The Wreck

Chapter 1 | Remembrance: A Re-Writing

Welcome to Remembrance!

I’m thrilled to have you here. This is the first chapter in my serialized novel. If you’re new ‘round these parts, you can check out the Table of Contents here. The first five chapters of this novel are free to read; to read the rest, upgrade to a paid subscription for the cost of an ebook:

In this chapter, Leah misses an important appointment with her neurologist, and the office seems more concerned by her absence than even she is.

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Photo by Carlos Alberto Gómez Iñiguez on Unsplash

Leah checked her watch again as she pulled to a stop at the red light. 2:57. She should just make it. She’d been late to her neurology appointment last month, and there was going to be a fee if she was late again this month.

The light turned green, and Leah eased her foot off the brake and onto the gas. She could see the sign for the office up ahead on her right, and she flipped her blinker on. In her passenger-side window, a truck raced toward her. Her heartbeat quickened.

Is he going to stop?

He wasn't.

Her body jerked sideways, forcing her head into the window just as the side airbag deployed. The car spun around in the intersection a full rotation and a half before skidding to a stop. Dazed, Leah looked around, waiting for the ringing in her ears to cease. Her head was pounding and she could feel her pulse throughout her entire body.

Someone knocked on her door and she jumped. The door began to open next to her and a face appeared. “Are… are you okay?”

Leah paused before responding. “I think so?”

“Oh thank God,” the face replied, releasing a huge pent-up sigh. “I am so sorry.”

Blinking heavily to clear her mind, Leah turned to see who was standing outside her car. A young man, maybe even just a teenager. She realized he was still talking: “…going to kill me when she finds out I took her truck. I’m so glad you’re okay, I think I would have been grounded for forever if you’d’ve been really hurt…”

She tuned him out again to focus on breathing deeply for a moment, bringing her attention to each part of her body in turn. Other than the headache and a sore left shoulder, she seemed to be okay.

“… called the police, I think that’s what I’m supposed to do, and here’s my driver’s license and my insurance cards, I grabbed my health insurance and my car insurance because no one ever specifies which one you’re supposed to have with you, are you okay you haven’t said anything and I…”

“I’m okay,” Leah interrupted him. “Please stop talking.”

“Ah, I’m sorry I’m just really nervous I’ve never been in a wreck before and I just got my driver’s license and my mom is going to be furious that I wrecked her truck, she…”

“Please. Stop talking. My head is killing me.”

“I’ve got some Ibuprofen in my car I’ll go grab it.”

Leah tried to turn and watch as he hopped off. Her neck had other ideas, and she winced in pain before turning her whole body instead. A little smoke was rising from the hood of the truck, but all things considered, the damage didn’t look too bad.

Police sirens wailed in the distance as the teenager walked back to her car with a bottle of Ibuprofen. He was on the phone, probably with his mom based on his tone. He held up two fingers, his eyes asking a question. She held up three and he passed her three pills before wandering back toward his truck. She didn’t envy him the conversation he was having.

The officer asked a few questions about what had happened, instructed both of them to take photos of the vehicles involved, and facilitated the exchange of insurance information. He suppressed a grin when the anxious teenager asked whether he meant car insurance or health insurance. Then, sirens still blaring, he stopped traffic at the intersection to allow both parties to drive off.

Sitting back in the driver’s seat of her car, Leah noticed that the pain in her neck hadn’t lessened at all. She put the car in gear and righted herself on the road. However, by the time she’d reached the first available driveway to turn off the road again, she’d come to the conclusion it would not be safe for her to drive. She pulled out her phone and whispered a quiet thanks when it was answered on the first ring.

“Leah?”

“Hey, Sarah. Do you have a meeting tonight?” Leah’s neighbor, Sarah, did business development for a local non-profit and often worked evenings.

“Not tonight. What’s up?”

“I got into a car accident. Some teenage boy was texting or something and ran a red light. He hit my car and spun me out… anyway, I’ve got terrible whiplash and don’t think it’s safe to drive home.”

“I’m there. Let me text Connor, too, and maybe he can drive your car.” Connor, Sarah’s husband, taught at the all-boys middle school in their neighborhood. “Where are you?”

“I’m…” she looked around, searching for street signs. Then her eyes scanned past the sign for her neurologist and she sighed. “I’m at my neurologist’s office. That’s where I was headed when I got hit. I’m going to have to pay the no-show fee. I hope they can reschedule…”

“You’re spiraling,” Sarah interrupted. “You can deal with all of that tomorrow. Text me the address. How far away is the office from the apartment?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect. Connor said he’ll be home from school in ten, so we’ll be there in half an hour. Sit and rest, but try not to fall asleep. If you’ve got a headache and whiplash you might have a concussion, too. Put on an audiobook or something.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Leah replied, her voice equal parts sarcastic, grateful, and exhausted.

“Anytime, dear.”

The call ended and Leah texted Sarah the address of her neurologist’s office. 4:15. She’d completely missed her appointment. Five missed calls and two voicemails from the office’s number confirmed that she would, in fact, be required to pay the no-show fee. The receptionist was speaking quickly, almost too quickly to understand, and the voicemail was rambling. It could have just been the concussion speaking, but Leah would almost have said the voicemail sounded… scared.

Sarah’s voice echoed in her mind that she could call and deal with it tomorrow, so she put on an audiobook. In spite of herself, she closed her eyes.

Another knock on the window startled her awake. Sarah’s face smiled at her sympathetically through the glass, framed by her curly dark hair. Connor walked up behind her, still wearing his button down and tie from school.

“Hey, girl.” Her voice was muffled. Leah opened the door and paused the audiobook, which was still droning on after lulling her to sleep.

“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.” She let Connor help her out of her car and into theirs, handing him her keys. Sarah slid into the driver’s seat next to her, and both cars pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’m going to take you to an urgent care,” Sarah said, pulling directions up on her phone. Her tone indicated that this was not up for discussion. “How are you feeling?”

“I mean… I could be worse, but this headache gives me a bad feeling about tomorrow…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I’m seeing the neurologist,” she gestured towards the office as they passed it, “for migraines. I’ve had them since I was young, and I’m really hoping this treatment can help me manage them better… Since I missed the appointment, I’m really worried it’s going to wear off. Plus, I’m out of medication; I was going to get my refill today.”

“Treatment? Medication?”

“It’s a clinical trial but so far it’s been working wonders. I don’t totally know how it works — migraines are such a complex topic as it is — but they hook me up to the console for about half an hour once a month, and then they send me home with the medication. I was having three or four migraines a month before I started about a year ago, but I’ve only had one or two since then.”

“Shoot. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah. But I’ve never missed an appointment before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Leah. You can call them tomorrow.”

The doctor at the urgent care gave Leah the all-clear to return home, instructing her to ice her neck for a day or so, stay on top of the pain meds, and take it easy. When the girls finally pulled back into the apartment complex, Sarah walked her into her room, tucked her in, and turned out the lights.

“Thanks, Mom.” This time there was no sarcasm, only gratitude.

“Good night, Leah. I’m going to give your office a call and tell them you won’t be in tomorrow, and I’ll text you in the morning to see how you’re feeling.”

Leah was asleep before Sarah finished her sentence.

She slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night, plagued by nebulous dreams that dissipated like smoke from the hood of a pickup truck when she awoke, leaving her with a vague sense of unease.

Her head was still pounding when the sun rose, tendrils of soft morning light creeping around her curtains. The clock read 7:53, and for a moment, Leah panicked. Then she remembered that Sarah was going to call in sick for her, so she rolled back over and went back to sleep. Finally, around 10:00, she awoke, feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks. Her headache had subsided — temporarily, she was certain — and her muscles, while still stiff, weren’t clenched in stress or anxiety.

Wow. Maybe I need to sleep in more often. This is amazing.

Leah moved slowly to get out of bed, careful not to turn her neck too quickly or too far. As she prepared a cup of coffee and scrambled some eggs, she realized that it truly had been a long time — far too long — since she’d taken a day off. She opened the windows around her apartment, letting the cool fall breeze fill her home and her soul with a deep breath.

How is it that a car accident gives me the most relaxing day I’ve had in months?

After enjoying a slow and quiet breakfast, Leah finally called her neurologist’s office. The prospect didn’t exactly thrill her, as she knew she was in for a talking-to about courtesy and punctuality.

“Hello, thank you for calling the McNeill Institute for Neurological Development; this is Natalie speaking. How may I help you?” asked a friendly voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Natalie. I was in a car accident yesterday and missed my appointment, so I need to reschedule.”

“I can definitely help you with that. Can you give me your name and date of birth so I can access your account?”

Leah obliged and was a little confused by the receptionist’s audible intake of breath as she did so. She steeled herself for the lecture.

“Leonora Harvey, you said?”

“Yes ma’am. I was scheduled for a three o’clock session yesterday and due for a medication refill. I’m enrolled in the clinical migraine study.”

“Yes, I see that.” The receptionist paused again. She sounded almost pensive, but Leah decided there must be a distraction in the office. “Okay, Ms. Harvey, I assume you’re hoping to come in as soon as possible to get that refill, correct?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m already off next Tuesday for another appointment. Do you have any availability in the afternoon?”

There was a sound of clattering keys on the other end. “Umm… It looks like we’re full on Tuesday… Please hold.” A pause. Leah expected to be transferred to a holding line, but instead heard a muffled conversation, as if the receptionist had simply placed her palm over the handset. She strained to make out what they were saying.

“…Leah Harvey… monitoring her carefully… our chance to assess… Tuesday… cancel the three o’clock… need to prioritize…”

“Ms. Harvey, are you still there?” Leah was startled by the receptionist’s sudden return.

“Yes ma’am.”

“I can make Tuesday work. Would three o’clock still be the best time for you?”

“I can do another day if you’re full on Tuesday.”

“No, no. It’s critical that we get you in as quickly as possible… After all, we can’t have you missing a treatment, now, can we?”

“Oh, okay,” Leah replied uneasily. “Then yes, three sounds good. You sound quite urgent — is it very bad if I’m late on a treatment?”

The receptionist sounded a little flustered, as if she hadn’t expected her change in tone to be noticed. “Oh, well, no, it’s just that… well, since it’s a clinical trial and all… Dr. Pierucci wants to make sure we do things by the book.”

“I see.”

There was a pause as each woman waited for the other to speak. Eventually Natalie said: “Well, I’ve got you scheduled for three o’clock on Tuesday. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I believe I owe a no-show fee for missing yesterday’s appointment.”

“Yes, I see that here on your account. Would you like to pay now or wait until Tuesday when you come in?”

“Tuesday will be fine, if you’re in no rush.”

“I’ll make a note on your file, then. We look forward to seeing you, Ms. Harvey. Please let us know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The line disconnected. While the conversation itself had gone much more smoothly than she’d anticipated — no lecture at all and a grace period to pay her fee — something about the receptionist’s tone left a knot in the pit of her stomach. After noting the appointment in her phone’s calendar, she tried to return to the peaceful mood she’d enjoyed all morning, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the whole situation.

The anxiety led her to notice everything around her apartment that needed to be done, and she busied herself for about an hour until a knock on her door startled her out of her worry-induced tidying.

Leah’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She crept toward the door and brought her eye to the peep hole. Sarah’s concerned face stared back at her through the peep hole. Leah opened the door slowly, her heart still pounding.

“Hey, girl, I brought you some food. I think you’ve mentioned before that you like tacos? I can’t stay. My lunch break isn’t that long, but I hope you’re feeling be…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed Leah’s pale skin and hunted gaze. “Are you… is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just still a little out of it.” Leah took the bag from her, not wanting to talk about her inexplicable anxiety. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course…” Sarah’s tone was confused, drained of its usual warmth. “Well, I guess just get some rest. I’ll plan to come back this afternoon and check on you. Glad you were able to reschedule your appointment.” She offered a half-wave and turned back toward the parking lot.

Leah waved back, closing the door behind her as Sarah walked off. As she replayed the conversation in her mind, she froze. Something Sarah had said - she mentioned rescheduling the doctor’s appointment.

Her heart sunk as Natalie’s words echoed in her mind: “…Leah Harvey… monitoring her carefully… our chance to assess… Tuesday… cancel the three o’clock… need to prioritize…”

I didn’t tell Sarah I’d rescheduled my appointment.

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