The Impala Driver

14 June - 5:03 p.m.

I practically skip out of the office and run to my car. My keys jingle in my hands,

unlocking the door. Once in my car, I turn on the radio, where Katrina and the Waves greet me:

“I'm walking on sunshine, whoa! And don't it feel good!” It does. It does feel good.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, toying with the concept of calling Kevin. I’ll just

surprise him with my promotion when I get home, instead. He’ll know that all my late nights

were worth it. I finally did it! We did it!

Her tires glide along the pavement, and out of the parking garage. Down, down, down,

we go: 3rd level. 2nd level. 1st level. I take her around the corner, and we stop at the light. My

hands slide gently over the top of the sleek leather steering wheel. What a beautiful machine.

Rosemary is a red Chevy Camaro ZL1 with black racing stripes, leather seats - 650 horsepower,

0-60 in 3.5 seconds. I rev the engine, staring at the stoplight, anticipating the green signal.

The engine buzzes with excitement as the little silver Impala pulls up to my right. I stare

down the driver and rev my engine. He revs his too, returning the look. Yeah. Like you’re going

to beat me in THAT. He gestures to the ½ mile stretch ahead, with a nod, shaking his soft, brown

curls. My shoulders shrug, revving Rosemary’s engine again, inching forward. He matches my

energy as we wait for green. I smirk, mouthing “You’re on,” watching the opposite lights

change: green, to yellow, to red. Here we go. I nod at the driver, staring down his brown eyes.

The light turns, I feel Rosemary move and listen to sounds of tires peeling on the road.

Then everything goes black.

--
 I was packing my bag, leaving the office for the first time in three days. It was 7 a.m. My

hair was a mess, and I was desperate for a shower.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” I apologized to Rosemary, her passenger seat covered in McDouble

and McChicken wrappers, days’ worth. I left the parking garage and drove the one block to

Polly’s Fitness, where I was greeted by Greta as I walked in the door, my duffel bag in tow.

“Hello, again, Ella! Shower number 3 is ready for you, and I’ve already added

complimentary shampoo and conditioner, your favorite scents, since you are such a devote

member and have used this feature 13 times this month!”

“Thanks, Greta!” I headed to the front desk for our usual chat.

“How’s that promotion comin’ along? How’s Kevin doing?”

“I am so close to Communication Director; I just know it!” I felt the tiredness weigh me

down, physically. “I just want this job promotion so bad, so that I can get back home and plan

this wedding with Kevin. He’s not taking my work hours very well… often times he spends most

nights alone, but you know, we text, and I call when I can. He knows this will all be worth it

when I get the job and we can move somewhere better.”

Greta nodded her head, understanding, “I get you. I get it. Kevin is a very lucky man, and

I’m sure he understands.”

I nodded, tapped the counter, and headed towards the shower. “I hope you’re right…”

--

15 June – 3:45 p.m.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

 My eyes open slowly to find nothing but a white blur in front of me. I blink quickly,

trying to clear my vision. I close them again, starting to panic, and open them slowly to find my

feet buried beneath a thin little sheet and an empty room.

I try to lift my head. It’s as if a tornado is running its way through – a war path from one

side to the other. My eyes close to avoid the light, but instead I’m met with an insistent ringing.

A nurse hurries in room as I lift my arm to steady my head.

“No, honey, don’t do that. You need to rest. Put that arm down now.” She walks straight

to the bed, grabs my arm as gently as possible, and rests it in my lap.

My eyes open again, and my mouth tries to speak. Nothing comes out.

“Don’t try to talk, now.” She moves her fingers to my lips to prevent me from talking,

shaking her head as if to scold a child. “Are you in any pain?”

I feel my head nod slowly.

“Okay, honey. We’ll up your pain medication in a little while.” She smiles, kindness in

her eyes.

“Whus-” comes out the mushed attempt at what.

“Shhhh. Shhh. Shhh. Oh, sweetie, don’t talk now. You just had brain surgery. Really, you

should just try to heal.” She stands at the nearby computer, punching in information. Click.

Click. Clicking away.

My eyes must seem to pop out of my head.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Click. Click. Click.

I feel my head slowly move from side to side.

 Her face falls, but only for a moment. Her smile returning, she playfully thumps her

forehead, “Silly me. I shouldn’t expect you to remember what happened.” She looks calm and

her voice comes out soft, “Sweetie, you were in a car crash.”

I was WHAT?! My chest rises and falls a little faster – heart beating a little quicker.

“You, and the car next to you, both. From what the semi driver who hit you said, he just

lost control, running through the red light, and ramming straight into your driver’s door, which

shoved your car into the one next to you. I think it was an Impala? Don’t worry, though, the

other driver is fine. He has a sprained wrist and a couple bruises, but he’s going to be just fine.”

She rests her hand on mine, her eyes are warm, sympathetic. Her smile returns. “We’ll get you

all fixed up and send you on your way in just a few days. We just need to make sure your

recovery is going well before we can send you home.”

Home. My heart beats in my head now. I can only feel my chest rising and falling, hear

myself breathing, panicking. Home. Kevin.

“Ke- KA- Ke-” I scowled in frustration. Home. Kevin.

“What is it?” She looks concerned.

Kevin. Home. I try to get up. I need to call Kevin. Where is he? Is he okay? Does he know

where I am? Where exactly am I?

“Honey, stop! You have got to quit trying to move.” I felt firm arms on my shoulders.

She looks serious now, her smile leaves her face quickly. “Barnes, get in here!”

Kevin. I looked down at the ring sitting on my left hand. I need to call Kevin. Where is

he? Where exactly am I? I manage to push past the nurse, wires and tubes following me as I sit

up in bed. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and try to stand. Oh, good heavens, if only

the ringing would stop.

 “NO! Stop moving! BARNES, WHERE ARE YOU!” Her voice echoes in the back of

my head. Kevin. I need to call Kevin. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? I try to stand, but fail,

falling when my left leg cast hits the floor and slips.

“Kev-” Strong arms envelop me, lift me from the ground and place me back in the bed as

the room around me fades.

--

I was having supper break at work again but decided to call Kevin.

“Hey babe! How’s it going?”

“I really wish you’d just come home, Ella. It’s been so long since we’ve spent any real

time together.” Kevin replied.

“What do you mean? I call you every chance I get.”

“It’s not the same, love. We’re planning a wedding that is now mere months away, and I

feel like I never see you anymore.”

“Soon, darling, soon. I am so close to this promotion. I can feel it! It’ll be worth it for us

both. I promise! We’ll finally be able to get you that matching Camaro you’ve always wanted,

and we’ll be able to afford living in our place without having to work overtime all the time.”

“I never cared about living here.”

“But, why?” I questioned, “It speaks to our class and prestige. You have to have a place

like this to host the greatest parties at, or we’ll never get anywhere in our careers.”

Kevin was silent on the other end.

I spoke up again, “How are the center pieces coming for the reception?” I questioned

with a smile in my voice.

 “They’re coming along nicely,” Kevin replied, “Krystal and I have been very efficient in

completing them. She ran to get us some Chick Fil’ A for supper because she says we can’t stop

until we finish the last 10.”

Krystal - my maid of honor, and my best friend. Ever since college, Kevin, Krystal, and I

had been inseparable. Krystal and I were roommates in the dorm freshman year; we quickly

became attached at the hip. Then I met Kevin, and instantly fell in love. Ever since then, the

three of us have done everything together. Krystal is kind of a player; she struggles to find her

one true love, rather stringing guys along.

“I’m telling you, Ella, Eian is the one for me!” Krystal said, after returning to Kevin’s

and my penthouse apartment.

“Oh, is he now? That’s what you said about Trevor, Eli, Peter, George, and Jackson too.”

I chuckled over the phone.

“When have you been able to hold a guy for longer than a month?” Kevin chimed in.

“Oh, shut up, Kevin. No one asked for your opinion.” Krystal giggled.

I looked at my watch. “Well, I gotta go, you guys. Thanks, Krystal, for helping with the

center pieces! I really appreciate it!”

“No problem, bestie!”

“Byeeeee!”

I heard them laughing and giggling as the line went dead.

--

18 June – 10:30 a.m.

My eyes open slowly. The same stingy smell of the hospital room surrounds me. The

same tubes and wires come from my body. So, it wasn’t a dream.
 But something’s different. I quickly realize I am not alone. Sitting in the corner sits a

familiar looking stranger whose brown hair looks shaggy. He sits lazily, as if he’s been there

awhile. His hands hold a magazine, one with a brace, and he turns a page before lifting his head.

There they were: those deep, brown eyes.

The Impala driver smiles, “you know, we were starting to wonder if you were ever going

to wake up from that nap of yours.”

My brows furrow. My mouth opens, “How-”

He cuts me off, “No, no. Don’t talk. I was given direct orders to not let you speak.” He

stands, and my eyes follow his tall frame as he heads towards the door.

Once again, I am alone. My vision has cleared, so my eyes wander around the room - the

white ceilings, white walls, brown trim. To a door across the room, which I can only assume is

the bathroom, the cushioned chair by the window… to the machine sitting to my right, beeping

steadily to confirm my heart still beats, the IV dripping next to it.

I hear voices in the hallway. My eyes dart quickly towards the door, where the Impala

driver is standing just outside, chatting with my nurse. After a few quick sentences exchanged,

he walks back in the room, sits in the chair beside my bed, and returns to thumbing through the

magazine. What in tarnation just happened?

I can’t help but stare. Who the heck are you? His brown curls - the perfect length for his

oval face, longer on the top and shorter on the sides, look freshly combed. His deep, brown eyes

study the pages in front of him. I shuffle in the sheets, moving the pillow behind my head.

I open my mouth, take a breath, “W-”

“Nope.” He interrupts me. “No words. Don’t do it.” He lifts his head, a playful smirk on

his face.
 My brows furrow in confusion and frustration.

He chuckles, only frustrating me more.

“Why can’t I speak?” I ask.

His shoulders shrug, before his eyes widen at the realization that I just spoke. He holds

his pointer finger up at me, signaling one. “Jus-” he leaves the room.

What a strange man.

The Impala driver returns again a few minutes later, this time with a man in a white

jacket and a stethoscope around his neck. “This is Dr. Montgomery,” he says, gesturing to the

man beside him.

“Liam, that is my line, and you know that.” The new doctor scolds the Impala driver, who

I now know to be Liam.

Liam smiles and shrugs, “Habit?”

Dr. Montgomery rolls his eyes and shakes his head before his attention returns to me.

“Hello, miss. My name is Dr. Adam Montgomery, and you’ve met Dr. Thomas here. I am the

neurosurgeon who was assigned to your case. Liam, here, tells me you’ve spoken. This is very

good news!”

My brows furrow. DOCTOR Thomas?!

“Let me start over. You have a TBI, that is a traumatic brain injury, which was caused by

the impact of the semi-truck hitting the driver’s side of your vehicle. You also have a fractured

left leg. When the semi hit your car, the impact caused a trauma to your head, creating a bleed in

your frontal lobe. When you arrived in the emergency room, you were quickly rushed to surgery,

where I was assigned as your surgeon to stop the bleed. The bleed has since been stopped and we

were hoping you’d recover for a little while before we had you speak.”
 “But, why?” I interrupt him.

“The frontal lobe of the brain is this part here,” he says while pointing to the part of the

diagram towards the front of the skull.

I nod slowly, starting to understand.

“It controls movement and speech, so we wanted you to give your brain a little bit of time

to heal before we tested your speech and motor skills. We wanted to let your brain heal since one

of the possible complications is permanent damage to speech and we did not want to risk any

strain on the injury. Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s been a few days since the crash,

and you have been in and out of consciousness. We are going to run some tests, but if they come

back successful, you will be released from the hospital today or tomorrow.”

“Alright, so what happens now?”

Dr. Montgomery reaches into his pocket, pulling out a smart phone with a sparkly pink

case and the matching sparkly pink purse that were once sitting in my glove box. “First, I need to

give you these, Miss-” he cuts his sentence, reading my ID, “Ella Wently.”

I accept them, my iPhone’s crushed screen reminding me of the sounds of metal on

metal. Rosemary. My Rosemary. “Wait, what happened to Rosemary? Is she alright?”

Dr. Montgomery’s eyes furrow. “Rosemary? Is that the name of a child?”

I chuckle, “No, no, Rosemary is my car.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss, but your car made it as far as a junkyard.”

“Crap. This is NOT what I need right now.” I lift my hand to my face, massaging my

temple the way Kevin does when I have a migraine. Wait, Kevin. “Wait, where’s Kevin? Why

hasn’t anyone called him? Why hasn’t he come for me? We were just making up. Where is he?”

“Who’s Kevin?”
 “My fiancé!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one but Dr. Thomas, Nurse Jacobs, and I have been in your

room. Let me get Nurse Jacobs to see if she knows anything about, Kevin, was it?” My head

nods as my heart slumps in my chest. Dr. Montgomery’s pager beeps. Instinctively, he looks

down at it. “Now, I have to head out,” he hands a clipboard and pen to Liam, “but if the two of

you could get this filled out, that would be great!” He quickly leaves the room, leaving me with

the tall, mysterious doctor with the brown curls.

Liam clears his throat. “So, fiancé, huh?”

“Yeah, but I’ve been working so many late nights at work trying to get this promotion,

that I can’t even remember the last time I saw Kevin…” frustrated, my brows scrunch and my

fingers fidget with the blanket, trying to remember. “I finally got it. I was promoted to

Communications Director the same day the crash happened. I was heading home to tell Kevin, to

let him know that all the nights we spent apart were finally paying off.”

Liam nods his head, understanding. “My girlfriend and I split because of all the night

shifts I spent here.”

“Yeah, doctor, huh?”

“Pediatrician.” Dang, he’s cute AND good with kids. Quit it, you are engaged.

I nod my head, impressed, before laughing. “Wait, so you are a doctor. Why the heck do

you drive an Impala?”

Liam chuckles. “You see, med school is EXPENSIVE, and I’m still trying to pay it off.

Forget style, that Impala is perfect for getting to and from work.” He smiles. Butterflies fill the

empty pit in my stomach. Stop it. You have Kevin. But I can’t help it, I blush anyway.

“Sooooo, what was your name again?” Liam asks with a smirk.
 “Oh, my word, where are my manners. My name is Ella, Ella Wently.”

“Nice to meet you, Ella.” He says, extending his hand, “Liam Thomas.”

I accept his handshake, with a smile, forgetting all about Kevin, just for a moment.

--

A couple days later, Liam is opening the passenger door of his impala, grabbing my

crutches me, and helping me get in as we leave the hospital. Over the last couple days, Liam’s

helped me through all the tests, treatments, and therapies to ensure I am ready to go home. Now

that I have passed them all with flying colors, I worry about what happens next. There’s a

sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, tied in knots, the whole drive home. I sit in silence for

the first half.

Liam breaks the silence, “So, I know you’ve been through a lot, and I wanted to know if

you would keep in touch.” His cheeks flush, and I realize it took a lot of courage for him to ask.

I feel my cheeks flush in return. “Oh, yeah? What am I? Just another patient to you?” I

chuckle to lighten the feeling in the car.

“I mean…I did just help nurse you back to health.” Liam responds with a smile.

“Oh, so NURSE Thomas. Is that what I’m hearing?”

“At your service,” he replies, laughing, his eyes glancing between the road and me. His

warm smile told me he was doing his best to make me smile.

Once we arrive at the penthouse, Liam puts my key in the door and opens it for me.

There’s something about it. It feels surprisingly empty. I sit on a barstool at the counter, where a

note sits, waiting for me. Handwriting, I know so well, with my name on the front of the

envelope.

Inside, I find a letter, that reads:

 Dear Ella,

I have always loved you, and you know I always will. After spending an unknown

number of days alone in this apartment, I have decided I can no longer stand the sight of

your empty chair when we are supposed to be planning a life together, not one apart.

I was not built for this type of relationship, so I have decided to move on. By the time

you read this, I will have already packed the U-Haul and gone. Don’t worry about me. I

already have another place lined up with someone else.

Don’t be mad, and don’t hate her. She made it so I didn’t have to be alone.

I hope you get whatever it is you wanted.

Regards,

Kevin

My heart sinks. My head floods with questions. How could he do this to me? Who is she?

Doesn’t he realize I did this for us? Why didn’t he come see me? He’s listed as my emergency

contact. That means it was intentional. WHAT A JERK! I feel myself beginning to fume.

“Ella? Are you alright?” Liam’s voice brings me back to reality.

I had forgotten all about Liam. My demeanor changes. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I-”

“He left you, didn’t he?” He interrupts, a knowing glance in his eyes.

All I can do is nod.

“Oh, Ella, I am so sorry.” As if his body was thinking for him, he automatically wraps me

in an embrace as I begin to cry.

--

Two weeks later, I find myself sitting on the stool in the kitchen, crying, again.
 In my hand, sit two envelopes. The first one, Kevin’s envelope breaking up with me. The

other, just arrived in the morning mail:

Please join us in celebrating the engagement of:

Krystal Perkin & Kevin Hammond

So, I sit on that stool and let the tears pile up beneath my sleeve.

--

The next morning, I get up and get ready for work, the only thing I can use as a

distraction from Kevin leaving me. But not just for anyone, either. Some best friend she was.

How long has their affair gone on? Why didn’t I see the signs?

I can’t afford this penthouse anymore either and apartment search in the Big Apple is no

picnic. After two weeks of not working, I can’t even afford rent for next month. I stare at myself

in the mirror, having spent way too much time trying to cover my bruises from the crash with

makeup, and sigh. It was no use. 10 pounds of makeup wouldn’t be enough to lighten the areas

or cover the scars from surgery.

My phone rings. The screen reads: Caitlyn. My boss. Why would she be calling?

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ella. I’m so sorry about Kevin! I got Krystal’s invitation in the mail yesterday but

didn’t check my box until today.” Caitlyn responded.

“Yeah, thanks, Caitlyn…” I trail off.

“Anyway, I know you asked for two weeks off, but with everything going on, I’m going

to put you down for another three weeks. A mandatory furlough that you will use to recover and

recuperate. Then you can come back, start your new position. We need our leaders strong and

fresh, so take this opportunity to rest up and we’ll be in touch!”

 “But, I-”

“I know, deary. We miss you here too. Bye now!”

The line clicks.

Well, now the frick what? What else could go wrong?

My fingers toy with the concept of texting Liam, who has become like a long-lost friend

in the last two weeks, but I don’t. We made an agreement to chat every day as we both recover

from the trauma of the crash. We are supposed to check in every morning and night, and if the

other doesn’t respond within an hour, know that something might be wrong. Instead of sending

my morning check in, I set my phone on the counter.

My life is a mess.

On top of everything else, my Rosemary has been totaled and is completely

unsalvageable. But don’t worry, the man running the junkyard made sure to tell me that I was

lucky to be alive, again and again. Some consolation that is.

How can so much change in such a short time period? I can’t even walk for pete’s sake.

My phone buzzes. I ignore it. Instead, I drag my head off the countertop, grab the plate

next to me and throw it at the wall. I watch it shatter, then grab my crutches and hobble to the

terrace. The sun mocks me with its joyous rays as I open the sliding door. I don’t even make it to

the chair before my mouth opens, letting out a thunderous yell. “AHHHHHHHHHH!”

My phone buzzes again, and once more I ignore it. I turn on the stereo sitting by the

ledge, hoping to be met with something soothing, but instead, I am met with the same voices I

once celebrated. Katrina and the Waves greet me: “I'm walking on sunshine, whoa! And don't it

feel good!”

“NO! IT DOESN’T FEEL GOOD!” I scream.

 I snatch the stereo and throw it over the edge, ripping the plug out of the socket as fast as

Kevin ripped himself from my life. And just like that, it was gone. I watch it fall - down, down,

down, until it shatters in the alleyway 20 stories below.

Its destruction should have made me happy, but instead, the weight of everything brings

me down on the chair nearby, dropping my crutches next to it. My voice comes out soft, a

whisper, “no, it doesn’t feel good…”

--

I don’t know how much time passed before a knock on the door interrupts my tears. At

first, I think I’m dreaming, so I continue to sit, ignoring it.

“Ella? You home?” the smooth, familiar, voice of Dr. Thomas floats across the apartment

and out on the terrace as the knock on the door loudens.

Interrupting my thoughts with a jolt, my body takes over. Hands reach for crutches,

crutches hobble my sore, tired body across the hardwood floor, slipping in the living room, but

not falling, gradually working my way to the door.

He knocks again. “Ella?”

“Hang on, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

I open the door to find Liam’s six-foot frame filling the doorway. Words immediately

start spilling out of his mouth, “Ella, I’ve been calling you.” His right-hand scratches the back of

his head, almost nervous. His curls are ruffled. “You didn’t answer, so I got worried and came

right over. Are you- are you okay?”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. He lifts his head, and our eyes meet. His search

mine into my very soul. I never felt more vulnerable, or more safe, than in that very moment. My
eyes well, and a single tear makes its way over the edge of my eyelid. It doesn’t make it to my

cheek before a thumb, skin tough from work, wipes it away.

Without a word, he closes the door behind him, and helps me hobble to the couch. He

takes his place beside me and wraps me in an embrace. I let the tears fall, listening to the

rhythmic thumping of his heart, and in that moment, everything is okay.

Nothing else exists. No Kevin. No Krystal. Just Liam. Two lost hearts searching for hope,

friendship, and the strength to love again.