Content warning: Car accident
"Did he say anything to you? Besides the ‘hi' and ‘sorry' and whatever else?"
"No, mom. What was he supposed to say? ‘Hey chick, you look like shit. Wanna go get some breakfast?' No, he didn't say anything else to me."
"Aww. Well, next time."
Shelby had relayed the entire embarrassing story and all Evelyn could ask was if Jackson Sweeney, famous musician and the sexiest man to ever grace a magazine cover, had said anything to her and what would happen next time. It was almost guaranteed that there would be no next time. She had thought it would be fun to share the experience with her mom, but not if she wasn't going to act right.
"What's dad up to?"
"The usual. Building things out in the garage. He sends his love."
Shelby's father, Roberto, had been obsessed with models since he was a boy in Cuba and that was all he'd had to entertain himself. Trains, planes, cars—if a model of it existed, he built them. Thankfully, he didn't keep many of them. He ended up selling or donating most of them. It had kept him busy since he retired from teaching at a Miami junior high. It also kept him out of Evelyn's hair. She'd recently retired as a secretary for Dade County School District.
"Send him some love back for me."
"I will," she replied, drawing out the words with hesitation. "So, you moved to Orlando. All of your boxes unpacked and pictures arranged just so. What's next? Do you plan to look for a job? Find something to occupy your time? Or lay on your couch for the rest of your life?"
Her tone was teasing but I caught the serious thread throughout, inching her way into something that had likely been on her mind and the topic of conversation between my parents.
And that was the million dollar question. The idea was just to get out of Miami. Everything from this point on was an unplanned adventure. Lucas had made sure she was taken care of for the foreseeable future. Beyond that, the settlement from the accident meant she didn't have to work if she didn't want to. She thought she'd enjoy something part time, maybe at a bookstore or a library, something to keep her mind stimulated and her hands busy.
Maybe she'd drive out to University of Central Florida and see if she could pick up something out there. Full time employees could take classes at a discounted rate. Not that she needed a discounted rate, but it would be another reason to take classes. She definitely had options, but first she had to be able to sleep at night and function during the day.
And it would be nice if she could stop looking over her shoulder eventually.
Shelby sank onto the chair that matched the couch and loveseat in the den, pulling at a lock of hair caught in the ponytail holder. She still hadn't done anything to her hair, but there was little chance she was going to run into a handsome celebrity between the den and the bathroom. She twisted sideways and kicked her feet up so she was laying across the chair, her feet dangling over one arm, her head over the other.
"I guess…” She sighed, pushing the words out. “I guess I figure out how to live the life I want to live. How to become this new person I want to be. Try to deal with all of this... yuck going on inside of me."
"It’ll come. One day at a time, sweetie," Evelyn soothed. "That's the only way it's going to come."
"I know. I just..." Tears began to well, her voice becoming unsteady, her breath quickening. Her chest tightened, matching the swell of emotion. "I still feel so guilty.It didn't have to be Lucas."
"But you know it wasn't something you could have chosen, because you would have chosen differently. So that means it was beyond your control. Right?"
That was logic and logic didn't apply here. Guilt knew no logic or sense. She could use sound reasoning all day, but still wail all night long.
"If I hadn't have insisted that we go back to the house, there never would have been an accident, and Lucas would still be here, and–" Shelby swallowed, stopping abruptly.
Evelyn prodded. "And?"
Memories of that day poured into her mind. For over a year, she'd blocked them out. It was too painful to keep reliving. Surviving was not remembering. Now they flooded relentlessly, without warning. She remembered, more often than she wanted to, the last time she'd seen Lucas.
They'd argued.
They were in the car, on the way a meeting at their wedding venue, a site that Lucas he had picked out and that Shelby hated, but she'd had no say in the matter. It was too big, too gaudy, too much show. She had longed for a small, private ceremony, maybe one the press wouldn't pick up and paint her as the woman marrying a man twice her age. He'd hated the implication that she was ashamed to be with him. It wasn't that way at all.
Lucas had made a comment, something snide. Angry, Shelby whipped the car around and headed back to the house, threatening to pack her things and leave. For good, this time.
If it wasn't for that pissy fit, driving at a high speed, they'd have never been on that road. The tragic sequence of events that followed would have never been set in motion. Lucas would still be alive. Maybe not with her, but he'd with his friends and family and all the people who now hated her.
She didn't blame them; they had good reason. It was her fault.
Shelby sobbed quietly into the receiver, giving in to the wave of sadness as it washed over and nearly drowned her. When it subsided, she sniffled and managed to sit up, wiping residual tears with the palm of her hand.
"I should try to run into that guy right now, when I look even worse."
Evelyn's hearty laughter on the other end of the line lifted her spirits a little. "Well, honey. It's nearing dinnertime. I better get something on the stove. Take care of yourself. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Get out of the house. Call me if you need me. I love you."
"Love you too, mom," she croaked, and hung up before the tears could start again.
She hated the goodbyes.