All For Anna (4 page)

“Oh...right. Forgot I
was
announced
earlier,” I said.

I looked away to break
the awkwardness I felt standing alone in the dark with this stranger, a very
good-looking stranger at that.

“Was I in your way out
here?” His tone sounded amused, as one corner of his mouth lifted slightly into
a smile.

“No, I just…I just like
to take a little time to walk and enjoy the property when I come out here. This
is one of my-favorite spots,” I lied, but at least it made sense…
maybe
?

“Yeah, your parents
have a very nice property out here. It’s hard to believe that we’re only twenty
minutes away from Dallas. Feels like true Texan country.” His eyes searched
mine for longer than I felt comfortable, and I broke the gaze again to stare at
the dark ground, “Although, it’s got to be a kinda hard to
enjoy
it when
it’s too dark to see where you’re walking, don’t you think?” the man asked,
repressing a laugh.

I did not find his joke
funny, but I did find something else—my voice
.
Good looking or not, I
would not be his punch line.

Okay Tree Man…you’re
on.

“Well, I don’t really
need much light since I’ve been out here a thousand times. I can understand
though, how it might be a little harder for a guy who’s at a party for someone
he’s never even met until now. Excuse me; I need to go check on my guests.”

My voice shook and my
face burned from embarrassment as I turned away. As I headed toward the patio,
begging my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I thought I heard him say, “That’s
not entirely true.”

But I didn’t care to
banter with him, not at my expense anyway.

After another round of
hugs and false promises to stay in touch now that the prodigal child had
returned, Stacie and I left the party. I was utterly exhausted. And for the
first time since the accident, I thought about something other than that
horrible night while riding in a car after dark.

I thought about the stranger at the bridge.

After a lengthy process
at security, I left with my new hospital ID badge in hand and took the elevator
up to the 6th floor. Today was session two. My long weekend of thinking and
rationalizing made me realize these sessions were just a means to an end. If I
wanted to work—and I
wanted
to work—then I had to get through them.
Facts only, of course.

The first half hour was
filled with mindless information regarding my high school hobbies, my college
experiences, roommates and a lot more detail about my relationship with my
parents. At least the church history was easy enough—it was just that, history.
I was feeling strong, capable and apathetic as usual, ready to take on the
firing squad of questions that was sure to come next. Dr. Crane sat across from
me, her legs crossed. After busily scratching on her notepad, she looked up,
perfectly poised.

…and armed with her
secret arsenal.

“Victoria…I know it
must be difficult to talk about the events of April 9, 2010, but I want to hear
them from you—in your own words. Take as much time as you need and I will only
interject with questions if necessary. Please start prior to getting in your
car that night. Let’s just see how far we can get today. If we need to continue
at a later date we will.”

Her voice was gentle as
she spoke. I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to cause me to feel quite unsettled.
I rubbed my hands on my knees.

Despite all my
preparedness, the facts that circled in my head were difficult to separate from
the relentless dreams and flashbacks that had made this nightmare my constant
reality. It was a nightmare I had revisited every day for the past seventeen
months. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, shoving down the vividness
that had not lessened with time. My only goal was to try and speak from a place
on the sidelines.

You can do this, Tori…tell
her. Tell her the facts, then you can get back to work.

“It was a three day
weekend in April, eight weeks before graduation. I was working at Dallas East, and
studying for my Boards. That night was my sister’s birthday dinner held out at
my parents’ house in Middleton. I got off late, so I was running behind
schedule, but I made it in time for the dinner.”

Just in time to be
seated and avoid the dirty looks from my mother. She would see my tardiness as
rude, even though I had been awake for nearly twenty-six hours straight. She
had no clue that I had just aided in an emergency C-section where both mother
and baby were in critical condition when I left.

But there are no
excuses in the Sales house.

“The party went well
into the evening. After the cake and gifts, the guests started to leave. I had
only had one day off, and I really wanted to get caught up on sleep so that I
could study. When I left, I noticed a change in the temperature outside, but
chalked it off to the weird weather patterns of Dallas. About two miles down
the road, Stacie called and said there was a severe weather warning issued for
all Collin and Dallas Counties. She told me I should turn around and go back and
stay with them for the night.”

I paused; reflecting
for a moment on what was my biggest regret from that night, and likely my whole
life.

I had ignored her
warning. I did not turn around.

Why didn’t I just turn
around? I was too selfish and self-centered; I thought I was immortal.

Unfortunately, I was.

“But the roads and sky
were clear, and I saw no immediate threat. I just wanted to get home. I thought
I could get back to my apartment before the storm hit, but a few minutes after
I hung up with Stacie, I heard the sirens start.”

“The tornado sirens?”

“Yes. Just seconds
after I heard them I saw the first lightning flash, and then felt the rumble of
the thunder.”

I paused again. This
time it took longer to push the memory down and find the facts.

What were the facts?

“You’re doing great,
Victoria, please continue,” she said, leaning into my space.

The hail came next.

“The hail started. It
came down hard and fast. I slowed my car some, but the tornado sirens urged me
to find shelter as quickly as possible. The hail continued to get more intense
and larger in size. I thought it was going to come right through the roof of my
Honda. The buildup of hail on the ground made it slick and I couldn’t see
anything. The power on the road had gone out and I couldn’t even see the yellow
divider between the two lanes anymore. There was no shoulder to pull off to and
no shelter nearby.”

I shifted uncomfortably
on the sofa, rubbing my palms on my knees, creating friction.

“As I approached a
slight curve I saw the headlights of an oncoming car. I was trying to pull over
to the far right of my lane, but had barely started to slow when the back of
the oncoming car appeared out of the hail. It all happened so fast.”

Dr. Crane sat looking
at me intensely, no longer writing on her notepad. She waited for me to
continue.

“As my front bumper
slammed into the rear wheel of the driver’s side, both vehicles spun to opposite
sides of the road. I got out of my car the second I came to and crawled across
the road to the other vehicle. It had spun completely around and was pointing
back in the direction it had come from.

“The hail had shifted
back to hard rain when I reached up, opened the front passenger door and looked
inside. When my vision focused, I saw the driver slumped down in the seat,
unconscious. I crawled across the seat, assessed her injuries and was able to
support her neck with a jacket that I found on the floor. I looked in the back
and noticed the passenger door was ajar. That’s when I saw the empty booster seat.”

“Victoria...I hate to
stop there for today, but we are almost out of time and I have a patient right
after you. We can pick up there during our next session, but I am curious as to
your own injuries sustained that night. You said you
crawled
across the road?
Why was that, were you in shock?”

I still am.

“I didn’t care much
about my injuries. I’m a nurse, I’m trained to help others,” I said quickly,
the hardness of my tone breaking my voice.

“But you did have
injuries, correct?” she asked, again.

“Yes. I sustained two
cracked ribs, a laceration to my forehead along with a concussion, but nothing
major.”

I stared at my shoes,
not wanting to see any sign of sympathy or pity on her face. My injuries were
minor in comparison, but as we both knew, there was no comparison to death.

“I wouldn’t call that
minor,” she said, “And you still went after the other victims and treated them?
That sounds a bit heroic to me, wouldn’t you agree?”

Heroes don’t let
innocent children die.

The chime broke my
silence.

Dr. Crane snapped my
folder shut and took a deep breath, as if cleansing my aura from the room.

“I’d like to see you
back Friday morning prior to your shift. Please don’t let yourself shut down,
Victoria. I know this must be painful, but it’s an important step to retell the
details of what happened that night. It’s then that we can work through the
aftermath
.
I have spoken with your charge nurse, Meg Holt, regarding your schedule. You
are set to work three 12 hour shifts a week, rotating weekends like the others.
The only exception is, of course, no on-call hours or extra shifts until I sign
off. It’s important that you let yourself rest and reflect as we go through
this process.”

“And what process is this
exactly?” I asked, looking up for the first time.

I could not even begin
to contemplate what
four
days a week of no work would do to me. My brows
furrowed, pushing down the scream welling up inside my chest. I knew though, it
wasn’t meant for Dr. Crane.

It was meant for Dr.
Susan Bradley, my
friend
in question.

“Well, let’s get into
that on Friday, shall we? I’d rather have more time to discuss it with you
properly. Enjoy your first day back in Trauma, Victoria.”

I felt the pressure
rising again in my chest as I left her office. I walked quickly to the
restroom, once there I turned on the cold water. Soaking my hands and wrists, I
stared at the woman reflected in the mirror. I leaned in to examine the
aftermath
on my face. It was my scarlet letter, reminding me and everyone else of the
hideous debt that forever marked my life. No amount of powder or cover-up could
erase it entirely.

It
was
me now.

I closed my eyes,
seeing her again.

Anna
.

I brush her long,
blond, blood-stained hair off her face; her lips and cheek already swelling
from where she hit the ground just minutes before. She is limp and
unresponsive, and there is so much blood. The trauma that sought to tear
through her innocent body, however, had failed to mask her beauty. I have never
wanted anything as much as to see her breathe. I have never prayed for something
so hard.

I rip off my shirt,
using it as a compress for the wound on her side. I try in vain to do CPR. I keep
going until I can’t see, can’t hear, and can no longer feel.

And then I’m lifted.
The strong hands pull me up—pulling me off of her. I scream until my world goes
dark. I have failed.

I found my reflection
again in the mirror.

Only four more
sessions…and then I can bury this back down and never talk about it again…to
anyone.

The clock told me I had
exactly 45 minutes until my first shift started. I exhaled deeply and headed
toward the elevators. All first floor Emergency Rooms have the same general
look no matter which city in the U.S. one lived. Emergency was Emergency.

The smell greeted me
immediately, like a long-lost friend coming to visit. Other people might be
repulsed by the smell of hospitals—a mixture of sweat, urine, vomit, and bleach—but
to me it was
home
. My first couple of weeks would be spent shadowing a
senior Trauma RN while learning the protocols and layout of Dallas Northwest
Hospital. Due to my age, I was still considered “green” in the eyes of any
Emergency Staff team. To me that simply meant that saving lives could not be my
only purpose; I also needed to prove myself.

My “initiation” into
the ER in Phoenix was so far beyond anything I had ever seen or experienced
prior. I had done some work as a tech in Urgent Care during my first couple
years of nursing school. That was probably the only reason my resume and
application were accepted so quickly. That and the fact they were desperate for
help.

The supply and demand
for trauma nurses was well matched with its position as second highest trauma
city in the country. They didn’t seem to mind that I had been a CNA in Labor
and Delivery the year prior to graduating, nor did they question my drastic
switch from wanting to specialize in birthing babies, to stabbings, broken
skulls and overdoses.