Before it happened, I’d been on my lunch break. I’d had a taste for ice cream, I know it’s an odd choice for lunch, but I craved nutty banana
chocolate chip crunch, my alltime favorite flavor. Ninety degree Nevada heat was ideal for a sinfully sweet, icy cold, high calorie treat. So I headed to Nelly’s Ice Creamery.
As I approached the curb and waited for the light to change, I noticed him immediately. He stood motionless, like a mounted statue, on the curb directly across the street from where I stood. I’d never seen him before, and I was certain of that. If I had, I would’ve remembered those eyes, shimmering steel. When our eyes met, they locked for a brief moment. It had been brief because I was nervous and unsure, as usual, with having the unworthy attention of a good looking guy, so I shied away. But his presence tugged at me, with a luring gaze, for some unknown reason, and drew me in like a magnet. His eyes were unwavering, and my nerves were like a tangled mess of electrical wires with the awareness of this mysterious guy appraising me. I hadn’t known what to do with my jittery and uncooperative hands. His inscrutable expression had made me uneasy.
He must be looking at someone behind me, someone who could capture the curiosity of someone who resembled such striking beauty as he did, I had thought. But when I turned around to investigate, there’d been no one standing remotely close to me. I had held this mysterious guy’s interest, with no clue as to how to handle the stupefying situation. He reminded me of someone… someone so irresistible and exquisite that had captivated me while I slumbered, but it wasn’t him. The differences were staggering. The eyes were wrong. They should be as clear and blue as the ocean, and as warm as melted butter spread on a freshly baked muffin. The lips should be inviting, and not pursed and void of any expression. The skin would have been tan, and not pasty. As I regarded him now, I wondered what it had been that first made me think of the lover from my dreams.
This guy didn’t look like the boys I went to school with; wholesome, yet regrettably ordinary. He’d blend in a small town like Nickel City about as much as a shiny silver spoon would in a drawer full of plastic ones. He certainly stood out on a sweltering hot day like this, dressed in all black, from his fitted buttoned down shirt to his metal tipped cowboy boots. His jet black hair had shone in the brilliant afternoon sun, and his thick eyebrows framed his handsome face. Although he stood across the two lane street, his eyes had shimmered like melted titanium. His delectable lips had me desiring one thing – to be kissed.
Possibly new in town, I’d expect, or visiting – probable. But a fresh face would’ve provoked frantic chatter regarding where he and his family were from. His stunning features wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. If he was a transfer, the entire student body wouldn’t have the power to contain themselves.
The girls would be swooning and hoping for a second glance while the guys would resent him, becoming obnoxious due to all the attention he’d be enjoying from the girls.
People milled around us, but it was as if we were the only two beings in the universe. At least that’s what it felt like to me. I had wanted to stop staring, but succumbed to his trance. Somehow, and from somewhere, I had mustered the courage to smile, but instantly regretted it. His ambiguous expression hadn’t broken, and he had the nerve to keep staring at me. My cheeks had become flushed, and the banging in my chest became erratic. I had turned away, and fixed my eyes on the wood planks surrounding me. He must think I’m some kind of grinning idiot, I had thought, but that's what we small town folk did when a new face appeared. It was our way of welcoming the newcomer, so they would feel at ease when spilling their life's juicy details, which would be spread like peanut butter throughout Nickel City.
After what had seemed like a torturous eternity, the streetlight finally changed. I needed that ice cream more than ever now. I wanted to expunge this guy from my memory, obviously a jerk for snubbing me. I had required a deep breath to gather myself so that I could concentrate on not looking at his irresistible face. I proceeded to cross the street. I don’t think I had taken three full steps before gazing up at him again. I realized then that he hadn’t taken one step forward, and still stood motionless on the curb as if he intended to wait for me there. For the first time since I had seen him, I noticed the menacing look which gripped me in those platinum eyes.
I had already been halfway across the road when I heard the earsplitting horn blare. Unable to tear my eyes away from the mysterious stranger, I never saw the jeep approaching me at an accelerated speed; I had only heard the blasting of the horn. When I finally broke the stare, which felt more like a spell, I turned just in time to see the drivers’ face. A resounding gasped escaped my lips. The driver was the guy with the liquid steel eyes who had captivated me for the early part of my lunch break.
But how did he get into that car, and what happened to those beautiful eyes?
From behind the windshield, he glared at me wickedly with glowing crimson eyes, intent on killing me. Paralyzed where I stood by his perverse smile, I was too late, and the silver jeep plowed into me. The crush of my bones had echoed in my ears as the air in my lungs exploded out of my mouth.
I was in the air in a matter of a second, and dead the next.
“Dead on impact” I had heard a man say.
Right now, as I stare at myself in macabre, the weather seemed to react to my death. Gloomy clouds rolled onto the cerulean blue sky like shaken dice, masking it in several shades of gray. The rumbles of thunder seemed to protest my demise. Groups of people, layers of them, gawked at me in shock from the balconies above the shops and saloons. I wasn’t sure if it was the cluster of thunder, or the wailing siren of the sheriff’s cruiser, or maybe the ambulance that brought the crowd of people out of the businesses which split the real estate on C Street. They huddled around my body, wanting the details of the gruesome tragedy.
Many onlookers winced, and turned away, completely traumatized as the police tried to bar them from getting too close. But tourists will be tourists, I thought, as several took pictures and videotaped my gruesome corpse with their digitally enhanced cell phones. There was no doubt that I’d be uploaded within seconds onto a video sharing network across the internet. It pained me to listen to the stunned screams and muffled wheezing from my neighbors and tourists. I heard everyone around me, every individual voice, as I glared down at myself. I wasn’t an onlooker, but a ghost standing amongst the living. I watched some of the reactions. A whole lot of flinching as no one stared back at me. They saw me – dead, not the ghost. Everyone seemed to ask the same questions. Where had the jeep come from? Why hadn't I moved?
I had a question of my own. Why did this happen to me? I wanted so badly to turn back time, so that I could continue crossing the street. I stared down at myself, and screamed to deaf ears around me.
“Why me? Why? Why? Why?”
I detested being seen this way. My face was still recognizable but frozen with an empty stare. My thin arms stretched out and twisted, and my bare legs were shattered and mangled. I was utterly grotesque, and drenched in blood. There was so much blood. I nearly applauded the person who finally put a dark and weighted fabric over me. Now you could only make out the shape of my body, and observe the puddle seeping through the heavy cloth. Whoever covered me up didn’t bother to cover my left foot which was twisted and looked somewhat like a detached extension of my leg. My new strappy, white, espadrille, an ideal match for my new dress; my mother had insisted we buy on our last shopping trip, laid about two feet away from my body. It was polkadotted with numerous splotches of blood.
I’ve never been a vain person, but I was kind of annoyed that my new dress was ruined; the idea had actually crossed my mind. Unfortunately, no one could admire my new dress now, sopping in all my blood which could easily be confused for cherry syrup if you were unaware of the carcass under the fabric. The dress had been picked out by me, but suggested by my mom who demanded I get one dress instead of jeans – again, while browsing the racks at Dillard's.
“Get something pretty. Get a dress Delia,” Mom said, demanding loosely.
“What's wrong with jeans?” I asked. I owned over two dozen pairs. Maybe they weren't pretty, but they were all worn and comfortable, and I lived in them.
“Nothing, but you’re becoming this beautiful young woman trapped in denim.” She faked being disgusted by furrowing her eyebrows and flashing an impish grin.
“Fine.” I said, placating her. Mom had wanted me to emulate her by being in vogue with the most fashionable clothes and heaps of makeup. I just couldn’t be bothered with all the superficial crap, and being ‘girly’ had never been my style or a priority.
This morning while I dressed for work, I had to face it; Mom had been right. A dress was a nice change, and it
was
pretty. More than I had cared to admit to her while she sipped her coffee. I couldn’t help but feel attractive in it. The periwinkle empire mini dress was made of delicate cotton, and was perfect for this profusely obscene weather. Practically every girl around my age wore a similar version these days. I’m kind of surprised right now at how emotional I am about the dress, and that I cared what these people thought of my new dress. But for some reason I did. I guessed it was partly because the dress had made my mom deliriously happy when she saw me in it. She had beamed from ear to ear. I ran out of the house before she could make me do a runway walk.
The crashing thunder forced me and everyone else to look up at the charred sky of violent clouds that resembled brutes in a fist match. Suddenly the shrieking cries from somewhere behind my ghost body seized, my attention.
“No! No! Nooo!” The cries wailed uncontrollably. The voice was shrill and quivered like a vibrating guitar string.
Something dashed right through me. Right
through
me! The vapor I’m composed of now, sensed the being that penetrated me. This person went through my phantom body, with only one desire, reaching my crushed and lifeless form. The person was wracked with agony yet it wasn’t the cries that demonstrated this fact, but the torment they left behind that mingled with my mist.
Only one emotion could exude such grief, and it was love. I recognized the person the moment I saw her waver and then drop like a damp towel to her knees, on the asphalt beside my blanketed body.
Oh no... oh mom. She cried and screamed irrepressibly. The anguish seemed to overwhelm her, and could be sensed through her sobs. Tears streamed down the faces of many bystanders who watched my mom as she tore the blanket away from my head. She lovingly touched my blood streaked face, and stroked my scraped cheek. She was as unresponsive to the two deputies who tried to pull her away from me, as my hollow green eyes were, staring up at her. My auburn hair was now a sodden, bloody, burgundy and black mess, in her hand as she raised my head up. My mother’s screams, at that point, would have probably woken me up had this been just a horrible nightmare. But it wasn’t. I really lay there in her arms… eternally lifeless.
“Please! I must be with her! She’s my baby. Oh God, Oh God...” My mom wailed, hysterically. “Please let me stay with her.” I was astounded by the raw feelings that ripped through me as a phantom. I shook with sobs.
“Don’t take her away from me.” I said, blubbering. No one heard me, and I never felt more alone. I reached down to where she was crouched on the ground. I touched her face, wet with tears, but I couldn’t feel her. Her lips quivered as she continued to weep. Mom was still so pretty with what was once perfectly applied mascara, now dark smudges and chalky streaks down her cheeks. Oddly, I looked nothing like my mom, and vaguely like my dad.
I often wondered, since I differed from their features so much, them both being so fair with shockingly bright blond hair, and me sort of olive in tone and brunette, if I had been adopted, but of course a birth certificate couldn’t lie, nor their unconditional love for me.
I wrapped my arms around her, and hungered for her motherly touch. “I’m here mommy. I’m right here,” I whispered against her cheek, but she was oblivious to my presence.
Suddenly my dad wrapped his arms around me. His intention, of course, had been to hug my mom. I wanted it to stay that way – sandwiched between them like that forever. I couldn’t bear my father letting go of my mom, and ultimately letting go of me. I couldn’t differentiate their cries. They were deep, aching murmurs. My dad slowly let go of my mom, and virtually let go of me. I watched him as he led her to our car, opened the passenger side door, and sat her down.
“She’s gone.” My dad whispered. The words stung. Somehow I was in tune with the heart that was still in my lifeless body, not beating, but still loving.
My mom laid her head on the passenger side headrest, and slowly rolled her head back and forth, from left to right, unaccepting. Her eyes were closed. Mom didn’t flinch when the drum roll of thunder erupted again. A deputy who seemed bent on getting some order in place whispered something to my dad, and motioned for my parents to leave. My dad, sounding hoarse and exhausted, said he wouldn’t leave until they moved me. I was comforted that my parents were going to stay with me.
The rain finally started which sent many of the spectators to take cover under the numerous awnings which lined C Street. My blood was becoming slightly diluted, but still looked like sticky syrup on the asphalt. The humidity rose with the steady drizzle as the thunder bellowed above everyone. The harsh charcoal sky reminded me of the night of the thunder storm. I didn’t want to reflect on that night, or the horrors which had followed, but I couldn’t help comparing the thunderous, murky skies, both void of any lightning.
One of the deputies came over, his face expressionless and detached as he told my father that they would be moving me to the morgue. He also said that it was best that my parents head there to formally identify me for the record. My dad slid into the driver’s seat just as I quickly glided into the back seat. My body was now in the back of the coroner’s van and no longer laid out directly in front of Nelly’s. The ice cream shop was practically empty now, due to all of its patrons gathered on the sidewalk speculating about my accident.