My distorted reflection in the chrome grille increased in clarity as a hollowness of silence flooded my ears, drowning out everything but the percussion line of my heart.
The driver was staring ahead, his dark eyes looking through me.
He wasn’t slowing down.
The rhythm of my heart accelerated to what felt like the speed of the delivery vehicle bearing down on me. The paralysis of sound transferred into me as I became an observer of my own circumstance instead of an active participant.
No more family, no more aunties, no more cousins.
No Aunt Evelyn. No Uncle Michael. No Ma or Dad. No Marc.
Twenty-seven years alive and I’d finally found love. I had hoped being here would change my life.
No time left.
Here and now, in this beautiful city, I was destined to die.
Fate had decreed it.
Thirty-Four
No.
I’d never been one to follow directions. I wasn’t going to start now.
Defiance marked my presence in this world: it would guide me now.
I wasn’t dying today.
With a heave, I kicked my broken baggage forward. The front of the van hit the hard shell of the suitcase as I was thrown to the curb, landing heavy on my hip and arms. My luggage burst open, scattering my clothes everywhere, a palette of colors fluttering in the wind before settling across the crosswalk in a swirling pattern.
Throbbing pain radiated from my bruised and bloodied hip and forearms as my heartbeat drummed against my rib cage. I pushed myself into a sitting position. All around me, strangers’ mouths moved, but I couldn’t comprehend them. There was only a high-pitched ringing.
Everything was out of focus, as though reality had motion blur applied, no discernible shapes, only blobs of color overlapping one another like dollops of paint on a wooden palette. The smearing, shifting pigments churned my stomach.
With a shaking hand, I picked up my phone with its cracked screen, found my aunt’s contact information, and handed the damaged device to a woman in white. As she took the phone from me, I burst into tears, my chest heaving from the trauma and of what could have been.
* * *
* * *
The American Hospital of Paris felt the same as a hospital back home in Palo Alto. There was comfort in the familiar aesthetic even though everyone spoke French. I was kept overnight for observation.
Aunt Evelyn had hovered by my bedside last night but said little. Curled in an uncomfortable vinyl chair beside me in the semi-private room with knees drawn to her chest, she still slumbered. Her breathing was soft and steady. My sleep had been restless, and I had the luxury of a bed.
“Auntie?” I called out.
She stirred. Wisps of dark hair escaped her elegant updo. Her complexion was pale. She sat up, straightened her blouse and hair, and crossed her legs at the ankles. Only my aunt could look elegant in a hospital room.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
My skin stung from the cuts, and my left hip ached. “Grateful to be alive.”
“The doctor says you have a bruised hip flexor. One to four weeks to heal.” She pointed to a wicked curved scar near my right elbow. “The stitches are dissolvable so you don’t need to come back to have them removed. It will leave a mark though. Considering the alternative, I imagine it’s something you can live with.”
I touched the bubbling, pink skin and ran my fingertip alongside its three-inch length. A new gruesome story for my nieces and nephews. They’d eat it up.
“They gave me a prescription for the ointments to help you heal. And, fortunately, no concussion. The doctor mentioned you’ll be discharged today,” my aunt added. “Depending on your level of soreness, you may need a cane for a while.” An aqua-blue cane leaned near the door—it looked like a question mark with a small, stable base. Subdued, but probably the most fashionable option available.
“Thank you, Auntie.”
Despite our differences we were family. No disagreement could divide us. With what had transpired, with how close it had come to ending, clinging to a grudge felt childish. “Auntie, I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry. I don’t want to argue anymore.”
She reached over and held my hand. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry too. I don’t like fighting with you either. Sometimes I wonder if we squabble because we’re so different or because we’re so alike.”
“Maybe it’s a little of both.”
“After you left, I thought about what you said. I’ve never known anyone who so soundly rejected our gift. I found my calling when my training began, and expected the same for you.”
“I know you’re disappointed. I understand there are benefits, not everything we see is bad, but it’s never been something I wanted, Auntie. I desire neither the power nor the burden.”
She nodded. “I can’t force you to make my choices. However, I’m not sure where that leaves you.”
“Do you remember seeing the tire tracks the shattered glass made after I lied? Was it a prediction about this? What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure, but we can deal with that after you come home with me. That is, if you want to.”
Her uncertainty touched me. She gave me an out. I could decline and ask for more time to myself, but I didn’t want to be alone.
“Of course I’m coming home with you. I love you, Auntie.”
Aunt Evelyn kissed my forehead. “I love you too.”
“Now that it’s settled, can you get me out of here?”
“I’ll go get the doctor and see to getting you discharged,” she replied with a laugh.
Thirty-Five
It was afternoon by the time we arrived at the tea shop. Aunt Evelyn chose not to reopen with only three hours left in the day. She sent all the dirty clothes to a dry cleaner and salvaged the unblemished ones, running a full load in the washing machine at the apartment.
“Have you told Ma yet?” I asked over a cup of honey ginger tea at the kitchen table.
Aunt Evelyn bit her lower lip. “I haven’t. I know I should have, but knowing Linda, she would have taken the next flight out. After I found out that you had minor injuries, I decided not to. I didn’t want to worry her. We have it handled and we can tell her later. Besides, it’s their special mahjong tournament. I don’t want to interrupt that.”
“Have you ever gone to one? Ma always raves about how much fun she has.”
“They always invite me, but I always decline.”