A Five-Minute Life

“I’d rather not say.”

“You have to say. They were my parents too.”

“I don’t want you to get the idea that you don’t need to be careful with money anymore.”

I crossed my arms. “I wasn’t irresponsible before the accident. I was going to college. Saving up for New York. I’m not a completely lost cause.”

“One million dollars,” she said as if I’d pried the words out of her mouth.

My jaw dropped. “A million? Between the two of us?”

“Each.”

“Holy shit.” I sat back in my chair. “That’s a lot of shoes.”

“I had no idea how much care you would need,” Delia said, “long-term or otherwise so I’ve been careful. Stretching it out to make it last as long as possible. Insuranc

e only goes so far.”

“Here we go,” Rita said, returning. She laid my wallet on the table in front of me, then hesitated. “I have your cell phone too. But…”

“But what?”

“I need to prepare you. It’s damaged from the accident.” She handed me the phone and a cord. “You can charge it at that outlet on the wall to see if it still works.”

The face of the phone was cracked, and dried blood was smeared across the home button. I couldn’t remember the accident, yet I held it in my hand, like a clairvoyant, holding an object and gleaning the truth from it.

With shaking hands, I plugged the phone in. We waited in silence for it to come back to life.

“It’s back,” I said as the screen came on. “Cracked and bloodied, but it’s still here.”

Like me.

Memories turned on in my mind with the phone. Texts with my friends, silly apps, and my music. God, my music was there. And photos.

I dipped my napkin in my water glass and gently wiped the blood away, then hit the photo icon. The last photo my phone took came up. Mom and Dad, Delia in her cap and gown, and me in a pink dress with paint splatters across the front. Tears blurred my vision.

“Look, Deel. It’s us. All of us.” I turned the phone’s cracked face to my sister. “Your graduation,” I said. “We were so… ourselves that day. I was aggravating you. Mom and Dad were so proud. And you were rushing us out the door so we wouldn’t be late.”

Delia looked away, blinking hard. “I should’ve been in that car.”

I dropped the phone in my lap. “No. No, don’t think that. Ever.”

She didn’t meet my eye, and I reached over and touched her hand.

“Hey. I know it’s been hard for you, dealing with everything alone. But I’m only awake because you took care of me. And if there’s one thing me waking up has taught me, is to be grateful for everything. Every minute. I’m so grateful for you, Delia.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Thea. Thank you.”

I tapped my chin. “It was Richard… No, Roger. Roger Nye. He’s the reason you weren’t in that car. If he were here, I’d give him a huge hug. Where is he now? What’s he been doing? What have you been doing? God, I don’t even know. I’ve been so wrapped up in—”

“You’ve been wrapped up in getting better,” Delia said. “And that’s exactly what you should be doing. Not running out the door the first chance you get.”

Delia hadn’t run away, though she could have at any time. She could’ve left thinking I’d have forgotten all about her, but she stayed.

I reached over and hugged her. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and extracted herself from me. Back in Business Mode. “Well. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go shopping.”