A Five-Minute Life

Dr. Chen gave me the okay to go to the Westfield Mall at Roanoke, provided Rita was there and we took the medical van with the driver on standby. The staff had already made a medic-alert bracelet for me and Rita clasped it to my wrist as we left Blue Ridge.

“Wearer of this bracelet may appear disoriented or confused,” I read off the silver band. “If found, please call 911. If found? Like I’m a lost puppy?”

“It’s a smart precaution,” Delia said.

I didn’t argue. Precaution was Delia’s middle name, and the doctors had to protect me in the event their medication failed. But the bracelet felt heavy and pessimistic. The medication wasn’t going to fail. And if it did, all the more reason to get out in the world and not sit around a sanitarium waiting for the ax to fall.

At the outdoor mall in Roanoke, I found some better clothes at H&M—colorful peasant blouses, cut-off jean shorts, off-the-shoulder shirts. Delia insisted on finding sales and paying with a special card that accessed my life insurance bank account.

I started to tell her I could pay myself. At the time of the accident, I had over three thousand dollars in savings.

But is it still there?

I planned to wear my new clothes out of the store. In the fitting room, I ditched the khakis forever and changed into cut-off shorts and a green tank top with embroidered yellow daisies on the front. I slipped my wallet into a new, colorful Boho-style stitched bag, wondering if the cards still worked. If my driver’s license was expired. Can I drive again? Be independent again?

Suddenly I was desperate to know my money was there. Not the million from the insurance policy—that was too much and felt more like Delia’s. The three thousand dollars was mine.

“I want to hit American Eagle and Urban Outfitters next,” I said. “But first I need a Wetzel’s pretzel like nobody’s business.”

Rita fanned herself with her hand. “And a lemonade.”

We took our food to an outside table under a large yellow umbrella, and I spied an ATM near the bathrooms down a corridor.

“I gotta pee,” I said, grabbing my bag. “B-R-B.”

“Someone should go with you,” Delia said.

“Nah,” I said casually and popped a pretzel bite in my mouth. Salt and breaded goodness made me close my eyes in ecstasy. “Lord, Wetzel’s knows their shit.” I patted Delia on the top of her head. “I’ll be back in five or you can send the SWAT.”

Without waiting for her permission, I hurried toward the bathrooms. Instead of going inside, I went to the ATM just around the corner and jammed my bank card in. For a half a second, I panicked when it asked for my PIN and then it came to me.

“Keep doing your thing, Hazarin,” I muttered, then let out a little cry of joy. My card worked and my bank balance showed more than I thought. Nearly four thousand dollars.

Plenty.

I don’t know what I had “plenty” of money for, only that hell would ice over before Delia gave me access to the money our parents left me. At least not yet. And I couldn’t wait for that day to come.

I couldn’t wait one more day for anything.

I slipped my card in my wallet, the wallet in my bag, and headed back to Rita and Delia.

“Ready?” I asked. “Time to shop.”

We went into Urban Outfitters where I tried on a low-cut sundress in white with little laces at the bodice.

“Pretty sexy,” Delia said. “Where do you plan on wearing that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a date.”

“With whom? You don’t know anyone.”

Jimmy Whelan popped immediately into my thoughts, making my skin shiver pleasantly. “Yes, I do,” I said, almost to myself.

Rita’s face turned pink as she riffled through a rack of denim jackets. Delia’s eyes widened.

“Who?” she asked. “God, don’t tell me you mean that orderly?”

“That orderly?” I said. “Elitist, much? Yes, I mean Jimmy. We’re friends but… who knows what could happen? And who cares about his job? He could be a janitor at a nudie club for all I care.”