<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d5982000\x26blogName\x3dWhere+do+I+go+from+here?\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://mikebox.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://mikebox.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-906998460830776098', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Chapter 2 Part 1

Chapter 2

Anne McUne had just fastened her seat belt when a thought struck her.
“I haven’t heard from Ray at all today,” she said to herself.
This was somewhat unusual for them. Ray would typically give her a call around three o’clock or so, but not today.
“Oh well,” she thought. “I guess I’ll just see him at home.

Traffic was heavier, more congested than usual that afternoon. On her way home from the office, Anne thought that several times the freeway resembled a parking lot more than a highway. Now, she came to a stop that lasted several minutes. She glanced in her rearview mirror. As she did, she ran her fingers through her long hair and brushed it away from her face.
Although she had just turned forty, Anne’s porcelain skin and flawless complexion created an ageless perplexity about her. She had sweeping curls of caramel hair with accents of sun-streaked highlights. Ray would not admit it, but they had been mistaken for father and daughter on several occasions.
Anne’s external beauty was only magnified by the kindness and compassion of her personality. To Ray, Anne was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Ann pulled her cell phone from her purse, which rested in the passenger seat of her mini-van. She hated driving a mini-van; it made her feel so ordinary and typical. Typical suburban mom.
Phone in hand, she speed dialed their home.
“Maybe Ray is already there,” she thought.

The phone rang.
Nothing.
Rang again.
Nothing,
A third time.
“Hello,” said the voice on the other end.
“Oh, hey Sissy. Is your dad home yet?” asked Anne.
“No, he isn’t.” McKenzie explained. “And he isn’t answering his phone either. I tried to call him earlier to see if I could go to Carrie’s to play.”
“Hmm.” Anne considered the possibilities. “Maybe he had a meeting with someone.”
But secretly she thought, “I hope everything is alright.” Then she spoke up again. “Well, I should be home in just a little bit. If he isn’t home by then, I guess we’ll send out the search party.”
“Yeah,” McKenzie laughingly agreed.
“Ok, well, I will see you in a bit,” said Anne.
“Ok, bye Mom,” replied McKenzie.
“Bye,” Anne repeated, and with that she put the phone back into her purse.


Lynn gathered the cups from the table and started to get up.
“Well, I need to get back to work,” she said
“Yeah, ok. I need to get going too,” Seth said, although he had no plans and nowhere special to be.
“Will you be in anytime soon?” asked Lynn, a bit awkward. “What is wrong with me?” she thought. “I am acting like I am in high school again.”
Seth squirmed in his chair, obviously getting uncomfortable. “Lynn, what are you trying to ask me?” he questioned her.
Now she was the uncomfortable one. “Well,” she started. “I had a really great time talking with you today. And well, I just…” she lost her words.
Seth leaned in and quietly asked, “You just what?” There was a tenderness in his voice that she was finding irresistible.
She relaxed a little and tried again. “I just want to know when I will, uh can, see you again.” She struggled a bit, but it was out. It was no on the table.
“That wasn’t so difficult. Was it?” Seth teased.
“Never mind,” she said, ashamed of her vulnerability.
He leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder. It was soft and gentle. Lynn started to feel as if she was melting.
“When do you work again?” he asked.
She looked up and caught a look in his eye that caused her heart to skip a beat and her stomach to flip-flop.
“Those bold blue eyes,” she thought.
“When do you work again?” Seth repeated.
“Oh, uh tomorrow. Morning shift.” She muttered, still partly in her day dream.
“I have to work tomorrow.” Seth said. “I will stop in on my way to work.”
“Ok,” she smiled. To Lynn, the smile felt as if it was literally from ear to ear. In actuality, Seth found it mesmerizing.
“See you then,” he said, then headed for the door.



Anne made it home about twenty minutes after hanging up with McKenzie. As she walked through house her chest tightened and she flushed with anxiety. She heard someone in the kitchen and went in to investigate. There she found McKenzie sitting at the table with the phone to her ear.
“Ok. Yeah. Ok,” she said, then looked up at her mother. There were tears in both of their eyes. “Here is my mom, she just walked in,” she then covered the mouthpiece with her hand.
She whispered to her mother, “It’s the hospital. Dad’s been in an accident.”
At this, Anne’s keys and purse slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. The contents spilled across the tile floor. A swell of fear mixed with nausea twisted in her stomach.
She took the phone from her daughter’s outstretched hand. With a quiver in her throat, she introduced herself.
“Th-this is Anne McUne. Is my husband alright?”


Darkness.
That was the last thing that Ray could remember. Now, nearly two hours later it was also all he could see.
He opened his eyes, but saw nothing. Pitch black. A black so dark and foreboding that his heart sank.
“Am I blind? Where am I? What happened?” he thought. There was so much panic in his heart that he wanted to scream. He heard something though. A strange buzz. A hum actually was coming from somewhere in this place. He searched through his memories for the sound.
“Fluorescent lights?” he thought. He became aware of other sounds. An electronic beeping was coming from just over his right shoulder. And now he could hear voices, as if on the other side of a door or wall. And there was a voice on a P.A.
“Doctor Reynolds please report to the E.R. Doctor Reynolds to the E.R. please,” the voice requested.
Ray the smelled it. The strange odor in the air; actually it was the strange lack of odor. Clean. Sanitary. Now that he was sure he was in a hospital, Ray wanted to know how he got there and why. But first, his attention returned to his eyes.
He reached with his right hand to feel at his face, but did not get far when an I.V. tube restrained him. He cautiously reached with his left hand. His fingers crept slowly across his mouth, nose and finally reached his eyes. They were bandaged, wrapped tightly with gauze.
Ray breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe I’m not blind after all,” he thought. Now that he had managed to calm down, he tried to shift in the bed. This was met with an instant stabbing pain. The piercing agony shot through both legs. He tried to feel at them, groping aimlessly, but could not reach.
“No matter,” he thought. “You know they’re broke Ray.”
He knew alright. As a high school athlete, Ray had endured his share of broken bones: his right wrist as a freshman, his collarbone the next summer, and of course the compound fracture of his left leg. That one happened during the homecoming football game of his senior year. The leg had snapped just below his knee when another player had hit him there during a tackle. The other player’s helmet had smashed into him so hard that Ray had blacked out.
There was a certain universal pain that accompanied a broken bone. Ray knew this and decided to try to lay back and relax until a doctor could come talk to him. But just then, he realized that there was another pain. He must have missed it earlier, but now it was creeping to the surface. He felt at his neck and ran his fingers across a C-collar.
“Did I break my neck?” he thought, then answered his own question. “No. You felt pain in your legs didn’t you? It must be just a precaution.” But there was still a pain in his neck.
“Must be whiplash,” he explained it away. Then he started remembering. Screeching tires. A car horn. Darkness.
And with that thought, he fell back to sleep.
|