the best.”
I wait. She says nothing else, so I fill in. “And then the accident happened.”
She nods, not looking at me again. She uses the hooked handle of her cane to scratch and probe at her bad knee. “And then the accident happened.” She looks at me. “It was a freak accident. At the quals. Kelly and I had made it through, and we were celebrating. We’d gone out to eat, had a few drinks—there was a group of us. Me, my teammate Kelly, a couple girls from Ireland, a couple from Sweden. We’d all made it. After eating, we were heading…somewhere else. I don’t remember. A bar, maybe? Regardless, we were on the sidewalk, walking together, the group of us. There was a car accident.” She sets her cane on the floor, spins it between her fingers, watching the helix move in a twisting spiral. “In my memory, it happens in slow motion, mainly I think because it felt like it was happening in slow-mo at the time. I heard it first—the squealing tires, the horn, the smash. I looked, and I saw the car heading for us. It was a not-quite head-on collision, so one of the cars bounced off the other and was barreling right towards us. I was on the outside, a little ahead of the group, and Kelly was just ahead of me. And I just…I knew the car was gonna hit her. It wasn’t a conscious thought, I just…reacted, before my brain even knew what was going on. I pushed her out of the way and then I got hit. The bumper hit my knee and pinned it to the wall. It just…it fuckingdemolishedmy knee. I don’t remember pain, don’t remember much of anything, just being pinned, not able to move, laying on my back on the hood, one leg free, the other pinned between the car and the wall.”
“Jesus.” I shake my head, sighing. “The day you make the Olympics.”
“Literally two hours after qualifying.”
“Good fucking lord, Annika. I’m sorry.”
She nods. “Me too. But thanks. I almost lost it. The leg, I mean. It was so mangled, so fucking shattered that it wasn’t clear a reconstruction would even work. It was that or lose it and get a prosthetic. They told me there was achanceI’d get normal movement back. Not a good one, but a chance.IfI workedreallyfucking hard.” She laughs bitterly. “It quickly became obvious that wasn’t happening. And I…” she shakes her head. “I did not handle it well at all.” She barks a bitter, sarcastic laugh, making the comment an understatement.
“I guess that’s understandable,” I say. “A hell of a traumatic, life-changing event.”
She laughs again. “It’sunderstandable? Then you’re far too understanding.”
“Or you’re not understanding enough.”
“Nah, you’re too understanding.” She rests her head on the back of the couch, stares upward. “It took several surgeries and months of physical therapy just to be able to walk again. And I swear I fucking worked at it. Formonths. Just towalk. I used to be one of the top athletes in the world, and I was in tears just trying to take ten goddamn steps. My career was over. Gone. Done. Even if I did everything right and kept at it and fought like hell, I’ll never play competitively again.”
“Annika,” I start, but she cuts over me, keeps going.
“I didn’t see the point. I was too depressed. It hurt all the time. I got hooked on the fucking opiates they gave me to help with the pain. Fought that shit, quit cold turkey. But the pain was…you can’t imagine, unless you know from experience. Then I went to a party.” She thunks herself in the forehead with her cane. Not hard, just a gesture of frustration and recrimination. “I was out of my mind with pain, angry at myself, at life, at the world. Someone at the party handed me a pipe and told me to take a hit. I didn’t think twice. Just said fuck it, why not, and took a hit. Boom. Hooked. That turned into a fun little game where I’d try to quit the pills and end up on meth, then try to quit meth and end up on pills again. Around and around I went, for over a year. Blew through my endorsement money and became increasingly desperate as I ran out of money and got more and more hooked. Started doing unbelievably despicable shit just to get money for a hit. Wasn’t long before I alienated my mom and sister, alienated Kelly and everyone I knew from the volleyball world. Everyone. Except Gram and Grandpa. No matter what I did, they let me back in. And they’re the only ones I never stole from to feed my habit. I couldn’t. Not from them. I almost did. I stole some of Gram’s jewelry and was in the parking lot of a pawn shop. But I couldn’t do it. And she…she knew. She watched me walk back in, followed me to her room, watched me dump the shit I stole back in her box. And she gave me fucking hug and told me she loved me.” This is followed by a sniffle.
I shift closer. “Annika.”
“If you try and hug me right now, I swear I’ll hit you with my cane.” She says this in a small, tight, bitter voice that makes me keep my hands to myself.
“Maybe we put a little pause on the life story,” I say.
She lets out a slow breath. “No. It’s your turn. What are you proud of?”
“That psychology degree,” I say immediately. “Because in order to get it, I first had to catch up because my education stopped at whatever grade you’d be in when you’re eight.”
“Third,” she answers. “Why did your education stop there?”
“Because my parents were murdered when I was eight,” I answer.
She swivels her head on the couch, looks at me sideways. “No shit?”
“No shit.” I shrug. “Spent a few months in the foster system, but that shit wasnotit, so I ran away. That’s when I met Rev, who was an orphan like me, except he always had been. I had parents, I just lost ’em.”
“Both at the same time?”
I nod. “Yeah, mama. Both at once.”
She closes her eyes. “Ateight.”
“Yeah.”
