Phoenix Chapter One: The Accident

PHOENIX

Chapter One: The Accident

His pay in his pocket, John Rogan was minutes away from finally purchasing his dream guitar. The black and silver Fender glinted in the window of Jewel Music, just across Walnut Street, in downtown Shermer. Waiting for the crosswalk sign, he idly glanced over the crowd on the opposite side of the street. Black bushy hair, pale skin and dark eyes. It was Allison Reynolds.  The light turned green, he pushed off from the curb, and then it happened, in slow motion. He raised his hand to wave. She stepped into the street. A car bore down on her. It clipped her and she was airborne, flying in an arc. Then she smashed to the ground. The car came to a halt and time sped up again. In three bounds, Rogan was at her side. He pushed back his long dark hair. Allison was lying on her side, trying to sit up. Rogan knelt next to her in his black jeans. 

"Don't get up. Just lie still."

She looked up at him, into his hazel eyes. Her plain black clothes were rumpled, her hair messy as usual. Rogan winced. Her forehead was marred by scraped skin, dirt and blood. 

“Hey, no, you stay down," he said as she tried to rise. He was aware of the crowd collecting. "Just lie still, until the ambulance comes." 

"I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine."  She sounded sleepy, like someone woken from an unintentional nap. 

"C'mon, do me the favor, OK? Just stay still until the medics come." Folding his black motorcycle jacket, he slipped it under her head as she subsided. 

"Thank you, Rogan." She touched his lean, well-muscled arm. “I'm not feeling so good.”

“The medics are on the way... Listen, hear the sirens? Just hang on.” He let her curl her fingers around his wrist.  

Then the medics were there, replacing him at her side. When they lifted her onto the gurney and began wheeling her, he followed quickly. Someone handed him his jacket and the medic was asking her, “Can you say your name?” 

There was a bustle as her gurney was loaded into the ambulance. One medic climbed in beside her and the other turned to him. “You know her?”

Rogan nodded.

“Sit up front, with me.”

The siren sounded funny from inside the vehicle and they drove very fast. The hospital was only five blocks away and sooner than seemed possible, they arrived. Beckoning him, the driver pointed him to the ER entrance. The other medic jogged along after Allison's gurney, which was disappearing inside. 

Following the big signs indicating the emergency room, he entered through large automatic doors and approached the desk labeled “Check in.” There were three people ahead of him, but finally it was his turn.

“Allison Reynolds, they just brought her in. Can I see her?” 

The woman at the desk looked at her computer monitor and said, “John Rogan? Miss Reynolds has asked for you, but she is being examined and can't have visitors. You can sit in the waiting room. I'll have the security guard bring you back when you can join her.”

Rows of flimsy plastic chairs lined the walls of the windowless waiting room. Rogan took a seat near the door. He scanned the room for any comfort and found none. There was nothing to distract him, not even tables with stale magazines, just this bare, depressing room. Everyone seemed sunk in their own pain or worry. One couple murmured quietly, the woman wearing a surgical mask and coughing harshly. A man in paint-spattered work clothes held his wrist in his lap, his face down, preoccupied with his own pain. Others seemed to be waiting, as Rogan was, for word about a loved one. The large white clock on the wall seemed to tick more slowly than seemed right.    

His motorcycle jacket had flecks of blood and dirt on it and he was brushing at them an hour later when the security guard called his name. 

“You can sit with her now. She's back this way.” He led Rogan through another automatic door, stout and wooden, labeled “Authorized Persons Only.” They navigated a maze of examination rooms until the guard showed him into room 706.

Allison looked small, propped up in the white bed, with a bandage on her left temple. 

“How’re you feeling, Allison?”

“Tired. And my head hurts. He said I have to wait, I can't go home yet. They need to do a C-T scan to see if there is any bleeding in my brain.”

Rogan pulled a chair up next to her bed.

“You want them to call your parents?” he asked.

Allison gave a little laugh that turned into a cough.

“They're in Canada, camping. They wouldn't care anyway.”

“A boyfriend? You still with Andy?”

 “He's out of town, too, for a wrestling meet. You're the closest thing I have to family right now.” She reached for his hand. “Can you stay with me?”

“I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. So, what brought you downtown, Al?"  

“Art supplies. From the Artist’s Guild.”

Rogan remembered her watercolors and sketches. He’d been impressed with the way she captured her subjects with such tender accuracy. 

“How about you?” she asked.

“On my way to buy a guitar.” 

“A new one? My accident interrupted some serious business.”

“Nah, it will still be there when I go back.” He was surprised she got the importance of such a purchase. But she understood artists, and he was an artist in his own way.

Rogan was about to ask her further questions about her current art project, when she put her hand to her temple and closed her eyes.

“Just lie still. You don't have to talk.” 

 He returned the slight squeeze of her hand and watched as she closed her eyes.

***

It took almost three hours to complete the C-T scan. A young woman, a volunteer, entered pushing a wheelchair.

“I don't need that,” Allison protested.

“I know, honey, but it's regulations.” The woman wheeled Allison out of the exam room. Rogan trailed behind, feeling superfluous. They ended up at a small booth where a tired looking man had reams of papers for Allison to sign. Finally the volunteer pushed Allison up to the front entrance of the hospital. A security guard called them a cab on the house phone.

“They say I need someone to stay with me tonight. Wake me up a couple of times, make sure I don't get worse. Can you do that?” she asked.

“Sure, Allison. No problem.”

He waited in the living room while she changed into pajamas. Wandering over to the mantle, he looked at the framed pictures. They showed Allison's parents at different locations, formal pictures and informal snap shots, at the beach, in ski gear, beside a tent in the woods. There was not a single picture of Allison. 

Allison gestured him into her bedroom, looking tired and drawn with pain. Some detached part of him noticed the curves her snug t-shirt revealed and he felt like a complete a*****e. Doubly so, as she was still dating Andy. Focus, he told himself. She's hurt and needs to get in bed. He was relieved when she pulled the covers up to her chin. Settling into the armchair by the window, he prepared for a long night. 

As instructed, he woke her at midnight and again at four. Both times she was coherent. At eight, he woke to find cold morning light creeping in around the edges of the curtains. 

“Allison,” he said, touching her shoulder. “Allison, wake up for a second.” 

She dreamily opened her eyes and looked into his. “Thank you, Rogan. I'm not dead yet.” She gave him a sleepy smile and he had an insane desire to touch her face, kiss her neck, hear her sigh. He couldn’t believe he was having sexy thoughts about a sick woman. He pulled up the covers that had slipped down. 

“You can go back to sleep.” Her eyes closed and he left her side before he could act on his crazy impulses to kiss and stroke her warm skin. She was Andy's girl, off limits; he couldn't be having these thoughts about her. 

Rogan settled back in the arm chair and deliberately pushed his mind in another direction. It was almost exactly a year ago when Rogan last saw Allison. They had a great day on Lake Michigan: Allison with her boyfriend Andy, and Rogan with his girlfriend Claire. He had a watercolor picture by Allison, of them all standing on a pier at sunset. Claire had left two days later. Allison and Andy were a year younger. They must still be in school, senior year. That day seemed like a long time ago.   

 Claire... that had been good while it lasted. She was on the east coast now, going to school at that fancy place her mother went to, Bryn Mawr. Anyway, she was gone, their idyllic summer over. Because that was all they had: one summer. They both graduated and they'd always known she'd be leaving in August. 

And he'd been good, no other girls, just Claire. She was his first serious girlfriend, after a life of one night stands. And now, now he must keep his hands to himself. Not only did he not want to be trapped in one of Andy's wrestling holds, he respected him. Since Allison and Claire were such good friends, the four of them had spent a lot of time together over the summer. He found Andy a likable guy, not averse to a little talk about cars. That was about all they had in common, but that was okay. 

At noon, he startled at Allison's touch on his arm. He was hunched and stiff from sleeping in the chair.

“Rogan, do you want to get in bed? You look uncomfortable.” 

“What? No, I'm awake. You feel better?”

“Yes. I've had some juice and toast, and my headache is better. You can go now, if you want. I'm ok,” she told him.

“They said twenty four hours. I'd better stay.”

“Andy's on his way over. I'll be fine, unless you want to crash here for a while. You look tired.”

The idea of being surrounded by her scent in her bed was too much. He got up. 

“No, I'll head on out, if Andy is here to take care of you.” 

She hugged him goodbye. He left before he could have any fresh ideas about touching what wasn't his.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. I return all reviews, except poetry. All comments are welcome, large or small, critical or positive.

I revised this entire story into past tense. If you see any tense problems, please let me know.

Reviews

[MoonlitWillow]

An interesting first chapter. Rogan seems like anyone, really. I think most people try to do right most of the time, even if that isn't their initial inclination, and that's what Rogan seems like to me. You have your own writing style, and it differs from mine, so I can't say you should change this or that, because I think it would just be me looking for what's normal to ME.

One thing I think would help the flow a little would be to divide your first paragraph in two. There's a clear subject change that goes from his desire for the guitar, to the recognition of Allison and the resulting accident, and it would make more sense for it to be two separate paragraphs.

Other than that, a good start. I'm interested enough to read more.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for the review! I have a master document and I will note your observation about the first paragraph to contemplate at my leisure. You've been really helpful and I appreciate it.

[Wathanya.5KY3]

It wasn't until the volunteer brings Allison her wheelchair before I noticed that the chapter was written in present tense! I remember when someone told me to just stick to the past tense, but I think there are so many things the present tense offers that the past tense does not.

It's unfortunate that I, unlike other reviewers, cannot fully relate to how Regan feels because I'm an anarchical polyamorist and we don't have that "off limits" mindset. That doesn't mean you should change your writing in any way though.

I originally wrote this as a review return, but I don't think my writing skills are at that level where I can criticize such a beautiful and mesmerizing piece of writing.

I'll tell you what I thought about your description of Rogan's physical appearance though. Apart from the fact that he is tall and has long hair, I don't think there's anything else that tells me about his appearance. If this is all you wanted to reveal in this chapter, you're doing it right and not clumsily at all.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you didn't get put off by the whole monogamy thing.read moreThank you for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you didn't get put off by the whole monogamy thing.

Yeah, present tense third person isn't common, but my favorite book, "Pattern Recognition" by William Gibson, is also written in present tense third person. It has definite advantages.

I appreciate your perspective on the physical description. I'm still waffling about that, how much to put in, and how to insert it without looking like I just inserted it.

Reading your work, I think you have things to teach me, even if you don't feel like it. I get a lot out of reading others' writing, yours included.

[Wathanya.5KY3]

A writer I admire, Franklin Veuax, once said in a Quora answer that the first chapter should not be an information dump, and that revealing facts about your characters should be done only when it pushes the story forward in some way (however slightly).

Thank you for your kind words. There's a Chinese
proverb "three friends: three teachers, three students" which roughly means "there's always something you can teach others and there's always something you can learn from others." Let's continue to improve our writing as we go.

[Samuel Dickens]

I love a good romantic tale, and this one is shaping up nicely. Describing Rogan's appearance--My advice is to decide what features are most important, then release a bit at a time... brushing back his dark hair, Rogan said,... or Allison notices his dimples and smiles inside...
In my opinion, Allison is a bit too lucid immediately after getting hit by the vehicle. Perhaps she just gets bumped hard enough to throw her to the ground? If you want to stay with her getting air born, you might save the lucid conversation until later, after the birds quit flitting around her head. These are just my thoughts, offered for your consideration.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reading my story. I revised, keeping your comments in mind. I squeezed in the physical description I thought most important: being tall, having long, light brown hair and hazel eyes. You're right about how lucid she would be. I was basing it on my own experience of being hit by a car, but that was basically a little bump, and in the story, I need her to have a pretty bad knock on the head. So I shifted their more lucid conversation into a later part. I appreciate your very helpful, constructive comments. I value your thoughts.

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm most pleased to have helped.

[Shep]

I think you did a nice job on the description Rogan and good character dialogue as well the chapter to me I did not find it clumsy but that's my opinion. However, I loved I just wished had more of opening what I was getting into the Prologue. other than it was a great read.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you didn't find it clumsy. I had to work at it, and then shoehorn it in, which is not my usual style of creating. So it felt very clumsy to write it.

[CJ Barnard]

Wow. This sounds like so many situations many of us have been in. Crushing on a friends guy or girl and not being able to do anything aound out out of loyalty and respect to said friend.
I have been in the exact same situation and now 11 years later found out that said friend had been crushing on me too! But wouldnt make a move out of loyalty to his then girlfriend!

[SweetNutmeg]

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Yeah, life is so tangled sometimes. We make the best choices we know at the time, and hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.