Breathless -Lurlene McDaniel

Travis

Travis

“You could have drowned.” Mom tells me that one too many times.

“But I didn’t.” After three days trapped in this hospital bed with nothing but medical tests and daytime TV game shows and soap operas for the entertainment, drowning doesn’t sound all that bad. “When will they finish with me? I don’t want to spend all summer in the hospital.

Mom crosses her arms. “Not until Dr. Madison figures it out.”

“They’ve taken a gallon of blood. What’s with that? Just tell him to set my leg and send me home.”

“He has the medical degree, not you,” Mom says.

I’ve had accidents before—stitches, a concussion, a broken arm once when I was five—and I was never checked into the hospital. “That doesn’t mean the guy knows what he’s doing.”

Mom’s mouth makes a straight line that tells me to back off. I grumble, “If I’m stick here, I need some decent food. I’m starving.”

“I get you double helpings.” She leans down, kisses my cheek. “I’ve got to go in duty. Your dad and Emily will be her shortly.”

“Can they bring some ice cream?”

She doesn’t answer. I pick up the TV remote and surf for old Star Trek episodes. Beam me up, Scotty.

Once we’re alone in my room that afternoon, Emily chews me out about my dive. Her hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, her face is sunburned. “It was totally stupid!” She looks about twelve, with an angry grown-up expression, but I let her vent.

“Hey… it’s a broken leg. It’ll heal.”

“And you’ll jump again.”

“Probably.”

“That’s not funny.”

I take her hand. “Look, sis, we are who we are. You’re a thinker, and you figure all the angles before you do something. Not me. I like the adrenaline high, and that’s never going to change.”

She grumbles, “I would have figured out I’d get hurt if I jumped from the top of Chimney Rock.”

“It never crossed my mind,” I tell her honestly.

“It should have. You’re nor Superman.”

“You’ve never flown. You don’t know how it feels.” I yawn. I’m getting sleepy because of the drugs they’re giving me.

“Should I leave?” She asks. Her anger’s gone and she looks worried.

“Your call. Can’t be much fun to hear me snore.”

“I’ll wait.” She settles in a nearby chair and doesn’t let go of my hand.

It’s late at night when Cooper comes to my room. “Hey, man.”

I’m awake but groggy. “Don’t let the nurses catch you. It’s after visiting hours.”

He taps his closed fist against mine. “I didn’t want to run into the paparazzi.”

I grunt. “Dad’s running interference. Just a few reporters checking in so far.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the news. Big story, along with Mrs. Ford’s dog tearing up the flower beds at City Hall.”

I grin. Alexander’s a small place, and because so many alumni are still around, high school athletics has a big following. Football is king, but my honors in diving have given me supporters. “Not the way I want to be remembered,” I say. “For a failed dive.”