No slideshow of beloved faces or memories flashed through Jillian’s mind before her bonnet collided with the unyielding tree. As her head slammed into the deploying airbag, she was finally free of thought.
Tied to a hospital bed, the memory of the impact faded over time, but not the pain. None of it.
Jillian heaved herself up in bed, clenching her teeth as fire surged through her bandaged leg. A weary expression settled on her face as a golden sun began to lighten the sky, its rays saturating the wispy leaves curled on the enormous oak tree outside her window. A blackbird perched on its home branch, building a nest of fluffy moss and rough stalks in its crown. It released its loot and hopped down the thick branches to the armrest of the bench below, promising a cool resting place for the day.
A man in worn slippers and a withered complexion sat there, sucking on a cigarette. He cocked his head as he noticed the bird and blew the poisonous fumes in its direction. It flapped its wings and fluttered away.
A knock diverted Jillian’s attention, and she sluggishly turned towards the sound. Lissy’s shock of blonde hair appeared in the doorway, her sharp features softened by a toothy smile. She wore a thick coat—an odd choice, judging by the view outside the window—and a versatile-looking handbag slung over one shoulder. In her hands, she clutched two steaming paper cups of coffee.
‘Good morning,’ Lissy said, striding over to Jillian, who reclined against a large pillow, her good leg dangling off the side of the bed. The smell of coffee and Lissy’s own scent of sandalwood and jasmine flooded Jillian’s nostrils as she placed the cups on the side table.
She liked Lissy’s friendly confidence and didn’t mind her visits. But she was fighting the constant drooping of her eyelids, her tongue heavy in her mouth, and Lissy would sit there patiently, expecting her to talk. She should suggest another day for a visit, Jillian thought, but didn’t. She had never been good at persuading others.
‘Help yourself,’ Lissy said, pointing at the cups as she dropped her bag on the windowsill and disentangled herself from her coat, carelessly tossing the garment over the back of the chair beside it. She grabbed a cup for herself, took a sip, and winced—whether at the heat or the taste, Jillian couldn’t tell.
‘How are you feeling?’ Lissy asked, settling into the chair.
‘Great. My leg is getting better each day.’
Fine lines fanned out beside Lissy’s eyes as she smiled. ‘I’m happy to hear it. And apart from the leg—how are you holding up?’
‘It’s all right. I’m looking forward to going home, though.’ Holding Lissy’s gaze, Jillian started massaging her own fingers.
‘I can imagine.’ Lissy glanced sympathetically at the injured leg. ‘You must be bored out of your mind by now.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Jillian said, and without thinking she added, ‘I’m quite used to it.’ A jolt shot through her as her mind caught up with her words. Averting her eyes, she gulped the too-hot coffee to silence herself.
Lissy nodded, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to say, before leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs in a casual posture.
‘How come?’
‘Well, you know. Daily chores—grocery shopping, gardening, cleaning the house—not very exciting.’ A cramp seized Jillian’s injured leg and she readjusted her seat. The pain, a constant reminder of her impairments, was depressing.
Lissy chuckled softly. ‘That sounds like quite a lot. Where do you find the time to get bored?’ Her face turned more serious again, though her warmth remained. ‘Following the same routine every day can be mentally dragging, though.’
She took another sip of coffee, her voice casual. ‘I suppose your husband will relieve you of some of those tasks for a while?’
Jillian swallowed as Frank’s familiar face popped into her mind.
‘He will,’ she said, wondering if he had already removed all his things from their home.
‘That’s good.’ Smiling briefly, Lissy reached for her bag and pulled it onto her lap. ‘There’s something I wanted to ask again. I hope that’s okay?’
She waited for Jillian’s approval before continuing.
‘You said you’d been on your way to the grocery store before the accident happened. Did anything unusual happen earlier that day?’
Jillian thought back to the morning a fortnight ago. She had opened the window, even after the hard frost the night before, and watched the pane swing wildly on its hinges. The curtains shivered under a blast of icy wind that wooshed into the sparsely furnished room like an evil spectre, its hiss echoing off the walls. Jillian tilted her head, as if listening, while she rocked in the chair beside the empty cradle.
The front door slammed shut, making her rise from the chair, which rocked back and forth in an echo of her movement. With somnambulistic grace, she crossed the room and went to the window. The handle in her hand was painfully cold, but she didn’t pull away as she looked down at her rose bushes, already in full bloom.
Outlined against the dusty morning haze, she caught sight of Frank’s silhouette as he walked to his car. Jillian hadn’t heard him come to bed; he had probably been sleeping on the sofa. They had exhausted each other once again, their opposing views circling like vultures around the remains of an argument that should have been buried long ago.
Jillian blinked as her thoughts descended back into the room.
‘No. Everything has been normal,’ she answered Lissy’s question, her eyes fixed on the window.
That part was true.
How Frank, who always ended their fights with a hug and the promise that they’d feel better someday, had stared through her as if she weren’t there.
How robotic he had sounded when he finally spoke, saying it had been two years now and they had to move on; that he could no longer live with the remnant of what might have been.
How his voice cracked altogether when he said there was someone else, filling Jillian’s ears with white noise as the last connection broke and she became a floating thing—distant and aloof.
That part she kept to herself.
From her peripheral vision, Jillian saw Lissy pull a black notebook from her bag and open it on her knees.
Under the oak tree, the man had got to his feet and was now standing on the bench, a freshly lit cigarette dangling between his teeth. He unzipped his trousers and exposed himself to the world, without a care for his surroundings. From somewhere beyond Jillian’s field of vision, a gaunt woman in a greenish uniform appeared, skinny limbs swinging limply around her as she hurried across the lawn. Her voice was silenced by the rigid windowpane, but the ensuing pantomime painted a picture of her breathless efforts to pull up the man’s trousers, which he faced with stoic ignorance. Another man in uniform had joined her. Together, they pulled the smoking man off the bench, whose face had turned purple as he shouted at them.
Jillian turned again fully to Lissy, who flipped through her book, remaining entirely unimpressed by the commotion outside.
She stared intently at her notes before lifting her head. ‘Please tell me again what happened before your car hit the tree.’ Her voice was soft but insistent.
Jillian wetted her lips. ‘It’s all very blurry. I know I was speeding and must have lost control of the car somehow. I remember jerking the steering wheel around and trying to bring the car to a stop, but it was too late…’
‘I understand this is hard,’ Lissy said with a nod. ‘I’d like you to close your eyes and take a moment. Focus on the last feeling you had just before the crash.’
She waited for Jillian to comply, then asked, ‘How do you feel?’
Calm.
‘Scared,’ Jillian said, opening her eyes.
Lissy abandoned her relaxed posture and leaned closer. ‘There’s something that worries me.’ Her voice was quiet, her earlier joviality replaced by professional sincerity. ‘I honestly believe that opening up about it will help you.’
The angry voices outside had ebbed away, replaced by the oppressive presence of silence.
‘Why weren’t there any brake marks at the crash scene, Jillian?’
Jillian squirmed under Lissy’s attentive gaze. The all-consuming tiredness sank deeper into her bones, anchoring her to this bed, to this facility—at the mercy of Lissy’s probing questions.
A flap of black wings outside the window caught her attention. The blackbird had returned to its nest, beak filled with more material to build a home for its offspring. Jillian watched its merry efforts, and tears rose to her eyes.
‘Sorry.’ Feeling pathetic, she wiped her face. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I did step on the brakes.’
Lissy scrutinised her for a moment.
‘All right.’ She scribbled something in her notebook, then looked at her watch.
Jillian sat up straighter in bed and cleared her throat. ‘When do you think I can go home?’ she asked, trying to sound light.
‘I think it would be good if we had another session in the next few days,’ Lissy said, grabbing her bag and jacket. She bestowed her open, toothy smile on Jillian again. ‘We’re making progress, Jillian. You’ll be home soon.’
‘Thank you,’ Jillian said, returning the smile. ‘I’m feeling much better already.’
They said their goodbyes, and Jillian watched the woman leave, taking with her the scent of spring and its hopeful promise.
Progress, Jillian thought, as the weight of her thoughts dragged her back down into the pillow. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
You’ll be fine, she murmured softly to herself, relishing the memory of that peaceful freedom just before her world imploded in a metallic bang and everything went dark.
