Big Maria by Shaw Johnny Read Free Book Online
Authors: Shaw Johnny
and Mr. Martinez in the ICU.
He tried prayer, but it gave him no solace. The sound of his voice only made him feel more alone.
In his younger days, he had done things that he regretted. But since Rosie’s birth, he had done everything to live a Christian life. To have a positive impact on the world. To be good. But trying wasn’t enough. Being good wasn’t all that mattered. For all the pleases and thank-yous, you could still do damage. You could still destroy. People could still die. And praying wasn’t going to bring them back.
No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, the dead haunted him.
According to the doctors, he would be in the hospital for at least a week. He was banged up from head to toe, but it was his left arm and shoulder that was the major concern. The skin and muscle were worn to the bone from where they had scraped against the tarmacadam. More than half of his deltoid muscle had been erased, shredded into a mutilated tatter of meat. The skin at the edges of the massive wound had been cauterized from the friction. A specialist was brought in to assess how much of the muscle would heal and how much strength and movement he would have. The man concluded that avoiding amputation would be considered a win.
Flavia tried to cheer up Ricky, but sometimes optimism and aphorisms are exactly what one doesn’t want to hear. When she had run out of things to say, she would repeat how much she loved him and how she would always stick by his side. Ricky knew she meant it. He knew that it was true, but the truth hurt. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to jump off the cliff with him.
“What’re we going to do?” Ricky asked her.
“You’re going to get better. That’s all that’s important right now.” Flavia cried. She cried for most of the visit.
“I may be out a month. No job. The bus was all I had.”
“You’ll find something.”
“Lot of jobs for a one-armed man. Human slot machine, maybe.”
“That’s not funny.”
“What is?”
It wouldn’t take long before the medical bills and the lawsuits and the insurance companies and the cops began their siege. Not right away, but soon. They would wait until he was healthy before they tried to destroy him. They wouldn’t want him to trip and break his neck on the way to the gallows.
He knew that he might have to cut Flavia and Rosie loose. It wasn’t an easy thought to think. It wasn’t what he wanted, but itmight be the only way to protect them. If things went sideways, the farther his family got from him, the happier their lives would be.
Knowing this, he couldn’t look his daughter in the eye. And nothing hurt more. Rosie was too young to understand exactly what was happening, but she could sense the pain in her father’s face. Not his physical pain, but something deeper.
“Don’t be sad, Daddy,” she said, as if it were that easy.
Ricky ran his uninjured hand through her soft hair and smiled weakly. After he kissed Rosie good-bye, he whispered to Flavia not to bring her by anymore. He might deserve to be punished for everything that happened, but not like that.
Before Flavia left, she said to him, “They led full lives. It was their time. Mr. Jimenez was ninety-two.”
She was trying to make him feel better, but somehow that made it worse. These people had survived wars and hardships and their own families only to be killed by an obstinate mule deer and a panicked bus driver.
R icky was wrong. The cops didn’t wait for Ricky to get healthier. The blues, grays, and browns of their uniforms stood out brightly against the pea-green hospital walls. The Imperial County Sheriff’s Office headed the investigation, but representatives of the California Highway Patrol, the Riverside Sheriff’s Department, and the Blythe city cops all felt the need to include themselves. The accident had happened well south of the county line, so there was no reason for any of them to be involved, but everyone wanted the chance to
He tried prayer, but it gave him no solace. The sound of his voice only made him feel more alone.
In his younger days, he had done things that he regretted. But since Rosie’s birth, he had done everything to live a Christian life. To have a positive impact on the world. To be good. But trying wasn’t enough. Being good wasn’t all that mattered. For all the pleases and thank-yous, you could still do damage. You could still destroy. People could still die. And praying wasn’t going to bring them back.
No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, the dead haunted him.
According to the doctors, he would be in the hospital for at least a week. He was banged up from head to toe, but it was his left arm and shoulder that was the major concern. The skin and muscle were worn to the bone from where they had scraped against the tarmacadam. More than half of his deltoid muscle had been erased, shredded into a mutilated tatter of meat. The skin at the edges of the massive wound had been cauterized from the friction. A specialist was brought in to assess how much of the muscle would heal and how much strength and movement he would have. The man concluded that avoiding amputation would be considered a win.
Flavia tried to cheer up Ricky, but sometimes optimism and aphorisms are exactly what one doesn’t want to hear. When she had run out of things to say, she would repeat how much she loved him and how she would always stick by his side. Ricky knew she meant it. He knew that it was true, but the truth hurt. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to jump off the cliff with him.
“What’re we going to do?” Ricky asked her.
“You’re going to get better. That’s all that’s important right now.” Flavia cried. She cried for most of the visit.
“I may be out a month. No job. The bus was all I had.”
“You’ll find something.”
“Lot of jobs for a one-armed man. Human slot machine, maybe.”
“That’s not funny.”
“What is?”
It wouldn’t take long before the medical bills and the lawsuits and the insurance companies and the cops began their siege. Not right away, but soon. They would wait until he was healthy before they tried to destroy him. They wouldn’t want him to trip and break his neck on the way to the gallows.
He knew that he might have to cut Flavia and Rosie loose. It wasn’t an easy thought to think. It wasn’t what he wanted, but itmight be the only way to protect them. If things went sideways, the farther his family got from him, the happier their lives would be.
Knowing this, he couldn’t look his daughter in the eye. And nothing hurt more. Rosie was too young to understand exactly what was happening, but she could sense the pain in her father’s face. Not his physical pain, but something deeper.
“Don’t be sad, Daddy,” she said, as if it were that easy.
Ricky ran his uninjured hand through her soft hair and smiled weakly. After he kissed Rosie good-bye, he whispered to Flavia not to bring her by anymore. He might deserve to be punished for everything that happened, but not like that.
Before Flavia left, she said to him, “They led full lives. It was their time. Mr. Jimenez was ninety-two.”
She was trying to make him feel better, but somehow that made it worse. These people had survived wars and hardships and their own families only to be killed by an obstinate mule deer and a panicked bus driver.
R icky was wrong. The cops didn’t wait for Ricky to get healthier. The blues, grays, and browns of their uniforms stood out brightly against the pea-green hospital walls. The Imperial County Sheriff’s Office headed the investigation, but representatives of the California Highway Patrol, the Riverside Sheriff’s Department, and the Blythe city cops all felt the need to include themselves. The accident had happened well south of the county line, so there was no reason for any of them to be involved, but everyone wanted the chance to