Faith-Short Story
“Shit Phil, JUST FUCKING ASK!” Jane barks.
A silence erupts, with Sally’s heart monitor providing the only soundtrack. Jane buries her face in her hands, tears streaming and Phil turns to the window. His phone chimes with a text from Sally’s Coach:
“Hey, good morning Phil, We just got news of the accident. We are going to swing by soon as we get back this evening. Diana and I are keeping her and you guys in prayer.
Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. By faith we understand the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible.- Hebrews 11:1
See you soon,
Love & Grace”
He clicks back to his home screen. It’s a picture of him, Sally, and Jane smiling after her last meet, Sally beaming, holding up her 1st place ribbon. Phil sighs, standing with a thousand-yard stare, with all the practices, the late nights, early mornings, even his marriage, all centered on his daughter’s pursuit. All of it flooding him and his muffled sobs now rival Jane’s.
A “Good to see you both,” cuts through the air as Dr. Williams pushes the door open, beads of sweat dotting his brow. He pushes his glasses above his nose and slowly rubs his temples. Sally’s gym bag buzzes from an ever growing steady stream of notifications, texts, and missed calls.
Dr. Williams, Phil, and Jane all shuffle closer to Sally’s bed. “It’s going to be a long road of recovery.” Dr. Williams says, “The fact we could save it at all is a miracle.”
Her head was wrapped several times in a thick bandage, her shoulder in a sling and her leg a flush, purplish hue, mangled and gnarled like the roots of an oak.
“The other two drivers were treated and arrested. The cops said these same guys got cited for racing as well. It’s gotten worse all over the city the past few years.” says Dr. Williams, as he shakes his head.
Jane dabs her eyes and slowly turns to Phil. He knows it’s time to ask.
“Do you think she’ll be able to swim…” Phil asks.
Dr. Williams notices their ashen faces and strokes his beard and considers his words. “It’s too early to be definitive…we are far from being out of the woods…I’m sorry, It’ll be very difficult for her to even put pressure on her leg…”
“You don’t know that,” Jane shot back, as Dr. Williams and Phil turned to her, tears drying as if Dr. Williams’ words observation snapped her back to reality.
“Like I said it’s early Jane…but her leg has been unresponsive to everything so far…I’m not sure if she can even move it.”
“She’ll be back” Jane shoots back.
Dr. Williams sighs and nods, not agreeably, but in a conceding-the-conversation way.
“I’ll leave you guys. Let her rest. I’ll check back in a little while.”
Dr. Williams shakes Phil’s hand and walks out the room.
The summer had been grueling. The Olympic push put a strain on everyone and it often felt like Jane and Phil were hanging on by a thread, financially and emotionally. Swimming had become both their glue and the fissure in their family.
If Phil was the good cop, Jane was the sheriff. She drove Sally as hard as possible and in some ways was living through her, her own Olympic dreams halted years ago by the birth of her only child.
…
An 8:15 alarm goes off, the only noise disrupting Jane’s nap. She clicks the alarm’s SNOOZE button and resumes her nap. Phil continues to hover over Sally. She hasn’t blinked or moved at all.
Another message from Coach chimes in:
“Hey Phil, we just parked, what room is she in?”
“1560” Phil types back.
Phil leans down and plants a peck on Sally’s cheek and mouths a silent prayer.
“Don’t look down baby girl, look up. We can get through this.”
Phil doesn’t realize the bed sheets have slowly shuffled, with Sally’s heel drawing up, inch-by-inch.
“Don’t look down Sally, just look up sweetie. You can beat this.”
By now, Jane’s alarm has resumed blaring. She wakes up and is shocked to have her eyes met by Sally. The only one’s closed are the praying ones of Phil.
