And I wake up, the sun is beautiful. Who: Saints Margaret & Joan What: An unexpected meeting. Semi-narrative, open to Jo. When: Thursday. Where: Lawrence Memorial Hospital, KS. Warnings: TBD.
One not so very special day, a little girl went riding her bike.
She knew the roads of Lawrence well, having grown up on them, having gone to school on them, having watched her mother drive to the ice cream parlor down all the twisty parts and the intersections. She had seen a cul-de-sac not too far from her house, had wanted to ride circles in it with her new bike until she was dizzy from the euphoria of seeing things blur around her. She had not asked. Her mommy didn't like it when she went riding all alone, but today -- today her single mother had a business meeting at 10:00, and the roads were as clear as the day was bright. Today, she would feel the wind in her hair and go around, around, around. It wouldn't be for long. Mommy wouldn't know.
The kickstand came up, her helmet firmly secured, hands twisting the rubber on the handles. She made sure the garage door was shut and the house locked so that nobody would break in while she was away (Mommy had made that very clear many times before, you know. Be safe, sweetheart, always take precautions) and even though she would only be a few minutes, the little girl found it very important to follow her mother's other instructions even when she was breaking the rules.
Road clear, inching forward, out the driveway.
But -- and there is always a but -- something went wrong in those promised few minutes, as things often do. The little girl missed a turn somewhere. Found herself in an unfamiliar place, heading into town, down a hill, down a steep hill, steeper than she'd done before. A long, drawn-out decline, that made the wheels turn faster, and she did go faster, and oh but it was wonderful! It was a challenge, it wasn't scary, it felt like she was flying down that hill as traffic roared past her on the street. It was all rushing past her now, lines blurring. Quickly, quickly, quickly! Why had Mommy denied her this?
The bump in the sidewalk came up to her before she could stop.
Her heart clammed up, stopped for a weightless moment as fear pierced it. Eyes wide, helpless to gravity and futile breaks, the bike hit. Wobbled dangerously, wobbled and teetered for excruciating seconds as it zoomed down the home stretch. And then fell.
******
The ambulance flew through traffic, making hurried time to Lawrence Memorial. The young woman who had seen the little girl crash just outside the motel had insisted on riding with them, spoke up in an authoritative tone of voice that brooked no arguments, a tone that commanded absolute respect. The doctor had shrugged -- okay, whatever (he couldn't have said no if he'd wanted to) -- and they had climbed into the back.
The young woman had wiped away the child's tears and held her hand, her own eyes hard as stone. "You know her at all?" the doctor had asked tentatively, seeing the conviction with which the young woman comforted the girl.
"No," she had said. "But when somebody gets hurt, knowing them shouldn't matter."
The kid was out cold before they arrived, but the ambulance doctor had directed the young woman to the pediatrics foyer if she wanted to wait while the patient had the kickstand removed from her shin. A hour later, the glass door slid open and admitted the child's attending to the waiting room; she took two steps, looked at the woman sitting on the couch, and stopped cold.