Carly
This sucker rides like a dump truck, two-up. “You okay?” I raise my voice to be heard over the wind.
“Fuck, it hurtsss.”
Nevada is slurring and shaking like an aspen leaf. She’s also about cutting me in two, hanging on. But better that than—Deer! “Braking!”
Go, momma. Get out of the friggin’ road!
Nevada’s staying right behind me, but her weight exaggerates everything. Maybe if I speed up just a…yeah, that helps. The bike wants to stay up. All I need to do is—
“Unnnhhh.”
“Going as fast as I can. Just hang on.”
More damned curves. Only twenty more miles, but we’ve gotta get out of these damn twisties. It’s taking too long. “Hey, you alive back there?”
“Nhhhhhhh.”
“Come on, city girl, where’s all that tough now? Hang on, damn it. Tighter. Hear me? Tighter!” If she passes out, we’re going down. Now I’m shaking. Concentrate. Concentrate. One curve at a time…One curve…“Hey. Sing with me. Rocky Mountain High…Nevada. Damn it, sing!”
She’s getting wobbly. This is not good.
Breathe, Carly. Breathe. You can do this. You have to do this. Hang on, Bean. I’m not letting anything happen to you. I won’t.
Finally, I can see the valley. The twisties are loosening. Easing more to sweepers. Maybe I can inch up the speed, just a bit…“Nevada, come on, homie, sing!”
Friggin’ R.V.’s. Ant pulling a sugar cube. Get out of the way! Jesus, lady, get a car you can drive!
Thank God, the edge of town. But the speed limit dropped. God, this is never going to end. Red light, red light…easy, easy. Ugh. At low speeds, the extra weight wants to pull us over. “Hey, feet up. Feet up, remember?”
A blue “H” sign. Thank you, God. Easy, easy. She’s getting wobbly on the shifts. “Hey, city girl. Hang on. We’re almost there.” Can’t be more than another mile or so…get off here. Yikes! Almost didn’t make that turn. Luckily, no one in the other lane. Slow turns are the worst.
Where the heck is this place? How are people supposed to—there!
I pull up at the Emergency Room entrance. “Don’t you move, Nevada. You’ll dump us, sure. Hear me? Nevada? Hey! Hey, somebody, help!”
Two guys in scrubs jog out of the electric doors, one pushing a wheelchair.
“She’s been bitten by a rattlesnake. Back of the right thigh, about an hour and a—Hey, easy, I’m gonna drop the bike!”
“It’s okay. I’ve got her.” He lifts Nevada off and the suspension lightens.
“Jesus.” She’s so pale I can see the veins in her closed eyelids. She looks like death. I’m so glad I couldn’t see her when I was riding; I’d’ve freaked out. “Is she breathing?”
Her limbs are floppy, and he practically pours her into the wheelchair. “Yeah. We’ll get her in. You park and meet us. What’s her name?”
“Nevada. Nevada Sweet.” My hands are shaking so bad I can hardly pull in the clutch. It takes me twice to get moving.
Since I’m not family, they won’t let me in the treatment room. I call to have the truck towed to Alamogordo. I think about calling Cora, but decide to wait for an update. No sense worrying her before I have to. I think about calling Nana, but home seems a zillion miles away—another lifetime. Besides, if I broke down on the phone, I’d scare her to death.
I sit and wait. And wait. I watch the comings and goings of others in crisis mode. Why did I waste time fighting with her? I’m easygoing, but that girl is like a jet catapult—she can take me from zero to supersonic with a few words. She can’t die. No one dies of snakebites anymore.
Do they?
“Who came in with Nevada Sweet?” A nurse in scrubs stands at the door to the inner sanctum.
I’m there before I give the order for my feet to move. “I did. Is she okay? Can I see her?”
“Follow me.”
Beyond the door is one big room, sectioned off with a sea of sky-blue curtains. She leads me to the one against the back wall. I can’t see any of the other patients, but their disembodied whispers and moans are ghostly. A shivering starts up in my gut. Anyone around rodeo knows shock when they see it. Or feel it.
The nurse pulls back the curtain. Nevada is in bed, wearing a hospital gown, an IV tube winding down and ending in her arm. Her eyes are closed, her skin as pale as the sheet.
My feet stop at the curtain. They won’t go farther. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes. Another half hour, things would have been much worse. She’s responding to the antivenin, but slower than we’d like. We’re holding her overnight for observation.” Someone calls out, and she leaves me.
Eyes still closed, Nevada says, “I’m not dead yet. You can come over.”
I step to the bed and try to take her hand, but she shakes me off.
“I told you I’m not dying. Back up off me.” But a ghost of a smile quirks her lips.
“I’ll call Cora in a few, but is there anyone else you want me to call? Your mom? Someone else?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Her chin lifts, but there’s the finest quiver to her lips.
“I’m so sorry, Nevada. I can’t imagine what I was thinking, standing there arguing when I should have had you on the bike and gotten you out of there right away.”
“Yeah, but you also saved my life, so I guess I have to forgive you.”
Now that I know she’s going to be okay, exhaustion hits so hard I’ve got Gumby knees. There isn’t a chair. “Scoot over.”
She moves her legs, and I perch on the edge of the bed.
She fingers the edge of the sheet. “I was scared.”
“God, so was I.” We’re quiet for a bit, listening to the comings and goings on outside the curtain, and inside our heads. “You know, you’d better be nice to me now.”
She snorts. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
I buff my nails on my shirt. “Well, you know, a rumor could start on the rodeo circuit, that you got snake-bit on the butt.”
Her mouth drops. “You know that’s not true.”
“Didn’t say it was true. Just that it could be a rumor.” I smile down at her.
She almost smiles back, but then drops her head on the pillow. “Go away, willya? I’m beat.”
“Oh, sorry. I should have thought of that.” I hop off the bed. “I’ll go call Cora, and check on the truck, and…Nevada?”
She opens her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Get outta here. Can’tcha see I’m tired?”
“Going.”
I walk back to the admitting area and keep going, until I’m standing beside a concrete bench, in the sunshine. Traffic comes and goes in the parking lot, and past it, on the street. I sit and dial Cora.
“Carly, I was just fixing to call you. I leave for the airport within the hour. So far, my flight’s on time. Pick me up outside the terminal, okay?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Change of plans.”
“Why? Is everything all right? Are you sick? Is the baby—”
“I’m fine. In fact, we’re all fine. Or we will be, soon enough.”
“What happened?”
I give her the five-minute version of the day’s events.
“Oh my God.”
“They’re only keeping her overnight to be cautious. But I’m afraid you’re going to have a hell of a tow bill.”
“I couldn’t care less about that. I’m just grateful you’re both all right. You were very brave, Carly. I’m so glad you were there with her.”
Brave. Not Hardly. Nevada nearly died by argument. “You’ll need to get a cab to the hospital. I can’t carry you dragging your roller suitcase behind on the bike.”
“That would sure be a photo for the paper, wouldn’t it? No problem. I’ll see you tonight. I can’t wait to hug you both.”
I hang up. So much has happened in ten hours. My heart is sore, my nerves are crispy, and I’m shaken. Without planning, my thumb hits speed dial to a person who I know loves me.
“Carly-girl. I was just telling Irma…you remember Irma, from Bingo?”
Through the babble in the Elks Hall, Irma yells, “Hi Carly.”
“Damn, Irma, It’s not like an orange juice can and a string. You about blew out my eardrum. Anyway, Carly, I was just telling her that my baby is coming home tomorrow.”
Tenderness fills my head in a liquid rush. “I’ll be there, Nana. I just called to tell you how much I love you.”
“Aw, now that’s sweet. I love you right back, Carly-girl. I’m gonna make—wait. Oh, fuck me! Bingo! I’ve got a Bingo over here!”
Irma’s shrill voice joins Nana’s, calling for verification of the win.
I can just picture Nana standing up, waving her card. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Nana. Enjoy.” I hang up, lean my back against the sun-warmed cement, and take in the last rays of the sunset. Packing up the truck this morning seems a month ago. So much has happened. So much to think about.
Something is different. Something happened on that terrifying ride down the mountain, like things shifted inside—settled. I search, looking for what it is, what it means.
I close my eyes and turn my focus inward. I hear my breath, my heartbeat, blood coursing through my veins. That same blood is nourishing another human being.
This new Carly is more than a screwup. Nevada is safe, because of me. The baby is safe, because I did things right. Could I have what it takes to be a good mother? Right now, it feels like I do. My hand steals to my belly.
You in there, Bean? You rest easy. Momma’s got you.
I love you.
“Are you okay, lady?” A stooped little man with a four-pronged cane is standing in front of me, his white brows arched like concerned caterpillars.
I swipe at my face and smile. “I’m more okay than I’ve been, but not as okay as I’m going to be, thanks.”