Chapter Six
Simon
Five weeks. I’ve gone through just over one month of therapy, both physical and mental. The hardest part is the day of the accident. Things all seem to be muddled when it comes to that day. Flashes of memories come to mind, but they don’t make any sense. I have no idea what happened.
There’s a knock on my door, and my brother ducks his head inside. “Can I come inside?” Eric asks.
“Sure,” I answer with a nod as I adjust my shirt, pulling it down my chest. I’m about to get to work for the first time in so long.
“Jack’s here too.” They both come inside, closing the door behind their dumb asses. My younger brothers are great guys and I don’t know what I’d do without them, but they love to work my nerves.
“So, what’s up?” I can tell this isn’t just a brotherly checkup. Something is on their mind.
“We came to see how you’re doing. How is the PT?”
I scoff because they’re around often enough to see me improving, and I’m betting it’s not my physical therapy they’re here to talk about.
“I’m down to two days a week, and I’m going back to the shop today.
” I’ve got so many classes to make up. With graduation around the corner, the school has allowed me to handle everything at home with online monitoring, and my teachers will make visits to test me as well.
It’s not as if I wasn’t the number one student while attending the program, anyway.
“That’s good. So…um…we wanted to talk to you about Viv,” Jack sputters out. My shoulders tense, and the tightness in my chest expands.
My dad knocks on the door rapidly before coming in and interrupting our conversation, stopping my brothers from telling me about my future wife.
“Come on, Simon, it’s time to go,” my pops calls out.
“I’m coming,” I mutter as he enters my room.
“Boys, you don’t have to hover around your brother.
He’s doing a lot better, and he needs to get some work done so he can submit it to his teachers.
” That’s the only good thing that came out of this.
I have two classes in my final semester: one automotive class that is focusing on motorcycles, which I saved until last, and a final math class.
The math one I can take online, and the motorcycle one is mostly online with submitting some of my work from the shop.
My father set up a tripod for me to record my workstation.
I had a late start to the semester, but they were able to let me slide because my grades are impeccable.
I nod to my brothers and walk gingerly behind my father.
My injuries were to my left side. I had a cracked skull and a slice on my face as well as a broken arm and fractures from below my knee to my ankle.
The scary part has been the brain bleed and swelling.
It led to the two-week coma and then the memory loss.
Unfortunately, I still don’t have a clue who ran me over, and what’s worse is that they don’t believe it was an accident, from signs of acceleration.
I head downstairs carefully. Most of my injuries have healed, but it’s just in case I get dizzy. I promised them that I’m nearly a hundred percent, but they aren’t having it. My body aches, but it’s to be expected.
“Before you head out, it’s time for breakfast, Simon,” my mother says. She sets a plate on the table in front of me. “Did you take your medication?” she asks as she lightly brushes her hand through my hair.
“Yes, Mom. I did take it. Thank you for the breakfast. It smells and looks amazing.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” She smiles, but it’s not reaching her eyes.
Something is bothering her, and it probably has to do with morning sickness.
My parents are adding to the family, which came as a big surprise, so Dad’s extra protective, especially after what happened to me. My mother was a wreck.
My dad wraps his arms around her waist from behind, snuggling her close. “Are you taking it easy, Dash?” he whispers in her ear.
“I’m fine, love. I promise that I’m taking it very easy.”
“Sit, and I’ll serve you some food before we get to work.”
“So, Pops, are the cameras set up?”
“Yes, your station is all ready for your instructor to check in, but it will be at your request so he can’t just have access when he wants. Also, he’ll be stopping by from time to time as well.”
“That’s great. I’m not worried about any of that. I can’t wait to get back into a steady rhythm with my hands again.”
“You’ll be back to normal soon.” I nod and dig into my food.
A part of me believes it. The only thing that hinders that belief is the lack of memories from that weekend.
Since I’ve been back, I haven’t seen Vivian.
She never came back to the hospital or stopped by to check on me.
Whatever happened, I did something to upset her, and it must have finally been enough to push her away for good.
The thought of losing her forever burns a hole through my chest, marking my soul.
“You will,” my father insists. “Even if the memories of that weekend don’t come back.”
“What if I never know who ran me over?”
“We’re working on it. Trust me when I say we have our people looking into it. You won’t have to know, and they will pay.” His teeth clench so tightly with those words said with such finality that I’m certain it will end in death or maybe maiming for that person.
We chow down while my dad quizzes me between bites. I must have been starving because I practically lick my plate clean. Standing up, I place it in the sink. “I’m ready, Pops.”
He does the same with his plate and then comes back and leans down to kiss my mother. “Take it easy, beautiful.”
He drives me to the shop, even though it’s within walking distance, because I need to reserve my strength. “Now let’s see the setup.”
My normal workstation has three different cameras—one above and behind my station, and two that are moveable based on the location of the vehicle I’m working on. The excitement builds in me instantly.
“So what do we have on the block for today?”
“We have to work on three bikes, four oil changes, six tire rotations. Mrs. Colson’s car isn’t starting, so we have to bring it in and run a diagnostic and see what’s going on. Do you want to pick your project?”
“How about I start with the diagnostic and get my feet wet again?”
“Sounds good.” He nods. Throughout the day, everyone stops by my station to say hello and check on me.
They all offer to help, but I send them on their way.
It takes a while, but I figure out what’s causing Mrs. Colson’s vehicle to stop running.
She was out of gas was step damn one. She has a hole in her tank by the fuel filter.
She reported that she had gotten gas two days go, and it was empty.
Although, according to my tools, her entire panel was lit up like a damn Christmas tree.
There are several things wrong with her vehicle.
Who knows when she’s had an oil change, all her tires are threadbare, and her engine is missing coolant.
In this temperature, it’s no wonder her vehicle hasn’t exploded already.
“Pops, where the hell is her son?” I ask.
“He disappeared with the last of the inheritance she received from her husband’s will.”
“That bastard.”
“Tell me about it. We’re doing this on the house.”
I nod. Mrs. Colson used to be a schoolteacher before retiring a few years ago when her husband died. Now, she’s left with nothing because of her asshole son.