Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Eva
“What do you do when the person isn’t responsive?” Howard, the CPR instructor, walked around the room with ten students looking at the ten dummies in front of them.
“Assess for life-threatening conditions. Then immediately apply first aid,” said the class.
Every two years, I had to renew my certification to ensure I could assist my grandfather if he ever needed it.
The class also brought me one step closer to healing my organophobia or viscerophobia.
It took me a while to gather the courage to enroll in the class, but when my grandmother passed, leaving Grandpa Collins living alone, I had to do it.
The class didn’t show any actual organs, but I forced myself to look at the dummy’s anatomy, trying to calm the anxiety that always gripped me.
I was better now but still had a way to go.
Three hours later, the instructor told us our digital certification would be sent to our email.
I checked my messages, and my best friend Stori Gao said she’d be late to our lunch meetup and for me to order without her.
Clasping my purse, I left the healthcare building and hopped into my car, heading to the restaurant.
Nerves stirred within me as I drove. For the past few months, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone was watching me.
But who? I looked into the rearview mirror and saw no one suspicious.
Why would someone follow me anyway? I wasn’t a celebrity, wasn’t wealthy, and my relationship with Dennis Spielmann ended over a year ago. There was no reason for anyone to follow me. Despite that, I’d watched enough crime shows to know there were psychos out there. It was better to be cautious.
I pushed the concern aside so I could enjoy this day off from work.
I entered Set the Plates, ordered a turkey wrap, a side of fries, and a cup of coffee, and chose a table near the front door, allowing me to watch people.
Slipping off my coat, I hung it over the chair and sat down. Nerves continued to stir.
What’s going on?
My stomach grumbled, and I bit into my turkey wrap, chewed, and swallowed, assessing my situation.
The nerves started several months ago but intensified yesterday after the man asked me out at work.
He reminded me of a titan, strong and sturdy, ready for any battle.
His attractive face popped into my head, and a shiver skipped down my spine.
He was rugged, older than me, and so direct.
I’d never seen him in the store before. I remembered feeling overwhelmed yet safe in his presence.
But I didn’t trust myself with men. My ex had shredded my heart, and I’d never forget the pain and shame of the experience.
I was still trying to piece it together slowly.
Despite wanting to stay away from trouble, I’d be lying if I said the incident didn’t flatter me. No man had ever asked me out while I was at work. Sarah teased me last night during closing.
“He’s so handsome! Why don’t you go out with him? When was the last time you went on a date?”
When he looked at me, I swore my intestines knotted and unknotted themselves. But then again, that could’ve been the accumulation of unease I’d been feeling.
Trying to settle my nerves, I wrapped my fingers around the coffee mug and looked outside at the cold, dreary January day. I needed to clean up the guest room to prepare for Grandpa Collins’s visit.
A crowd of people entered the restaurant, bringing in a frigid blast of wind.
I should have sat farther back and away from the door.
But I enjoyed looking out into the street.
I spotted Stori in a gray knit hat and a matching wool coat.
Her long black hair framed her beautiful face, flushed pink from the cold.
I stood up and waved. “Over here!”
“Hey!” She hugged me, draped her coat over the chair, and sat across from me. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to help a coworker finish an interview. Tessa left for a family emergency. Not sure when she’ll be back.”
“No worries,” I said. “Hope everything’s okay with her.” Tessa was a news anchor for the In Your Neck of the Woods series for Channel 7 News.
“Her husband collapsed at work, so she’s with him at the hospital now. They’re newlyweds too. I’m assigned to take over her investigative reporting until further notice.” She sighed. “I’m hungry. Want anything else?” She gestured to my coffee, fries, and half-eaten turkey wrap.
“I’m good, thanks. You can share my fries. I won’t finish them.”
“Great. Thanks!”
While Stori waited for her food, I thought about the unpredictability of life.
At seven years old, I witnessed a horrible incident at a park when a fight broke out, and a crazed man severely slashed another man many times with a machete.
The attack was so bad his guts spilled out of him.
I’d never seen intestines until that day.
It didn’t help that my mind twisted the gruesome event.
Every time I thought about it, more details were added, making everything worse.
I developed horrible nightmares of body parts from that day onward.
A year later, my parents died in a car accident that substantially damaged their bodies.
I only found out because I overheard my grandparents talking to their friends.
My imagination soared, and the fear of organs intensified, turning into a monster I couldn’t get rid of.
But I tried my best to overcome it. Therapy didn’t work for me.
My grandparents did their best to raise me, and I loved and appreciated them. Grandma Collins passed away three years ago from pneumonia, leaving me with only Grandpa. He lived in New Hampshire and was recovering from heart valve surgery, so I asked him to come stay with me until he got better.
Stori returned with her Greek salad wrap and coffee and sat down. A streak of sun broke through the dark clouds, offering hope.
“I’m over this gloomy weather,” Stori said. “Maybe we should have a girls’ weekend getaway. Somewhere sunny and warm. Hudson has a place in Florida where we can crash.”
“It’s nice having an older brother who’s wealthy, huh?”
“He can be annoyingly protective. But that’s because of his experience,” she said, her facial expression softening. “I can’t even imagine what he endured.”
Hudson and his friends were kidnapped when they were boys. She didn’t talk about it much, and I respected that. I remembered hearing about their return on the news. But like everything else, other news took over, and the story got buried.
“How’s everything going with you?” Stori asked.
“It’s been busy at work, and I’m getting the guest room ready for my grandfather.”
“Need help?” She sipped her coffee. “How long is he staying?”
“I’m all set. Thanks, though.” I stretched my neck, trying to release the ache. “He’s staying for six months.”
Stori considered me with dark brown eyes and one arched eyebrow. “Are you okay? And don’t say brush it off. You look tired.”
“I can’t explain it.” I let out a sigh. “Been feeling off lately. Maybe I’m just worried about my grandfather.”
“Or maybe you just need to get laid.” Stori laughed.
“Look who’s talking.” I rolled my eyes.
“Being single suits me.” She smirked. “My coworker set me up on a blind date last week.”
My eyes widened. “What?” Stori had just recently broken up with her boyfriend after catching him with another woman at an event she was also attending. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was nothing worth sharing, believe me.” She waved a dismissive hand.
“The guy spent the night talking about golf and his vacation home in Hawaii. Ezra, the videographer at work, was at the same restaurant with her friends. So I invited them to join us.” She leaned in and beamed. “And guess what?”
“You like golf now?” I laughed.
“No! Ezra and the guy, Tim, couldn’t stop gushing over each other the entire night. I matched them up perfectly. Want me to introduce you to someone?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“No thanks. I’m not in the right mindset to date yet,” I said as the image of the rugged titan flashed in my head. “But a customer asked me out yesterday.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Is he cute? One of your regulars?”
“Never met him before. He’s very attractive, but I’m not ready. Besides, it’s weird going on a date with a stranger. I’m not into blind dates.”
“You need to do something fun, though. I’m attending a book signing at the Isabella Stewart Museum next Friday night. Wanna come? It’ll be fun.”
Not in the mood to socialize, I declined. “I’ll pass. How’s your novel going?”
“Still working on it. Which is why I need to attend this event so I can manifest my dream. One day I’ll be signing a book for you.”
“I wouldn’t miss that day for anything.” I smiled and finished my coffee.
A scream split the air outside. “Help! Call the police!”
Stori and I exchanged glances and rushed out the door.
We found a woman hunched over in the street, vomiting.
While Stori stayed with her, I noticed an old woman in a burgundy coat standing not too far away.
She swayed on her feet and reached out with one arm, but there was nothing nearby to stabilize her.
As I rushed over, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed into my arms.
I carefully lowered her to the ground. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
When she didn’t respond, I shouted for someone to call 911 as I unzipped her coat and performed CPR on her.
“Is she okay?” asked a man wearing dark-rimmed glasses, crouching beside me. “I’m a doctor.”
“Not sure.” I shifted, allowing him to take over. Even though I’d taken several first aid classes, a real emergency was completely different from practice. The adrenaline rush alone was no joke.
Once the doctor shifted into my place and began examining the old woman, I returned to Stori, who hugged the startled woman. As a journalist, she was used to these kinds of urgent situations.
The terrified woman pointed to the alley beside the building. “There’s a body over there.”
“Holy shit,” said a guy wearing a Patriots coat.
Curious, I walked over and saw the dead body.
My legs turned to jelly. I braced a hand on the brick wall, trying to compose myself.
A young woman lay in the middle of the dirty alley in a red dress, her skin blue.
She held a bouquet of red roses with both hands placed at the center of her bloody chest. Bile rose in my throat as my imagination conjured images of what could’ve happened to her.
Panic surged, and I inhaled a breath, trying to calm my nerves.
I stepped back and bumped into Stori. From the pallor of her face, I knew she’d seen it too.
“I’ve got to call the station,” she said.
After I gave my statement to the police, I sat in my car, attempting to calm down. Why did she have so much blood on her chest? The horrific memory from my childhood flashed before me. Panic rose again as I saw a bloody heart, lungs, liver, and other organs that a little girl shouldn’t see.
No, no, no. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my inhales and exhales.
A car honked, drawing me back to the moment.
I opened my eyes, seeing more police cars and news stations arriving.
Trying to steer my mind away from the dead body, I concentrated on the woman I’d helped.
The doctor said she probably had a stroke and alerted the EMTs.
What were the chances of two emergencies happening at once? I was glad I spotted her when I did. The doctor said she could’ve hit her head on the ground if I hadn’t caught her in time. Something like this could so easily happen to my grandfather . . .
I needed to schedule a spa day or something to take care of myself.
After another round of deep breathing and trying to focus on my surroundings, I felt stable enough to drive.
I headed out to buy groceries, stopped by the bank, and bought a new apron for my grandfather.
Though he already had a collection of them, a new one always made him happy.
All the running around kept my mind off the horrific image.
How could anyone unsee something like that? And why was she holding a bouquet?