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The Gift

Stephanie's Storyline, Chapter 8.1

copyright comidacomida 2018

I suppose it's almost ironic in a way what I used to think when I heard a quote by Pablo Picaso. He said "I don't believe in accidents. There are only encounters in history. There are no accidents."

The thought that someone believed so completely in fate, or a grand design of some kind that he refused to think that things sometimes 'just happened' was a foreign notion to me. I remember telling one of my friends in art history class "I guess good ol' Pablo never got into a car accident then."

Strangely enough, it was a car accident that made me realize that there might have been some truth to what I'd originally considered the idle jabbering of a silly painter. I was in my mom's mini van, parked in the parking lot of the sheriff's station when a pick up truck jumped the curb, sailed over the sidewalk, and slammed right into the van's passenger side door. I'd just started the van, but I didn't even have time to put my seatbelt on when it happened... and it happened in the blink of an eye.

The exact moment of impact was a flash of activity; I hadn't even noticed the danger until it was already too late for me to reach... but Tom acted for me. Reaching through my body, the Rhino yanked the driver's side door open and , with his other huge hand, gave me the strongest shove I had ever felt, accompanied by a shout of "Medved! Catch her!"

The sound of rending metal and shattering glass drowned everything else out as I was thrown out of the mini van and straight onto the asphalt... or, I would have, except for Medved, who appeared from the totem in my pocket already wrapped around me. The impact felt no more severe than flopping onto my bed after a long day out.

My Bear had wrapped his entire body around me, cushioning me from striking the ground, and we ended up rolling to a stop. Only once it had passed did Medved release me. Looking up from my place on the ground, I saw that my mom's mini van was definitely totaled-- the pick up had taken to the air and hit it at an angle when it came down; the two vehicles looked as though they were practically fused together. Fortunately, not being physical in nature, none of my Spirit companions were hurt.

By the time I got my wits about me to do anything other than stare in disbelief, several of the people inside the sheriff's office had come out and a number of pedestrians came by to make sure everyone was okay. Someone dialed 911 to get an ambulance for the driver of the pick up and one of the deputies from the sheriff's office got on the phone to contact the police department. Through it all, my Spirits stayed by my side and provided me a lot more support than the random people who'd come to inspect the accident.

One of the best things about living in a small town is also one of the worst: everyone seems to know everyone. By the time I was coherent enough to check on the driver of the pick up I came to realize that he hadn't fared as well as I did. The driver was Mr. Hodges, a man I didn't know very well, but whose family had been town residents since the 1800s. He was probably in his late 70s, and by the way he was lodged between the steering wheel and the driver's seat with his mouth partly open and his glassy eyes staring straight ahead it was obvious he wasn't going to see another birthday. God, I wish I hadn't looked.

I stayed at the site of the accident because the police needed to take a statement, because the EMTs wanted to at least give me a cursory examination, and because I think I was still in shock. Still, the main reason I stayed there was an obvious one: the mini van was destroyed. Even as all of the chaos slowly started to fade and the coroner showed up to collect Mr. Hodges and his effects, I was still stuck trying to figure out what to do. Anapa, apparently, had an idea, and mentioned it to Kyle.

The Raven didn't take it well, starting off in English first before switching over to Coptic. "What? No!"

Everyone was focused on Mr. Hodges' body being loaded up so it gave me a chance to question him. "What?"

Kyle sighed, shaking his head. "Anapa thinks we should go with the coroner. He wants more knowledge about how the town handles its dead... as if knowing will help with--"

Tom would hear none of it. "No. Stephanie must contact her mother and father. They will be able to call the insurance company to settle the issue with the van, and they have another vehicle so she can return home. My Nekh'dah will need to rest after this."

Medved, who had kept a paw on my shoulder, or around my waist, or holding my hand the entire time shook his head. "No. She can call them from the hospital. Lapushka... although we were here to protect you, it would be safest to see a doctor... just to be sure."

Kyle scoffed. "Morgue? Home? Hospital? Are you all crazy? We don't have a lot of time to figure out what happened with Billy, and you KNOW her folks will flip if they find out about the car accident--"

The Rhino made to interrupt "You cannot think--"

The Raven talked over him. "-- right away. She call them, and let them know she's not hurt--"

It was Medved who interrupted next. "We do not know she--"

Kyle kept right on talking. "--because she's NOT! You two are frickin' GREAT Guardians, and she's not hurt... she's FINE... but being TOO careful means we lose our chance to get done what we need to!"

I glanced around at all of the Spirits before looking back to Kyle. "So we should be reckless about it instead?"

He sighed. "Stef... you said it yourself: you don't have enough time to do everything you need to do before we go back to Cherry City. If you feel fine now, then that's all there is to it. Maybe you'll be sore tomorrow, or maybe you won't, but if you're not hurting or bleeding or anything then maybe you should put faith in your Guardians-- that they did their job... and we keep on going."

It was a good argument, but there was one major problem. "How exactly do I do that without a car?"

"Hemet-netjer... look."

Anapa, who had been silent since Kyle shot down his idea was pointing. My eyes followed his finger to the crumpled wreckage of Mr. Hodges' truck where one of the paramedics had reached into it with what looked like a feather. He had dark skin with an almost boyishly-round face and thin physique. I also saw that his long black hair was tied back with a piece of beaded rawhide. Focusing entirely on the man, I was at a loss in figuring out what he was doing.

It was Anapa again who provided insight. Kyle provided the translation. "He is doing some kind of ritual of cleansing..."

Whatever it was the man was doing, one of the policemen on the scene shooed him away, telling him off with more than a casual dismissal, gesturing back to the ambulance. The man did as he was told, returning to it and the other paramedic, who just rolled his eyes, and began to berate the man with the feather in a good-natured manner. I felt the soft touch of Anapa's paw on my shoulder and, rather than hearing his words, I could feel his meaning. "If that man cares for the sick and dying, he may know something."

They weren't words, per se, and that wasn't exactly what I felt, but it's the best way I could put what they conveyed to me into words... and he was right. Or, I also reasoned, it could just as easily be coincidence-- there were plenty of Native Americans in the area, and just because a paramedic came from a spiritual background didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. I had a lot on my mind, so why complicate things?

Kyle spoke up again. "Ashton lives just a few blocks from here... I bet his mom could come pick you up AND let your folks know you're okay..."

Tom frowned. "It is not the same. She should be with her parents-- they will want to see her to know for certain."

Medved placed one paw defiantly on his hip. "She can call them on the way to the hospital and they can meet us there."

Anapa said nothing; he merely continued to switch his gaze between me and the paramedics, who were closing up their ambulance and getting ready to hit the road. As usual, it was up to me, so I--