Clarity 4: After the Storm

Chapter One

Dr. Liam Larson

You’re going to be fine, I tell the limp girl in the passenger seat as I drive carefully through the mountain roads. The black pavement is slick and deadly under the wheels of my BMW, and I clench my jaw as I slow down for the sharp turns. It wouldn’t be very heroic if I crashed my car in the middle of rescuing my girlfriend from her accident, now would it? My eyebrows are narrowed in concentration as I drive with near-surgical precision, but I know I need to keep talking and being cheerful to distract her from the pain.

"From now on, things are going to be different, Winter. We need to stop talking about all the phenomenal things we could do, and actually do them. I’m tired of waiting. This has been a really big wake-up call. Let’s promise that once we get through this, we’re going to stop being such workaholics. I want to live." I try to speak with enthusiasm while focusing on the treacherous roads. It’s easy to see why she crashed. Even a skilled driver with perfect vision, in perfectly bright daylight conditions, could make a fatal mistake in conditions like this.

Putting a woman behind the wheel is like giving a toddler a machine gun.

I grimace at the memory of one of my father’s favorite phrases. He managed to intimidate my poor mother so much that she never gathered the courage to learn how to drive. I never wanted to treat Helen that way. Driving is a risk, but it’s also freedom. It’s power and independence.

Helen is so quiet that I’m worried she’s in an excruciating amount of pain. I know that I put her through a lot of emotional suffering in the past few hours, and all of this is my fault. She was never meant to hear the things she heard. I was supposed to be the one person she could trust. And on top of that, for her to be forced to see the things that she has seen? I wish I could take it all away somehow.

I can’t wait to check out this cabin of yours, Winter, I tell her gently. I bet it’s spectacular. You’ll need some time to recover from your injuries, and I’ll take care of you to the best of my ability. But before long, I’m sure you’ll be feeling strong enough to go on walks with me in the forest. What do you say? That sounds great, doesn’t it?

I hear our puppy yipping softly, and I know that she’s afraid. A quick glance reveals that Snowball is sitting in Helen’s lap and shaking like a leaf. I wish I knew what to do or say to comfort my two girls, but it’s impossible to find the words in a situation like this.

Snowball will enjoy going on walks with us, I say softly. You’d love that, wouldn’t you girl? Getting to explore the fresh air of the mountains instead of my cramped apartment in New York City?

Snowball responds with a tiny, timid bark. She sounds nothing like the vibrant, energetic puppy that I once fell in love with. Seeing Helen get hurt has really affected her. I can tell, because it’s also bothering me. I feel the need to keep talking to coax my girlfriend out of her emotional fortress. If only I could make her smile, or feel hopeful about anything at all...

We could go on that vacation that we’ve been talking about, I say in a falsely upbeat voice. What do you think, Winter? You can choose the destination. I think you were talking about France or Italy? I’ve always wanted to travel, and I would love to have you by my side. We should put those shiny new eyes of yours to good use and actually go take a look at everything the world has to offer. I know that you’re excited enough about being able to see the brochures, but there’s something really magical about actually being there. Something really sexy too. Maybe we can try to make out on at least a dozen historic landmarks?

She doesn’t laugh or react in any way to my stupid joke, and I am beginning to wish I had the boyish charm of my best friend Owen. I truly believe that Owen could wake the dead with his jokes and force their decaying corpses to laugh one last time. This thought gives me a little chill as I gaze down into the deep ravine to the left of the road.

When our puppy begins to whimper, I turn to the side and notice that Winter’s eyes are closed. She looks deathly pale and completely still. Winter? Winter! I shout frantically. Wake up! Helen? Dammit, you can’t fall asleep now. Slamming on the brakes of my car, I reach to the side rapidly and place two fingers against her neck. I can’t feel her pulse for a few seconds, and I hold my breath in fear. Then I realize that it’s probably because my fingers are half-frozen. I bring my fingers to just below her nose and check for breathing.

Nothing. There’s nothing.

Is she... ?

Then—barely. Just barely, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. I exhale anxiously as I place my palm against her heart to check for a heartbeat. She’s weak, but alive.

I have to face the truth. I’m not going to be able to take care of her on my own. She didn’t want me to take her to a hospital, but I’m going to have to go against her wishes if I want her to live. There’s a little trail of blood dripping down her forehead and cheek, and I know that she’s experienced significant head trauma. This could be a concussion... or worse. I feel a little jealous at the thought of other doctors being the ones to help her injuries, but I simply don’t have the expertise or equipment required.

Just hang on, I tell her with a deep breath as I begin driving again. I simultaneously use my right hand to write the word hospital in my car’s GPS search. You’re going to be fine. I promise. When the GPS has finished mapping the route, I realize that I need to turn sharply to the right in a few seconds. I tightly grip the steering wheel and slow down to prepare for the turn.

As I pick up the pace and drive faster, I grit my teeth together so tightly that I feel like I could crush iron between my molars. How did we get here? Just yesterday, things were fine between us. How did I go and hurt Helen so much that she ended up risking her life to try and get away from me? Images course through my mind of all the decisions and indecisions that led to this point.

It was my greed. My insatiable ambition and lust for material things I didn’t need. I let it control me. I can only pray that my actions haven’t caused me to lose the only woman I have ever loved.

Chapter Two

The day before...

Turning the small velvet box over and over in my hands, I consider its implications for my future.

Is this the right time? Is she the right person? Does she think that I am the right person?

Would I be a good husband? I work all day and night, and I’m barely at home, except to sleep. Sometimes, I even end up doing most of my sleeping here in this miserable hospital staff room. My few days off are spent recuperating. Would the long hours eventually upset her and destroy us? But she is a writer; a special kind of woman who barely notices the passage of time. She has her nose in a book all day, and hardly ever misses me. I don’t think I could ever find a partner more independent than my Winter Rose.

Helen Winters.

Even though she prefers to be called by her pen name, I still call her Helen in my head. Is that dishonest? Is it just another one of the secrets and lies I keep bottled up that will eventually kill our relationship? I usually don’t worry so much, but when this little ring box is in my hand, all my fear and anxiety boils up to the surface.

Just propose already, Liam, says a female doctor with a groan.

I look up in surprise; I hadn’t even heard her enter the break room.

Dr. Jennifer Keating smirks at me. Better finish your coffee, kid. You’re gonna need it in an hour or two. She pops open her own can of soda and begins chugging the contents.

Thanks, Jen, I mumble, reaching for my half-empty coffee cup. I take a large gulp of the cold, bitter beverage, and make a face of disgust.

The middle-aged woman chuckles at me. She reaches into her pocket and tosses me a small packet. Caffeine pills, she explains. I couldn’t survive without them.

I nod, reaching for the stimulant gratefully.

Gotta go, she tells me, heading for the door. Oh, and Liam? Happy birthday.

I try to force a smile, but birthdays are a sour subject for me.

Owen won’t shut up about the party he’s throwing for you, Jennifer says. What are you now? Thirty-five?

Twenty-nine.

She whistles. Jesus! Way too young to be a doctor. When I was your age, I was still getting laid as much as possible on campus.

I force a smile again as Jennifer leaves the room. Of course she was. She came from a good family and never had any problems with money. I had to work ten times harder than people like her, and I’m still not where I want to be.

Am I even in a position to be thinking about marriage?

Could I provide a good life for Helen? I know she makes a little income from her writing, and her family is loaded. But I don’t want her to depend on her father forever. I want to be someone. I’ve never really had a penny to my name. All my adult life, I’ve been buried up to my neck in filthy debt. I’ve tried and tried to claw my way out by doing more than any of my peers, and seizing every opportunity that came my way. But where has that gotten me? I thought that once I finished school and my residency and got a real job, things would miraculously change.

It turns out that I was wrong.

All my life has been spent waiting. Waiting and preparing for something that never came. Patience is simply not my strong suit, yet I have been forced to exhibit so much patience that I think it might drive me mad. It’s not enough that I had to sacrifice my entire youth for a grueling decade of school. I took no breaks, and crammed classes in as much as possible to make it go faster, but it didn’t really make a difference. I still feel like I spent the last ten years of my life in prison.

Now that I’m finally free, I still need to be patient enough to wait for each measly paycheck. After my mortgage, car loans, credit cards, and student loans, each paycheck disappears the moment it hits my account. How can anyone live like this? I know I’m not the only one, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Cracking the velvet box open, I study the unusual ruby stone with a sigh. If my grandmother hadn’t given me this ring before she died, I doubt I could even afford one. That might have made things easier, no? If I didn’t have the ring, I couldn’t even consider proposing.

It’s the indecision that’s killing me.

Life might be a little less hectic if I had a private practice with regular hours. But that could realistically be years and years away. What woman would be willing to suffer through another decade of misery with me while I get my life together? But Helen isn’t just any woman. She’s the one. If I don’t ask now, could I lose my opportunity?

Helen has been changing lately. She’s no longer the hesitant, paper-thin girl that I met in the woods a few months ago. Since her eye surgery, and her judo lessons, she’s developed a new confidence and boldness that I find incredibly attractive. But her newfound strength and enthusiasm for life makes me afraid that she won’t need me anymore. What if she only needed me to help her heal—and now that she has healed, there’s no room for me in her life?

Gazing down at the slender gold band in the blue velvet box, I wonder if Helen would even like the ring. I remember it resting on the hand of a kind old woman who loved her vulgar son far too much. My eyebrows crease as I think of my father.

"If you’re gonna ask a woman for somethin’, boy, you better ask her on your birthday, says the muscular man, hoisting a rifle onto his shoulder. Can you believe yer mother let me get this gun? It’s a beauty, that’s for sure."

"Will you let me shoot it, Dad? I ask in excitement as I follow him into the woods. Will you teach me?"

Turning toward me with a sneer, my father shoves his large boot firmly in my stomach, sending me hurtling back to the ground. He then proceeds to spit on me.

"A tiny piece of shit like you ain’t got no business handling a man’s weapon. I reckon it weighs more than you do, he says bitterly. Then he pauses. Come to think of it, the only reason you’re here is because I begged yer mother to let me fuck her on my eighteenth birthday. What a waste.