fiction by
VICTOR JAMES KRAUCAK
James opens his eyes, grunts like a Neanderthal, and gingerly rises out of bed. It’s nearly eight o’clock in the morning, and he’d soon be late for work if he didn’t get moving. The blazing sunlight pierces through his bedroom blinds and into his throbbing head like golden daggers; another evening of binge drinking has taken its toll. Unsurprisingly, Emma, his wife, isn’t lying beside him. She had gotten up early to take their daughter, Lynnea, to school. His usual morning consisted of wake-up kisses and the smell of Folgers, but today, he’d have to settle for traces of her lavender perfume and a quiet home: a sobering reminder of last night’s blunder. Being late today wouldn’t have severe consequences for him, however. Kratz and Newman were well adjusted to James’s “problem.” After all, he was the lead civil litigator who raked in millions for their firm last year—if only Emma were as understanding as them, he rationed, his life would be much simpler.
It’s not that James doesn’t love her. He does. He’d die for her a million times and wouldn’t blink twice. She’s his sweetheart, his flaxen angel sent from the ether, and the mother of his beautiful princess. Emma had adored him in a similar light once not too long ago, but the bottle, that immovable monolith that stands between them, has slowly drowned her love for him over the years.
James finally gets ready for the day and, heading downstairs, notices something out of place: a stack of papers resting perfectly centered on the marble countertop with an eerily familiar letterhead. As he inches closer to it, the black type becomes more legible. It reads, “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.” Instantly, a lump in James’ throat rises to a choking halt as his legs shake uncontrollably, forcing his knees to buckle. Dressed in his Armani suit, he slumps over on his clean travertine floor as tears stream down his stubbled cheeks.
James gathers himself, stands up, and walks toward the refrigerator, where a pink Post-It catches his eye. The note reads, “Don’t forget Lynnea’s dance recital tonight at 6 p.m.”
After receiving such a crippling blow, that pink reminder pulls him out of his painful trance and delivers him to some sort of reality.
“I can’t miss her recital tonight,” James thinks to himself. “I must fight for them, save my marriage, and keep my family together.” The only way to accomplish that, he wagers, is to quit drinking.
He has no idea this newfound resoluteness would start a chain reaction that would alter the rest of his life. James pulls himself together, hops into his Ferrari, and flies to work. Zipping through traffic as a NASCAR driver bent on victory, he finally arrives at Malibu Law, intent on conquering his demons. Today, he would quit drinking, fix his marriage, and save his family. His following choices will dictate if this will be the first day of the rest of his life or the beginning of the end.
Navigating through the sea of interns and paralegals like a ghost, James reaches his desk, turns on his laptop, and searches for nearby Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. It remains to be seen whether James will emerge from this epiphany as a sober, better man, but he is determined to succeed, and his intentions are genuine.
Immediately, Kratz barges into James’ office and reclines on the red velvet chaise tucked neatly in the corner of the room.
“Well, look who decided to show up today!” Kratz exclaims jokingly.
Still slightly hungover and disgruntled by this intrusion, James responds, “Yes, well, last night was a doozy, and this morning put the cherry on top.”
With that frazzled hair and greying beard, Kratz smiles, crosses his legs, and condescendingly utters, “Guess you’re not going to meet us for a drink again tonight at Sydney’s Tavern, huh?”
“No, definitely not,” James replies. He wouldn’t dare tell Kratz about the impending doom of the divorce. James just wanted him to leave his office so he could focus on beginning his recovery and reclaiming his position as a father and husband.
He clears his throat, sits up, and declares, “Kratz, do you mind? I need to catch up on some case law for the Kenworth case.”
Kratz stands up, walks toward the door, and pauses momentarily, snarling at James, “That’s what our paralegals are for! Anyway, I guess I’ll see you at the board meeting tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, you’re making partner, James, I just wanted to be the first to tell you.”
As his boss shuffles away, James is left slightly stunned. He knows he would make partner one day; he and Emma have dreamed of having his last name on the wall for over two decades.
But today, the good news would have to wait; he had more important goals to attain that would require his full attention. With his workday coming to a close, James gathers his things, leaves the office, and drives to a nearby AA meeting. After arriving at the Calabasas AA club, he grabs a coffee and sits down. After 40 minutes of ardently listening to others share, it’s finally his turn.
“Hello, I’m James, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Welcome, James,” the group responds simultaneously.
“Hello everyone. This is my first AA meeting, and I need to make a change in my life. My wife filed for divorce today, my binge drinking has gotten out of control, and I’m not there for my family like I need to be.”
Soon, James finishes sharing, and the meeting comes to a close. He feels amazingly better after being around like-minded individuals and is ready to return home and show Emma the change that he is making. In his mind, he feels equipped to win her back…
As he drives home, he remembers something and instantly slams on his brakes.
“Oh no!” he shouts, “Lynnea’s dance recital!” James glances at the dash. 6:15 p.m. Thinking that he could race there and make it to catch the second half, he makes a U-turn and frantically speeds off. As he approaches an intersection, he takes a chance and accelerates as the light turns red.
Suddenly, a large semi-truck crosses the road 100 yards ahead of him! James slams the brakes on the Testarossa and slowly comes to a screeching halt, barely avoiding a fatal collision with the 18-wheeler.
That was too close, he thinks. Then, he gathers himself, takes a deep breath, and continues toward his destination.
Still driving, ever-nearing the school,
he feels an intense throbbing pain in both legs.
Maybe it’s from smashing too hard on the brake pedal, he thinks. Without further delay, he arrives at Malibu Elementary. While pulling into the parking lot, he hears a beeping sound.
Thinking it’s his cell phone, he pulls it out into his blazer, but there are no missed calls or text messages That was odd, he thinks. The school parking lot is jam-packed, so he parks in a handicapped spot and dashes into the main entrance. Sure, he is a bit late, but he made it, and now he’ll have the chance to support Lynnea, find Emma, and reconcile.
James runs toward the gymnasium, finds Emma, and sits beside her. Luckily, he makes it in time for the recital’s second half. His heart fills with anticipation and anxiety as he wonders what he’ll say to her. Then, after a brief pause of introspection, he finds the words.
“Emma, I’m so glad to see you. I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be. I’ve been foolish and selfish by choosing the bottle over my love for you and Lynnea. I promise that I’ll stop drinking. Today, I attended my first AA meeting after work instead of going to Sydney’s.” The words fly out of his mouth and he takes little pause for breath. “My dear Emma, my love, I promise I’ll change; I don’t know what I’d do without you and Lynnea. Please, my angel, won’t you forgive me?” The air between them fills with suspense, followed by a long, pregnant pause.
Emma steadfastly stares straight ahead with that cold, beautiful look of hers. Awaiting her response feels like an eternity that would never allow him a reprieve of solace. I guess she’s ignoring me, he thinks to himself. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything else… Emma never speaks a word to him at the recital that night. She just sits there, bedazzled like a Goddess in flames, ever fixed on her enigmatic thoughts.
Shortly after, Lynnea’s dance group takes the stage as a dozen nine-year-olds in pink tutus take their places. Tchaikovsky’s infamous Swan Lake is heard over the sound system as they twirl with elegance and poise. In unison, the audience claps with excitement as the little ballerinas pirouette and plié in perfect cadence with the music.
James is elated to see his little girl dance; watching her gives him a brief pardon from his terrible heartache. Any escape from Emma’s harrowing silence would do, but this is something entirely different.
In this gymnasium, he is wholly removed from his self-sabotaging thoughts and worries; for the first time today,
James is free of his torment.
As the recital ends, he notices the parents gather their coats and purses in preparation for a timely exit. James glances over to his left again, but Emma keeps looking straight ahead, like some Greco-Roman statue of Aphrodite. That pain in his legs creeps back again, but it’s far worse this time. Now, he feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing them with shards of glass, but James remains as stoic as the silent sculpture sitting beside him. After the curtains close and the applause concludes, the gym rustles with movement as Emma stands up out of her seat and walks past James. “I’ll see you at home, honey; you look gorgeous tonight, by the way,” he says to her affectionately.
To his distress, Emma continues past him without a murmur and leaves the auditorium in haste to retrieve Lynnea and take her home. He pauses momentarily, stands up, and slowly joins the buzzing sea of bodies.
As James drives home, the California breeze fills with a crisp, citrusy zest and the salty tinge of the nearby sea. Passersby blur past him like a Monet painting as they vanish in the twilight of his rearview. While bending with each twist of the beachside road, the Pacific sunset blazes blood orange over the distant, lapping waves. Once again, a welcoming peace bestills his aching soul as he unbinds himself from the day’s troubles.
He wonders if this is the same serenity the AA group had so fondly professed about earlier. While submersed in his moment of calm, his leg pain returns to violently jerk him out of his harmony. James immediately pulls onto the shoulder of the road and stops the car.
This time, the pain is so intense that he seethes with agony. James grabs both of his thighs and squeezes them in a vain attempt to alleviate the bane. Where is this coming from? Is it because I haven’t had a drink all day. He sighs, reclines his driver’s seat, and takes a deep breath.
“Ok, James, just relax,” he says aloud to himself. At that moment, he hears that ominous beeping sound again, but no service lights are lit on the dashboard. Again, he checks his cell phone. Again, nothing. With the last swath of sunshine waning, he recounts his joys and sorrows, but all he can think about is getting home to Emma and Lynnea. Then, James closes his eyes and slowly drifts into a deep sleep on the roadside, exhausted and alone.
***
All he can hear is that stupid beeping sound as he wakes up, dazed and perplexed. James opens his eyes and is shocked to find himself lying down in a hospital bed! An EKG monitor beeps as if to follow the cadence of some macabre orchestra. Well, that finally explains the annoying beeping sound, he thinks. How on Earth did I wind up here? While rationalizing the stark realization of his dilemma, he gazes off to his right and sees a little girl in a pink tutu standing beside him, holding his hand.
“Lynnea?” he softly utters.
The girl looks at him with those beautiful little eyes, pauses, and replies, “Daddy, you’re awake!”
“My sweetheart, you were amazing tonight at your dance recital. Daddy is so proud of you!” he says.
She softly and sorrowfully responds, “But Dad, you never made it to my recital.”
“What do you mean, princess?” he asks confusingly, “I made it just in time to watch you perform Swan Lake.”
Then, Emma walks into his hospital room and kneels beside Lynnea. With tears streaming down her face, she places her hand on his wrist.
“James, I’m so sorry about this morning. I don’t know what came over me; I was so mad at you for always leaving us to drink with the guys. We don’t want to lose you; we love you so much!”
James replies, “I love you both to the moon and back! My darling, you’ll never lose me; I promise you that. But what does Lynnea mean when she says I wasn’t at her recital? Emma, I was sitting right next to you.”
Suddenly, the leg pain returned, but this time, he knew why. He slowly looks down toward where his legs used to be, but they are both amputated above the knee. Immediately, James goes into shock and loses consciousness.
About an hour later, Dr. Nelson walks into the hospital room, where Emma and Lynnea are reclined in a guest bed adjacent to James’s. The good doctor walks over to the orange chair beside them and sits down.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry about what happened to your husband. He’s lucky that semi-truck didn’t kill him. James is going to have a long, arduous recovery. I had to amputate his legs, perform a gastric resection, and insert two spinal cages in his vertebral column. Most likely, he’ll be paralyzed from the waist down because his spinal cord has been severed at the L1–L2 junction. I know this must be difficult for you, so don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything.”
James, Emma, and Lynnea lie there, distraught and motionless, as Dr. Nelson exits the room and enters the hospital hallway.
James had never made it to the recital that evening.
He had raced past that stop sign and collided with the 18-wheeler at 128 miles per hour. Perhaps he had imagined everything
after the accident, or maybe, he was there in spirit.
Over the years, as James lives out the rest of his life, he often sits in his wheelchair and ponders what occurred that night—his experience at the gymnasium felt so utterly visceral that many of his days were plagued by a paradox that contrasted his sense of reality with the supernatural.
Nonetheless, everyday he tries to be the best possible version of himself, despite lacking the use of his legs. Fortunately, James to continues working and the firm even installs a handicapped ramp at the office.
Yet, his disability doesn’t prevent James from being a wonderful father and husband. On the contrary, he spends every waking moment with his family as they grow increasingly accepting of him and fond of his love. Some days, he wishes the accident had never happened; others, he’s thankful it did.
In the end, his accident and ensuing paranormal encounter turned tragedy into an epiphany. Now, he is thankful, joyous, and sober rather than conceited, humdrum, and drunk. He is grateful he didn’t take another drink after that day, grateful to be alive with Emma and Lynnea by his side, and grateful for the chance to start anew.