Chapter Five
Ricky
“TODAY WE WILL discuss tragedy and its effect on society as well as the individual.” Dr. Redmond began her PowerPoint presentation at the front of the room wearing another pantsuit, this one a light gray color.
I sat back in my chair, twirling my pencil between my fingers. Two weeks at the bike shop helping Ed with billing and advertising made no difference. He wasn’t bringing in enough business to keep me on the books. Panic landed like a heavy rock on my chest, pressing down until I found it hard to breathe. I needed to find a way to make more fucking money.
“I have a theory.” Dr. Redmond paused, waiting for attention at her podium. “I think all of us have faced tragedy in our lives that has shaped our personality. To test this, I’m going to randomly pick three people to come up on stage and we will see what we can learn.”
Alarm rippled through me and I sat upright. Few would guess by my rough exterior that I was fairly smart and well-spoken. I liked to read, and I enjoyed learning and studying. What I didn’t enjoy much was talking out loud in front of people. Oversharing wasn’t a concept I knew. While my mind raced and was eager to gain information, I preferred to keep my damn mouth shut.
I held my breath, hoping I wasn’t chosen for our professor’s experiment on stage.
Dr. Redmond strode across the platform. “Third row, second chair. Young man in the striped shirt. Will you help us out?”
The dude nodded, lifting his long, lean frame from his chair and walking the stairs to stand by Dr. Redmond.
“To make this totally random, close your eyes and pick a row and seat number.” Dr. Redmond spoke into her microphone, addressing the student she’d called from the audience to stand next to her.
Striped shirt closed his eyes, and Dr. Redmond moved the microphone under his mouth. “Twelfth row, tenth chair.”
Fuck. That was my row. Luckily, like on day one of class, I had chosen the first seat.
“It appears the tenth chair is empty. Chair nine, would you participate?” Dr. Redmond asked with a warm smile.
Chair nine held an African-American woman, who if I had to guess, I’d say was in her forties. The woman shrugged and moved past the rest of our row to the front of the room.
Finally, the professor held the microphone in front of the woman and asked her for her choice.
The woman closed her eyes. “Row one, seat one.”
Yes! I mentally fist bumped the air. That seat wasn’t mine. I sat back, relaxing in my chair.
Ah, this last one must be an eager fucker. Not only the first row, but the first seat. This guy was either a total brown-noser or looking to make a quick exit. I craned my neck to see who it was, but I was blocked by too many other curious students.
Dr. Redmond merely lifted her eyebrows in question this time as the class waited to see her last victim. A petite, fragile looking girl rose from her seat, making her way to the stage. Rich bitch. I recognized her from the first day of class. Her face was red, caused by furious blushing, and even from twelve rows away I could tell she was shaking. Other than her palpable fear, what stood out once again were her fancy clothes and jewelry. Her black slacks looked perfectly fitted and her blouse appeared to be silk. Lights from the stage shined off the jewels on her wrists and watch as she walked.
I couldn’t wait to hear her pathetic sob story.
Moving back to striped shirt, Dr. Redmond began. “Tell us your name, please.”
“Walter,” he croaked, clearing his throat a second too long and I placed him in the annoying category.
“I’d like to ask you, Walter, to think back on your life. What’s the strongest memory you have? One that was scary or heartbreaking. Meaning not a triumph, but a tragedy.” The professor waited, one hand on her hip, the other clutching the mike.
Walter’s face morphed into something that looked like pain and questioning as he raised his chin and searched the ceiling tiles in thought. “There a few things that come to mind, but the strongest fear I’ve ever experienced was when my mom had breast cancer.” His voice dropped lower on the word, cancer. His cheeks darkened pink, and he shifted his gaze to the floor in front of him.
Fuck. Cancer. Thank God that was one thing my family had not had to deal with. I was kind of a dick for mentally calling the guy annoying.
“I’m sorry, Walter.” Dr. Redmond placed her hand on his forearm and patted it. “Cancer is most certainly a deep, life-altering tragedy. How is your mom today?”
Walter’s face broke into a smile, so big it seemed to spread around the room. “She’s been cancer free for ten years!”
Dr. Redmond grinned back. “Wonderful news. But let’s do some quick math. What are you, twenty years old?”
Walter’s grin slipped, but he nodded.
“And ten years cancer free means she was in remission when you were ten. What were you, eight when she was diagnosed?” Dr. Redmond probed, her attention focused on Walter.
“Seven,” Walter corrected. “I was seven when she was diagnosed and when she had a double mastectomy.”
The room was silent, and I found myself waiting on edge for the next question.
Dr. Redmond rested her hip against the long table next to her. “Tell me. How has that affected you today?”
Walter’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed. “What do you mean?”
“What are your hobbies?” Dr. Redmond asked.
Walter’s grin was back. “I’m super into drag racing. I like to gamble. Party.” His attention turned to the room. “You guys know.”
And he was back to annoying—he reeked frat boy.
A few losers in the back cheered, but Dr. Redmond lowered her palm to shush them. “Have you ever been in a long-term relationship with a guy or girl?”
The pink flush traveled to Walter’s ears. “I’m into girls,” he coughed into the microphone. “But, no. I’ve never done anything long-term. Why would I? Life’s too short.”
Dr. Redmond faced the crowd. “A-ha,” she nodded. “And if I had to start analyzing the effect of tragedy on Walter’s life, that would be my thesis statement. ‘Life is too short.’ Racing, gambling, one-night stands. Risky behavior reminds Walter he’s really living, because at the age of seven, he first learned that there are no guarantees for how long we have.”
She turned back to Walter. “Hug your mom extra hard for me, please. I’m happy she is a survivor and that you have a true zest for life. Just be careful.”
Walter’s grin was crooked, and the poor guy looked a bit confused as he shuffled back to his seat.
Dr. Redmond approached the middle-aged black woman next. “Hello. What is your first name?”
“Monica.” The woman answered, her long, braided hair moving around and off her shoulders as she spoke.
“Monica, the same question to you. What’s the strongest memory of tragedy that you can recall?” Dr. Redmond pushed her dark hair away from her face and waited.
Monica spoke into the microphone, explaining that her childhood home had burned to the ground when she was twelve. She was babysitting and saved one sibling but not the other.
Holy crap. Nothing like listening to someone else’s shit to make you feel less alone in the sucky life realm. From the corner of my eye, I saw the third student, rich bitch, fidget. She moved from side to side, her eyes wide and frown deep as she looked at Monica.
Turning back, I watched Monica brush a tear away with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, blowing it out hard enough that her cheeks puffed.
Dr. Redmond asked Monica how her relationship was with her mom today and the sad story continued. Her mother still blamed her for the accident and had cut her daughter out of her life. She went on to describe her life, taking care of and nurturing her husband and children, never allowing herself a release from the guilt of her past.
Dr. Redmond’s eyes narrowed. “I wish, Monica, that you could allow yourself the grace to focus on the life you saved.”
Sniffles echoed throughout the room. I wasn’t teary for fuck’s sake, but I got why they were. It was sad shit, mostly because it was true.
Dr. Redmond faced the room again. “Ladies and gentlemen, the effect of a house fire and loss of life in said fire, can be termed: the hero made the villain. Monica is a hero. As a child, she acted quickly and saved her life and that of her sibling. But when tragedy strikes, humans can have a warped tendency to blame anyone possible. Monica’s mother, instead of embracing her for what she did do, blamed her for not doing more. Now Monica leads a safe life, taking care of her family and always putting others before herself.”
She faced Monica, whispering private words in her ear. Monica’s smile was wobbly as she agreed. She took the stairs to her row, the sympathetic and understanding eyes of classmates following her to her seat.
The entire class’s attention was now on student number three, who if possible looked even more terrified to be standing in front of the room.
Dr. Redmond must have picked up on her unease as she moved from behind her table to drag around a chair—first for the student, and then for herself. She motioned for the girl to take a seat. “Please tell us your first name.”
“Aveline.” Her name came out in a breath, whisper soft. I caught myself leaning forward.
“Aveline, I’m sure you’re prepared with your answer after having listened to your two classmates. What’s your story?”
The young woman looked to be about my age, with delicate features. She wrung her hands in front of her, swallowing several times before speaking.
“I was in an accident eighteen years ago, when I was four.” She whispered into the microphone. The room was so silent, I swear you could hear the snap of chewing gum.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What kind of accident?” Dr. Redmond asked, a soothing, gentle tone taking over.
Aveline looked around the room, appearing like she might bolt at any second. For some reason, I was desperate for her not to. “I was at the lake with my family, having a picnic lunch. And I fell in. In a matter of seconds, I was drowning.”
Swear to Christ, my heart stopped beating for a second. I pressed my hands on my thighs to keep from standing up. Hot, white heat clouded my vision and the monster rose, growing in size and intensity.
“A man dove in to save me… and he did save me, but in the process, he broke his neck. The water was too shallow to dive in, but how would he have known that?” Aveline looked at Dr. Redmond like she was trying to convince her.
I moved to the edge of my seat, my hands balled into fists, breath coming in heavy pants. I willed the beast inside me to settle, a notion that he could overtake me, and I might erupt filling my brain.
Dr. Redmond’s face looked stricken, as if she was expecting something sad, but not this. “What happened next, Aveline?”
Aveline took a shaky breath. “Doctors told my parents that the witnesses reported he dove in, immediately breaking his neck, but somehow he was able to push me high enough out of the water that I could breathe before he lost the use of his arms. Bystanders saw me and got me onto dry land.”
“And the man who saved your life?” Dr. Redmond probed.
Twin tears ran down the girl’s face, and I watched, waiting to hear her answer. The answer one I already knew.
“My parents found me right after I was pulled out. They told me another bystander carried that man from the water and emergency responders were called. I don’t know any more than that. We never learned his name. After he got hurt, everything happened fast. Ambulances and helicopters and… we never learned his name…”
Aveline quietly sobbed, her face in her hands. Dr. Redmond rubbed her back, talking in her ear.
I sat back in my seat, my breath coming out in a whoosh.
That was the girl. Here, in my class, at my college. I squeezed my hands together until they shook. For most of my life, I’d pictured this moment. I wanted to charge the stage. To scoop her up, bring her home, and force her to look at what she had done to the man who had saved her. A low growl rumbled deep in my lungs and I coughed to cover it. Ideas raced around in my brain like cars on a track. I had to say something to her. I couldn’t let her leave. I should confront her. She had to know the damage she had caused. But I held back. I needed time to think and process what was right in front of me.
Aveline was the girl whose stupid mistake made my dad a quadriplegic.
Because of her, our lives were changed for the worst.
Now I had to decide what to do with this information.
And exactly how to make her pay for what she took from us.