The Mud on Their Shoes - Part One

Having scanner issues, but I promise the picture I mentioned yesterday is coming soon...

In the meantime, here's the next story:

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The Mud on Their Shoes – The Story of Magdalene Crain

A side story from the novel 'Sanctuary' - Book One of the Gilesian Trilogy

The back doors of the ambulance closed, and the compartment shook as they rode, sirens blaring.

Maggie insisted on riding in the ambulance with Dwight on the way over to the hospital, but then she came to herself a little. She saw Dwight’s face again, unconscious, almost unrecognizable under blood and bones and steaming raw meat tissue.

“Are you all right, miss? You don’t look well.”

She looked up at the paramedic, who also sat in the back monitoring Dwight’s vital signs. His round brown eyes seemed to understand something she couldn’t actually say. She didn’t want to move, or look away, or else –

He handed her an empty vomit bag only moments before she filled it. No control. A sweet smell of rot stayed in her nose and made her gag again.

“I’m sorry…”

“Try putting your head between your legs.”

She dropped her head without another word, soft falls of red hair hanging down either side of her face, and she stayed there the rest of the trip. She thanked God for his comforting hand on her back and shoulder. The kindness of strangers. Every time she tried to sit up, she felt like bringing her head back down, like something needed to be covered, but she wasn’t sure what.

Soon they stopped, the doors swung open, and medical staff gathered around the gurney as they pulled Dwight out, and she stumbled from the back and followed in after them, a light rain pelting her bare arms and hair.

She didn’t want to go any further, but now she was committed. Couldn’t go back. Her heart hardened into a little rock, with no love left in it for Dwight, but she couldn’t let anyone else see that. She followed behind, a worried, concerned expression on her face.

“Wait over there, please.”

The brown-eyed paramedic held her by her arms and insisted she go no further, and pointed to a side room with a little smile. She agreed with a small smile back.

In the operating room they would say, “He’s got the best girlfriend. He’s so lucky to have her.” The brown-eyed paramedic would say in his heart, “I wish she were mine – such a lucky guy.”

 

She rolled heel over toe, heel over toe in her dirty spike heels, one painful, unsteady step at a time into the waiting room with buzzing fluorescent lights, one half-filled snack machine next to a kitchenette, and ivory curtains in the windows. Many empty brown vinyl couches and chairs sat ready to receive her – the only person there.

She covered her mouth with her hand. Where am I? Am I stoned?

No, stoned feels better than this. Nightmares feel better than this. What did I do wrong?

Makes no sense.

I’m beautiful.  I’m a senior. I work in the office; I have connections. And yet, this little girl, this whatzup-slut junior, comes into the picture, and it’s like he can’t even see me anymore. He’s so cold. Playing his sick little mind-games with me. I’m gonna break up with him. We’re totally breaking up.

She opened her vanity purse and pulled out a mirror.

“There you are.” She checked her eyes, and added a little cover-up. Late night. No school tomorrow – she’d sleep in as soon as she got home.

“Excuse me…did you come in with the young man just now?”

She looked up and raised her hand, her chunky red plastic bracelet with D-W-I-G-H-T on it settling down her arm.

A nurse with kinky-curly brown hair and squinty eyes in blue scrubs came forward and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Bennie. Nurse on duty in the intensive-care unit tonight. You came in with Dwight Paulson?”

“I know him.” Of course I know him, she thought. “I’m his girlfriend.”

Bennie grimaced a little, her eyes worried. “I need to be frank with you. All indications do not look good at the moment. You’ll need to prepare yourself for what may happen.”

Bennie wrote on a chart in her hands, and the movement captured Maggie’s attention. “What’s that you’re writing? Is that about me?”

“Just some notes on Dwight’s chart.”

“What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

Bennie pulled the chart forward for her view. “It’s not pretty. He’s had a fracture to his skill, and his brain is swelling.”

Maggie couldn’t read any of the scratching in the diagnosis section. “Is he awake?”

“No, ma’am. He’s in intensive care – not ready for visitors yet.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Dwight’s parents enter the waiting room. She knew them from the principal’s office where she volunteered as an aide. They showed up a lot to talk to Principal Caller.

She turned on Bennie in a moment, pretending she didn’t see them. “What do you mean we can’t see him? I’m his girlfriend. I should be able to go see him. I was the one who called the hospital. I rode over with him from the park...”

It worked. They came over as fast as they could, and the father spoke to Bennie, tapping on her shoulder to get her attention. “Excuse me. Our son is Dwight Paulson – “

Bennie faced them immediately, her back to Maggie. “Yes, of course. If you’ll come back out to the front desk, I’ve got some paperwork I need you to fill out for him.”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“I was there.”

Everyone turned back to Maggie.

Dwight’s father stared. “Who are you?”

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Part Two of three parts coming tomorrow...