All For Anna (2 page)

I took a deep breath.
Looking around her office I avoided her gaze like the plague. Whatever game she
was playing, I would play it better.

“Fine, what would you
like to know?”

A cold, eerie feeling
washed over me as I spoke. I knew what I had to do
.

Stick to the facts,
Tori, just stick to the facts.

**********

“Well, first, I’d like
to get to know you a bit before we dive into the obvious. Can you tell me a
little about yourself and your family?” She smiled as she rolled her pen
between her thumb and index finger.

I swallowed hard and
exhaled once again.

“Well, as I’m sure you
know, I recently turned twenty-three. I’m an RN and have worked in the trauma
unit for the last fourteen months at Arizona Medical. I graduated from UT
Southwestern in the spring of 2010. I have a sister who’s five years older than
me and expecting her first baby at the end of the year, and my folks are both
real estate brokers in the area. I think that pretty much sums it up,” I said,
working hard to keep the cynical tone out of my voice.

“And your
sister…Stacie, is it?” she asked while looking down at my file.

I nodded.

“She’s the reason you
came back to Texas? Can you tell me a little about that? Why did you leave
Phoenix to move back here?”

“Yes, her husband
received a promotion in his company and had to fulfill a six month contract in
Australia. She asked me to transfer to Dallas and live with her during her pregnancy.
They have an extra room and offered to cover my expenses so I could pay off my
school loans. Stacie didn’t want to be alone and Jack isn’t scheduled to fly
back until she’s in her eighth month of pregnancy,” I answered without
inflection.

I felt pleased with
myself for throwing in those extra details where I usually wouldn’t. But I knew
that the more I added to this part, the less time there would be for questions
later—at least that’s what I hoped.

She looked at me for
what felt like an eternity and then said, “That sounds like a great offer. Were
you quick to say yes? Or, was this decision something you had to process
through when you decided to move back to Dallas?”

I never wanted to come
back here
.

“It was fairly quick;
my sister needed me. I wanted to help her.”

At least wanting to
help Stacie was the truth.

“How do you feel about
being near your parents again? You moved so soon after your graduation.”

Her tone was far more
accusatory than inquisitive.

I narrowed my eyes at
her. “It will definitely improve my commute to family dinners—so I suppose that’s
a plus.”

I wiped my wet palms on
my knees slowly shifting my gaze to the floor, wishing it would open up and
swallow me whole.

“Mm-hmm, I see,” she
said, adding more quick scratches on her note pad. “Victoria—may I call you
Victoria? Was your plan always to move to Phoenix after graduating from nursing
school?”

I froze for a moment,
not quite prepared for that question.

“I had several options
I was considering, but Arizona Medical Hospital was the best choice for me,” I
said, pushing down the truth that was burning in my throat. 

“When I reviewed your
file…it looked like you had already taken a job at our sister hospital in east
Dallas prior to your graduation—in Labor and Delivery,” she said, “Only you
quit just weeks later to be re-hired in Phoenix, in the Trauma unit, is that
correct?”

More information from
the traitor I assume.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Would that have to do
with what occurred the evening of April 9th, 2010, just eight weeks before your
graduation?” she asked, leaning in to help close the gap between us. Only it
wasn’t a gap, it was a chasm that stretched the three feet between my couch and
her chair.

I leaned back and
pressed my body against the cold, hard leather knowing full well the line of
questioning that was going to be asked next. I prepared for the mantra to come
out just as I had recited it in my head.

“On April 9
^th
,
2010, there was a bad storm and I was involved in a car accident that resulted
in one fatality.”

A light chiming sound
went off near the
Jumanji
plant in the corner indicating our time was
up. She didn’t move and neither did I as she said, “Next session I‘d like to
talk more about what your life looked like before the accident, Victoria. It
will give me a baseline to judge how you’re doing now.”

I stood then, turning
my head toward her.

“There is no before—only
after.”

And that might have
been the only
real truth spoken in that room today.

Commuting into the
heart of suburbia was going to take some adjustment on my part. I had grown
very fond of my little apartment in downtown Phoenix. It may have been cramped,
but it was just my style. Space was a luxury I did not require.

Pulling into my
sister’s driveway, I took a deep breath and prepared for the whirlwind of
questions she was sure to ask about my day. That was precisely why I had
already decided to get my running shoes on as fast as humanly possible. I
needed to think—or maybe not to think, I wasn’t quite sure which. Whatever the
case, one thing was certain: the pressure building inside me would soon explode
if I didn’t combat it first.

“Tori, is that you? I’m
so happy you’re home! I just got back from Home Depot and grabbed some swatches
for painting your room. I thought we could decide on a color together,” Stacie
said from somewhere in the monstrous upstairs, her sing-song voice filling the
house.

“Oh? And
who
will be doing this painting project, Stace?” I asked, mocking her. I knew the
response even before she answered.

Stacie may have décor
vision, but her inner D.I.Y. superstar got the pink slip a long time ago. The
girl couldn’t craft, color, paint, glue or finish any project without creating
a disaster zone. A few years back there was a sit-down intervention after she
glued her fingers to a messy Mod-Podge frame. We made her promise to let
someone else execute her design ideas from then on. I’m still unclear as to why
superglue had been a part of that equation.

“Very funny, I’ll hire
it out, I promise. Even if I
wanted
to paint, it’s against the pregnancy
rules. Hey, how did your last interview go?”

I climbed the stairs to
my bedroom where she stood waiting for me. Her short blond curls bounced as she
spoke. I looked beyond her into my room where several boxes and Hefty Bags sat
in the corner, needing to be unpacked.

“It was fine,” I
quipped.

One benefit of my small
apartment in Phoenix was there wasn’t much to move back. My room at Stacie’s
was large enough to fit nearly all of the contents that were once contained
within the walls of my old living quarters. From the doorway I could see my
couch, coffee table, TV, bed, desk, and dresser. I also had an attached bath,
fully equipped with a soaking tub, shower, and two sinks. Overkill? I think so.

“Do you ever give any
other answer than, ‘
fine’
?” Stacie asked, rolling her eyes.

“It was an interview,
Stace. Boring. Routine. It was...fine,” I said shrugging.

As I walked past her,
my heart tugged a little at the lie, but I didn’t want to talk. I
needed
to
run. I changed quickly and pulled on my shoes as she stood in the door frame
watching me curiously.

“What…are you doing?”
she asked.

“I’m going for a run.”

“A run?
You
? Is
that what you’ve been doing each morning before I’ve gotten out of bed?”

“Yep…sorry, I’ll try to
be quieter,” I said slipping past her into the hallway.

“No, that’s not my
point.” She turned and followed me as I made my way down the stairs. “When did
you start running, Tori? You
hate
exercise, you
hate
sweating…I
don’t even think you like nature!”

That’s the point
.

“People change, I guess,”
I said as I reached the front door.

“Well, I’ve been
meaning to tell you that your body looks really great,” she called after me.

Stacie was known for
her innocent quips and positive nature. Opening the front door, I shook my head
and smiled sadly. I could picture her standing in the entryway trying to figure
me out.

Give it up, Stace.
You’ll never figure me out. 

I can’t even do that.

I started to jog,
throwing my shoulder-length brown hair back into a ponytail. I could see a few
rogue pieces poking out of the side in my peripheral vision as I re-adjusted my
sunglasses. I picked up the pace. The September heat filled up my lungs and
burned my skin with its unforgiving rays. Texas was brutal, but so was Arizona.
If I could run there, I could run anywhere.

I rounded the corner
near the man-made pond in the middle of the neighborhood and saw a group of
children laughing as they ran through sprinklers. In the northern states, trees
were already losing their leaves, but in Texas, kids would be enjoying pool
days for at least another month. I watched the kids play and shove each other
over the water stream and instantly I was there again, sucked into the dark
places of my mind which blinded me from the present.

I can feel her limp
body in my arms, her small frame sagging under the weight of her blood and rain
soaked clothing. I see her mother stumbling out of the car in shock as she
moves toward me. She gasps for breath and then sinks to her knees, unconscious.
I push harder on the gaping wound that used to be the side of her abdomen—once smooth,
skin-covered, and normal. I won’t let go, I can’t let go. I know how to help
her! But then I’m lifted up—pulled away. The hands on me are too strong and I
am too weak to shrug them off. I struggle, screaming something...and then it
fades to black.

It is always the same, always.

Every pore on my body
was sweating.

I pushed on, propelling
my feet forward. I wouldn’t feel that pain again; I couldn’t feel that pain
again.

Why did Dr. Bradley
have to stir all this up? What is the point?

I was doing fine—managing.

I had been an excellent
employee and she knew as well as I did that none of this would interfere with
my job—I would never let it.

I didn’t even need her
recommendation!

I sincerely regretted
asking her for it now.

She spent all that time
gaining my trust, watching me work…only to sell me out to a shrink to “fix me”
in the end.

I slowed my pace,
wiping perspiration from my eyes. I realized the irony of that simple,
automatic gesture. Most people burdened by pain wiped away tears, but my pain
would only ever yield sweat.

I no longer had tears
to cry.

As I stood in front of Stacie’s
large, rustic front door, a reflection caught my eye within its framed glass.
For a moment, I couldn’t even place who this red-faced, athletic impostor was.
And then I saw it, the five inch scar that traced the side of my forehead and
curved its way down below my left temple: a permanent identification mark.

“Mom called you again,
Tori,” Stacie said the second I pushed open the front door.

I grabbed my water
bottle off the kitchen counter and chugged it until I had no breath left at
all. Stacie walked in.

“Dear God, Tori! You
look like—I don’t even know what! I don’t think running in this heat is
healthy.”

“Its fine…I ran
in…Arizona…I can…run…here…too,” I said, panting.

I leaned over the sink
and poured the excess water on my face and head.

“Well, okay. Just be
careful. Dehydration is a real thing, you know?”

“Really, Nurse Stacie?
Please enlighten me on the body’s response to dehydration.”

“Fine, sassy pants, but
don’t say I didn’t tell you when you drop dead from heat stroke one day.”

I smiled at her to make
nice, though we both knew who would win this battle of wits. “Well, in that
case I’d be dead, so I probably wouldn’t be sayin’ too much. What did Mom have
to say, anyway?”

Stacie rolled her eyes
at me as her hand rested on her growing baby bump. “She said we are invited to
a dinner at their place tomorrow night. There will be a few friends, lots of
cook-out food and the pool, of course. I may have accidently told her that you
weren’t scheduled at the hospital until Monday…which kinda turned into an
accepted invitation. I’m sorry, but she has called
three
times already!
I couldn’t keep making excuses for you.”

Stacie sheepishly bowed
her head. She lifted her eyes slightly to peek at my face, preparing herself for
a verbal beating. I was simply too spent to give her one, though. I laced my
fingers together and gripped the back of my neck, exhaling hard.