Author's Note: Two years ago a very good freind lost her arm in a single car accident. Even after two years, I watch her struggle with depression and a shattered self image. It's often time frustrating to watch, but more often humbling to see someone coping with a loss I don't know that I could bear. this story is for her and for all of those who daily have to face that battle.
Chris sat at her vanity, her eyes blank as sweat poured off her shaking body. She was back there again. On I-45, headed north and back to her home. It all happened in slow motion, first the oncoming car swerving erratically. She remembered breaking, moving to the slow lane, and preparing to go onto the shoulder if necessary. She never got the chance, at over one hundred miles per hour the red corvette hit the median and jumped the rail. Frozen moments in time. She could feel her heart leap into her throat, hear the sickening sound of glass shattering and metal crunching, feel again the solid thump as the airbag deployed.
And then she was staring at her face in the vanity. The waking nightmare gone as quickly as it had come. She looked down immediately, hoping against hope it was just a nightmare, but the smooth clean stump where her left leg had once been was there, telling her it was all real. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed until her whole body shuddered with each breath.
***
Chris walked carefully out the front of the building and hailed a cab. It had taken her two years of rehab to learn to walk on the prosthesis and even now, it hurt her with each step. The myoelectric was less painful, but more work and it was so expensive she only wore it occasionally, using the more simple one for everyday moving around the house or going without. Once she had prided herself on wearing daring, but elegant heels to work every day. Now she could barely maintain her balance in tennis shoes.
The cabbie was Indian, his English so broken she could barely understand it. He shot away from the curb and into traffic, causing the tall woman's heart to leap into her throat. She still feared cars, and supposed she always would. The memory was just to strong and stark to fight down when she was in a moving vehicle.
She was thankful when the cab pulled to the curb and tipped him handsomely, just to avoid any confrontation. She knew she would need all her resources and couldn't afford to waste them here. Not today. Her first day back at work.
The place hadn't changed at all, of course that was expected. H.P. Levin & Sons never changed. The company had become successful by a commitment to tradition. People seemed to appreciate the unchanging façade with their accounting firm. Something solid and sure that put them at ease, and the current directors keenly appreciated the competitive edge it gave them.
She was very early, hoping to avoid making a scene. The first person she met was Sam, the aged janitor. Like the company, he never changed. He had been gray and balding, with weathered black skin and wrinkles when she started here, fifteen years ago He looked exactly like he did the first morning she had arrived, fresh from school, the company's first full time female accountant.
"Miss Chris?" he said, taking his bedraggled cap off.
"Hello Sam," she managed.
"It is you!" the old man said, smiling so wide and genuine she couldn't help but smile back.
Before she could do anything he wrapped her up in his arms and hugged her tightly. Three years ago, she would have found such familiarity embarrassing. Now, she just hugged him back.
"We were all so worried about you. Welcome back, ma'am, can I get you some coffee? There's fresh in the break room, just brewed it myself."
"That would be lovely, Sam, thank you so much."
"It's purely my pleasure," he said, ambling off at the slow mosey she knew was hurrying for him.
Chris continued on to her office. It too hadn't changed. Her secretary had obviously dusted and cleaned it in her absence. A few files lay on her desk, the accounts she had done at home while rehabbing. She had been surprised and rather flattered, when none of her clients had asked for a new accountant. She knew loosing her leg didn't change her mind, but still, she always feared people would see her differently.
Sitting was a major undertaking and she had just managed to get the weight off her stump and place the prosthesis under the desk when Sam came in.
"Here ya go, black and strong. I brought some sugar and sweetener, wasn't sure what you take."
"Black is fine Sam. How've you been?"
"I been fair to middlein'. You know how it is around here. The company time forgot," he said with a big smile.
"How's Grace?"
"Mean as a rattler."
She laughed then. Sam's wife Grace was perhaps the sweetest, most gentle woman she had ever met. There wasn't a mean bone in her frail body and he knew it, but he always made out like he was married to Hecate herself.
"Liar. Seriously?"
"Well, she had some trouble with her liver. Was in the hospital a while. I didn't know how I was gonna pay for it, but Miss Sarah, when she heard she took care of it all. Had Gracie transferred from the General over to Columbia Pres and got her the finest doctors. She's fine now, but she can't get around as much as she used too."
"And little Sam?"
"Ain't little no more, that boy is a big ole chunk of man. He's over there somewhere. Can't tell us where, but he's due to come home in a month or two."
"Send him my love," Chris said, meaning it.
"I'll do that ma'am and it it'll tickle him pink. He always had a thing for you."
"Well, I'm single," she replied, enjoying the banter.
She knew full well that little Sam was married to a girl from Virginia Beach, near where he was stationed.
"I gotta get going, ma'am, the bosses'll be in soon and they get plum bent outta shape if the wastepaper baskets ain't empty to start the morning. You take care of yo'self and don't over do it."
Sam turned and nearly collided with a tall, raven haired beauty in a smart black business dress.
"Mon'in, Miss Sarah," he said, doffing his cap again.
"Good Morning, Sam," she replied.
"Coffee, ma'am?"
"No, thank you, I got some Starbucks this morning."
"Waste of good water, if ya ask me," he said, as he shuffled off to empty the wastepaper baskets.
"Hello, Chris," she said after Sam had departed.
"Hello, Miss Levin."
"Miss Levin? Why so formal?"
"Oh, I don't know, Sarah. I'm just so nervous," Chris admitted.
The tall girl came over and sat on the edge of her desk and smiled encouragingly. The pose was friendly, but also slightly provocative.
"Well, don't be. Everyone has missed you, especially me," she said seriously.
Chris smiled up at her. Another secret to the company's success was the way the Levin family treated every employee like family.
"How's Clint?" Sarah asked.
"I wouldn't know. He canceled the engagement," she replied, feeling again the deep sense of loss.
She didn't notice the predatory expression that passed over the tall girl's face. Her mind was already falling off into that black place where time and light had no meaning. She fought it with all her strength, knowing that if she ever gave in to it again she wouldn't be coming back.
"I know it isn't my business, but may I ask why?"
"My leg," she whispered, feeling the tears welling in her eyes.
Before they could fall, Sarah leaned over and hugged her fiercely.
"I'm so sorry, hun," she said in a soothing voice.
"I am too," she said in a nearly inaudible whisper.
Sarah's hug was warm and comforting. Chris closed her eyes and was surprised to note the heady musk of the younger woman's perfume. It was understated, but still a little surprising from the boss's daughter.
"I've got to get to my office. Daddy will be in soon and he will have a conniption fit if I don't have the third quarter figures," Sarah said after sitting back up.
"You can't lie to me, you have him wrapped around your finger."
"I know, isn't it grand?" Sarah replied while laughing.
She stood and started for the door, but paused.
"Chris, I'd really like to talk some more, would you like to have lunch with me?"
"I wasn't planning on leaving for lunch," she said hesitantly.
"Nonsense. You aren't going to hide in your office. I won't let you. I'll come get you when the eleven o'clock conference breaks."
Chris smiled and shook her head. There was no use arguing with Sarah, the girl always got her way. And not just because she was the old man's daughter. She was a forceful and vivacious girl, armed with charm, grace, beauty and confidence. She did occasionally abuse her relationship with her father, but she could do so only because she was every bit his equal.
Her brother Charles, the only son, had been killed in a motorcycle accident when Sarah was a freshman at Weslyn College. Sarah had transferred to Fordham's business college and graduated with honors. Until then, she had been expected to become a society lady, but the loss of her older brother had changed her. She developed the drive and ambition to succeed that her father valued so highly. As the heir to the family business, she had done everything to learn about it and while Deek was still officially, President and CEO, Sarah actually ran almost all the day to day affairs.
