Chapter Five
Chevelle
It’s been 23 days since I woke up from a coma and just as many visits from River, along with the vases of white lilies that he brings. Twenty-three days of excruciating pain as I suffer through the physical therapy that is slowly allowing me to be able to walk again, albeit with help at the moment. Five hundred-four hours of trying to remember something, anything. Thirty Thousand, two-hundred forty minutes of feeling alone, as if I have no one. At least no one who can understand what I’m going through.
But finally, I’m going home.
I release a loud sigh as the nurse wheels me through the entrance doors, just as a multicolored old rust-bucket pulls beneath the awning.
I cringe at the thought that this may be the carriage that my Coachman has brought me to ride home in. The carriage is a multicolored- and I don’t mean two-toned, like it was done on purpose-1976 Chevy in varying shades of gray, white, blue, red, and green. And boy is it a beater of a truck.
The nurse helps me from the wheelchair, arranging the crutches beneath my arms as I try to stay steady on my weak and wobbly legs.
Once set, I lean my weight against the crutches and turn my head to watch as my personal chauffeur retreats back into the building, allowing me a few more moments before I have to face River and the contraption he calls a truck.
Slowly, I turn back towards River and the monstrosity before me, nervousness racing through my veins as the thought of climbing into such a deathtrap.
How does he expect me to step foot into that thing after what I’ve been through? Even if I don’t remember…
“Can’t...” I pause, clearing my throat as I try to figure out how to proceed delicately. He’s been so nice, the last thing that I want to do is offend him. “Can I use your phone?” I ask, holding out my hand as River rounds the backside of the truck.
“Sure, what for?” He asks, as he reaches into his front pocket, pulling it out and then holding it out to me.
I take it, turning away from him, as I try to hide the screen while pulling up Google and searching for the local Taxi company.
“Umm...nothing...just need to make a call...” I murmur as I find the number that I’m looking for and hit dial.
“Who are you calling? I mean, I don’t mean to sound callous but...you’ve been in a coma for two years with no record of family and no one that has visited according to hospital records.” What in the actual fuck is he doing looking at my Hospital records?
“How would you...” I start but don’t get to finish as I’m interrupted by him, explaining how he knows such things.
“Look, I’ve been coming here for a long time. I pay attention. And sometimes I put my nose where it doesn’t belong.” He says, shrugging a shoulder as if it’s not that big of a deal.
*Not a big deal?
He invaded my privacy!*
“So, you’re telling me that you looked at my file?” I ask, as I stare at him in disbelief. Who does this guy think he is?
Using one of the crutches to hold steady, I back away from him, the phone still to my ear as it seems to ring for hours.
“That’s not important. Come on. Get in. I’ll take you to the address on your license. Take you home.” He’s giving me that drop your panties grin, but something’s holding me back. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t remember anything. Or it could be that he’s practically a stranger. But whatever the reason, I really don’t want to get into that monstrosity he calls a truck.
“I’m not getting into that deathtrap with you…I’ll take a cab, thank you…if they would ever answer the freaking phone!” I shout, hanging up and dialing again.
“This baby…” he says, patting the blue and green fender as though it’s his most prized possession. “Come on...she’s completely safe.”
“I’m not really willing to take my chances...considering. But…thank you…” I shake my head no for emphasis, but not chancing turning my back away from him as I continue to listen to the ringing of the phone as it goes unanswered.
“She’s probably sturdier than most vehicles on the road today.” Clapping his hand against the fender once again, he tilts his head to the side, as though considering something. A look of understanding crosses his features along with another one that causes my stomach to turn. It’s one that I’m not looking forward to receiving many times over, as I know I will.
*Sympathy.
I don’t want anyone’s sympathy.*
He walks towards me, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his tattered jeans. He shoots me a kind smile, and shrugs. “Look, I know you don’t really know me. I also know that this must be pretty scary, all things considered. But they aren’t answering the phone, obviously. And you can’t leave here without a place to go. I would kick myself in the ass if I left you here and didn’t make sure that you made it home safely. Please?” Removing his right hand from his pocket, River places it in front of me, waiting for me to hang up the phone and give it back to him.
Maybe, I don’t want to give up control. Everything is just so screwed up that I don’t know which way is forward from backwards. And perhaps, there is a reason that I’m hesitant to get into this heap of metal with River, but he’s been so nice to me and I want to trust him, I really do.
I have no one that I know of. I can’t remember anyone. I don’t know if I’m an only child, or just one of many. I don’t know if my parents and I got along, if we were at odds or if they’re even alive. I couldn’t tell you who my best friend is or if I even have one. For all I know, my friends are cats.
- Do I even like cats?
Or am I more of a dog person?
Neither?
I have no answers.
No one and nothing.
Except for River.
I have River.
So why the hesitation?*
Giving in, I nod my head yes. “Okay...” I finally whisper, pulling the device from my ear and hitting the end button on the screen. I return the phone to his awaiting hand but turn away from him for a moment to myself before I shuffle over to the cab and climb into the awaiting truck with him. My eyes begin to well with tears and the show of weakness pisses me off, causing a gasping sob to break free of my throat.
“Hey…” He says, placing a gentle hand upon my shaking shoulder. Coming around to face me head on, his hand forces my chin up and I find his turbulent grey eyes looking at me, into me, as though he understands everything that I’m going through and feeling. Strong arms pull me into his chest, almost causing me to lose my balance as one of the crutches falls when he tightens his arms around my trembling body.
Ignoring the fallen crutch, his hold remains firm. “It’s going to be okay. Alright, Chevy? Everything will be okay.” I want to believe him, but I don’t know how everything can be. “There’s no rush. We can stand here for as long as you need.” His breath tickles my ear as he murmurs the very words that I need to hear, exactly when I need to hear them as though he knows my every thought.
My heart is beating wildly against my ribcage and I have no doubt that he can feel it too. His arms tighten, as one of his hands begins to stroke my arm, “It’s going to be okay.” He murmurs again, reassuring me over and over again as I tremble in his arms.
We stand on the sidewalk for what could be minutes or hours. I can’t really tell you for sure. All that I know is that my legs feel as though they’re on fire when I finally pull back, looking River in the eyes and seeing all the answers and reassurance that I need. In that very moment, I know that no matter what, everything will be okay, just like he said they would be.
“Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s go find where I live.” I say, staring into River’s dark gray orbs and forcing myself to step out of his embrace. I attempt to bend to grab the fallen crutch as his strong-arm wraps around my waist.
“I got it.” He says with a smirk, his stormy eyes never leaving mine as he bends down lifting the fallen crutch from the concrete.
River opens the passenger door for me, and with his assistance, I climb inside. The bench seat is much more comfortable than I would have imagined, and my screaming muscles immediately sigh in relief.
In the few moments it takes him to round the truck, I take in the interior from the updated sound system, to the polished wood trim and console. The whole interior of the trucks appears as though it’s been remodeled. A complete contradiction to the outside.
“Where to?” River asks, putting the stick shift into first gear and flicking on the blinker, signaling that we’re leaving to any passing traffic.
“Umm...” I say, fishing the piece of plastic from the wallet buried in my purse. “1212 Waterloo Rd. Apt B16.” I stare at the picture, not recognizing the person staring back at me. She has the same blonde hair as me, along with the same strange blue eyes that were staring at me from the mirror. But the girl in the picture is so different from me. She had friends and a family. Memories of a life now forgotten. She looks so happy. I can’t help but wonder if I will ever be the person that I was before. And if not, if I’m better or worse for it.
“1212 Waterloo Rd, right?” River asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“We’re already here?” I ask, confused. Was I really lost in my own head for that long?
“Yeah, as long as this address is correct. It was only about a twelve-minute drive from the hospital.” I nod my head in acknowledgement as River pulls into an empty space at the front of the apartment building.
We both open the doors and I wait for River to grab my crutches from the truck bed before stepping out. The air is hot and thick with humidity, and with leaving the cool air-conditioned cab, my hair begins to stick to the back of my neck and forehead almost immediately.
“What was the apartment number again?” River asks, walking slowly as I hobble, and he saunters up to the front of the apartment building.
“B16...” I mumble, glancing at each of the numbers against the concrete wall of the building. I groan once I find the numbers that I’m looking for.
“What?” River asks, looking over at me with a worried expression on his face.
Pointing to the numbers on the second floor of the outside of the building, I groan again. “Of course, it just had to be on the second floor, didn’t it?”
“At least it isn’t on the fourth floor.” River begins walking towards the east side of the building, finding a staircase that leads to the second floor. I pause at the bottom of the staircase, unsure of how I am going to manage my way up with my weakened muscles and these danged crutches.
- I’ll just have to wait down here*, I think to myself, but before I get to utter the words, my legs come out from beneath me and I am hauled against a strong chest.
“What the hell? Put me down!” I shout as he begins making his way up the iron staircase, the crutches dangling from my hands.
We come to a stop in front of the door labeled B16 and River puts me back on my feet, steadying me as I right my crutches. Butterflies erupt inside of my stomach and my legs begin to shake as I peer at the wooden door before me. I’m nervous.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” River asks, turning to me instead of knocking on the door.
“I’m sure. I’m nervous but this is my home, right? Regardless of what’s on the other side of that door, it’s still home.” River reaches down, twining his fingers through mine and gives my hand a slight squeeze but not releasing me as he raises his left hand to knock on the wooden door.
“Well as long as you’re sure.” He says, the words followed by three wraps on the wood. We wait in silence for several moments, looking from one another and then back to the door a few times before we hear something on the other side.
The door cracks an inch or so, revealing a woman’s face, curling brown hair falling into her green eyes.
“Can I help you?” She asks through the slightly open, still locked door.
River squeezes my hand once again, giving me the encouragement that I need to speak up.
“Umm…my name is Chevelle Daniels and I think this is my apartment...” I manage to get the words out without stammering too terribly much.
The woman’s eyes widen in surprise before filling with sadness. “Oh, dear. I am so sorry, but I’ve lived in the apartment for almost two years now. It will be two years next month.” She gives me a sad smile and then looks from me to River, then acts like she’s fixing to shut the door on us. She mutters what sounds like an I’m sorry but it’s hard to make out from the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
“Wait!” River shouts, placing his hand against the closing door. The woman opens it again slightly, peering through the crack. “What about the stuff that she had in here? Do you know what happened to it?”
“You should ask the manager, Harold. He should be in the office. It’s on the first floor, the only door on the south side of the building.” The woman murmurs, closing the door once again, only slower this time.
“Thank you.” I manage to mumble, as my chest begins to burn and my eyes ache as the hope that I had carried for some sort of anything crashes down on me.
“Good luck child and I’m glad that you made it.”
The door shuts with a click; cutting me off to the only real possibility I may have had to getting answers as to who I am, or who I was.
“What am I going to do, River? I have no place to stay?” I cry into his shirt outside of apartment B12 of the Rolling Hills apartments on Waterloo Rd and River lets me, running his hand up and down my back murmuring reassurances into my ear of how everything will be okay.