The One That Got Away
The final rays of light shot through the evening sky just as Reba Hart got into her car, fresh off from work. The day had been a pleasant one with not too many difficult tasks and plenty of friendly clients. She liked days like this where she could go to work happy and refreshed and leave the same way.
As she climbed into her car and started the engine, the radio began to play and she rolled her windows down, letting the cool fall air surround her as she drove out of the parking lot. She ran a hand through her hair as she drove along, thinking about how good it would feel to hop in the shower right when she got home and watch a movie on the couch with Jake and Kyra until she fell asleep. Her two children had been spending more and more time at home and even more so than that, they had been spending more time with each other. Jake had just turned fourteen and at nineteen, Kyra was in her second year of college. She learned very quickly that living in a dorm wasn't for her, so she moved back home and Reba couldn't have been happier.
She was just thinking of what movie the three could watch and what kind of pizza they could order when her vehicle lurched forward rather violently, a dull boom sounding behind her. Her head went forward, hitting the steering wheel with quite a bit of force. Wincing, Reba lifted her head and looked behind her to see that a big, four-door truck had rear-ended her pretty good. She could already see the driver, a tall man with brown hair, stepping out and walking towards her door. He tapped her window when he arrived.
A bit disoriented and in some pain, Reba unlocked the doors and stepped out of the car.
"Are you okay?" The man asked as Reba rubbed her forehead.
"Yeah, I'm fine. What happened?"
"Didn't brake in time. Are you sure you're okay? There's a bump on your forehead."
"I'm okay." She looked up at him for the first time, wincing as the she caught a glimpse of the sundown. It made her progressing headache worse. "I guess we should just wait on the police. Have you called them?"
"I can."
He whipped out his cellphone as Reba went around to the back of her car to assess the damage. Nothing major. Her bumper was dented as was his front. It would be a pain to get fixed, but it wouldn't be too expensive.
A moment later, he sighed. "They're sending somebody out," He told her. "Do you have insurance?"
"Of course. Do you?"
He nodded and leaned against his truck. "This is going to take a while."
It was nearly seven o'clock before Reba entered her house with tired eyes. Her once energetic attitude was now diminished to an irritated one. Her head was pounding and she felt like her face was covered in dust from standing on the side of the road for so long. When she walked in the house, she saw Jake and Brock sitting on the couch playing a video game and as she looked further into the house, she spotted Kyra at the dining room table with all her books and papers strewn out, doing homework. It was an odd sight to see, but it felt homey all the same.
"There you are," Jake said when she shut the front door, never looking up from his game. Brock, however, glanced her way.
"Yes, here I am," Reba said, hanging her purse up and taking her high heels off at the stairs.
"What happened to your head?" Brock asked.
At that, Jake looked up as well and noticed his mother's forehead was swollen and bruised. "Did you hit your head?" He asked.
"Yes," Reba said, walking into the kitchen. "On the steering wheel."
"You do know you're supposed to drive with your hands, right?" Kyra said from the table, not bothering to look up from her work.
Reba let out a sarcastic laugh. "You don't say?" She heard Brock and Jake follow her as she washed her hands at the sink.
"Seriously, Reba," Brock said. "What happened?"
"I got in a wreck."
Both Brock and Jake's mouths dropped open, but before they could bombard her with questions, she held up her hands as she dried them on a towel.
"I'm fine. It was nothing major, just a dented fender and a dented bumper."
"What happened?" Jake asked. "Was it a pile-up?"
"No, it was not a pile-up." Reba went to the refrigerator. "Have y'all eaten?"
"I ordered Chinese," Brock said. "Did they hit you or did you hit them?"
"He hit me. He didn't brake fast enough. But it's fine." She grabbed one of the five Chinese takeout boxes from the refrigerator, closing it with her foot. "We got everything sorted out. I'll take my car to the mechanic tomorrow to make sure everything's fine under the hood."
Jake seemed bored with the conversation when he found out there was no explosions involved, so he silently walked back into the living room to continue his game, reminding his dad to hurry back.
"You should let me take a look at your car," Brock said.
"Ha. Yeah, right." Reba stabbed a piece of orange chicken with a fork. "If something is wrong with it, I don't want you making it worse. I need an oil change anyway. This is just an excuse to go get that done."
"I can change your oil for you."
"Brock, give it up. I know you're all lonely because of the divorce, but you seriously can't keep offering to do those kinds of things for me."
"Why not?"
"Because it's weird. We're not married anymore. You're not supposed to change my oil or fix the broken shutter on the upstairs window or seal the leaky gutter. I'm supposed to either hire someone to fix those things or bribe Van."
Brock rolled his eyes. "Will you at least let me check out your head? It's swollen, honey."
"No, I will not, because it's fine." She carried her takeout box into the living room, Brock following. But before she made it past the counter, she stopped and turned. "You know what's odd, though?"
"What?"
"You know that wreck you and I had right before I had Kyra?"
"Yeah."
"The wreck I had was on the same street. Same kind of accident, too."
Brock shrugged. "Coincidence."
Reba blinked a few times, before nodding. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, I'm going to take this Chinese food and go to bed. I'm beat."
"Can I stay for a bit longer to finish my game with Jake?"
She nudged his shoulder. "You know you don't have to ask." She entered the living room.
"Just thought I'd make sure. You're even more picky about what I do now than when we were married."
She started up the stairs. "Ha! I don't care what you do, Brock, as long as you do it away from me."
Her head wasn't pounding the next morning like she thought it would be. It was surprisingly painless and when she woke up a bit more, she touched her forehead and noticed the swelling had gone down completely. The aspirin she had taken before falling asleep had really done the trick.
She rolled over in bed, not wanting to get up yet, but wondering why her alarm hadn't gone off yet. It felt like it was at least eight in the morning. She always liked to be up by six so she could have a little time to shower, drink a cup or two of coffee and visit with the kids before they went to school at eight and she headed off to work at eight thirty.
Yawning, she opened her eyes and nearly screamed when she saw Brock's sleeping body beside her own. She stifled the scream and sat up quickly, shaking the bed and waking him. She sat there with her hand over her mouth until he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"What's wrong with you?" He asked.
His voice must have given her permission to move because the first thing she did was grab a pillow and start beating him with it. Over and over again, she hit him with her pillow. All along, he was protesting and shielding himself as she yelled at him.
"How could you sleep with me? I told you that you could stay and play a game with Jake, not spend the night in my bed, you twisted, orange manatee! Get. Out. Of. My. Room." With each word, she hit him harder until he pulled the pillow from her hands. By this time, she had jumped off the bed and continued her abuse standing up.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked. He threw the pillow to where she had been laying and stood as well, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Reba winced and looked away.
"What's wrong with me?" She asked. "What's wrong with you?" She stepped back. "What kind of person sleeps with their ex-wife without her knowing it?"
"Ex-wife?"
"Yes, ex. As in, excuse me, get out of my room and put some clothes on!" She lunged for the pillow again, but he caught her and drug her to her feet.
"You're not making any sense, Reba." He grabbed her by her shoulders. "Please tell me why you're beating me and calling me your ex-husband."
"Well, that's what you are."
"Is that what people are calling their husbands nowadays? Their ex-husbands?"
"You're not my husband, Brock! You haven't been for seven years!"
He held up his left hand, showing her his gold wedding band before lifting her left hand as well. She gasped when she saw her glittering, diamond wedding ring on her ring finger. She hadn't touched or even looked at her wedding ring since she took it off the day her divorce was final seven years ago. How it ended up on her finger, she had no clue.
"Who put that there? Did you? While I was sleeping?" She twisted it off, breaking out of his grasp and holding it tightly in her hand.
"Reba, you're really starting to scare me. You're talking nonsense."
"You're the one saying we're married when we're not!"
Brock shook his head. "Maybe you just need to go back to bed. I can handle the office by myself today." He walked off towards the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Reba heard the shower turn on and slowly sat on the bed. The sheets were all messy from the pillow fight moments ago.
She was really starting to freak out. So all of a sudden she wakes up and is married to Brock again? Was this some sort of dream? She shut her eyes and pinched her arm. She had always heard that you can't get hurt in dreams. When she felt the pinch, she sighed. Either the getting hurt in dreams story was a lie or this was all real. But this kind of thing wasn't possible. You can't go back in time.
Maybe I didn't... She thought to herself, thinking about the car accident the night before and her comment to Brock about having one with him in the car with her right before Kyra was born.
She reached for her cellphone on her end-table and unlocked it. The date was the day after the crash. Same year and everything. Only one day had passed. It didn't make sense. She walked to her vanity and bent over, looking at herself in the mirror. She didn't look any different and she didn't feel any different. She supposed the only thing out of the ordinary was Brock claiming to be her husband.
As the shower turned off, Reba's mind went back to the television program she had been watching the night before. It was something on Nightline. There were people claiming to visit alternate realities after experiencing similar occurrences that happened earlier in their lives. Just like her and the car crash. These people claimed that they were not dreaming and that each time they slept and woke up, they would be in a new reality with new details that weren't in the reality they were familiar with. When Reba had been watching the program, she had thought that it was a bunch of buffalo droppings. But as she watched Brock exit the bathroom with a towel around his waist, she wondered if those people might be right.
"Brock?"
"Yeah?"
Reba looked at him ruffling around in the top drawer of his dresser. It was so odd to see his dresser in her room again.
"Am I crazy?" She asked.
"What?" He closed the drawer and turned around to look at her.
"Am I crazy?"
"No, but you sure were acting like it a minute ago." He put on his boxer shorts before dropping his towel.
"Brock, when I went to sleep last night, we were divorced. I had a car accident last night and I hit my head. When I came home, you were in the living room with Jake and Kyra and you guys ordered Chinese food. You were worried about my head and the car and I told you I was fine. Then I went to bed and woke up married again."
"I can assure you that we were very much married last night. You didn't have a car accident, you were with me and the kids at the pizza place."
Reba shook her head, standing. "But I don't remember that. I remember the accident and my headache. I had such a bad headache and a nasty bruise." She put her hand to her forehead and shoved her hair back. "Do you see it?"
Brock looked closer but shook, his head. "There's nothing there."
Reba sighed, letting her hand fall to her side. "Then something really strange is going on."
Brock went to the closet and pulled out a shirt and pants. "It was probably just a bad dream."
"It wasn't a dream. I remember it."
Brock shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."
"You don't have to be a jerk about it..."
"Well, what would you do if I was telling you that we were divorced when we're not? Why would we even be divorced in the first place? We've been married for twenty seven years."
"Because you cheated on me with Barbra Jean and had a baby with her!"
"Do what?"
"Yes. Seven years ago you cheated on me with Barbra Jean, got her pregnant and we got a divorce."
Brock stared at her before shaking his head. "That's ridiculous, Reba. You know I'd never do something like that. Barbra Jean doesn't even work for me anymore."
"Brock, I'm kind of scared, okay? You don't have to get mean."
His eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I'm just confused."
"And I'm not?"
"I didn't say that." He stepped into his pants, zipping them up before sliding his shirt on his arms, bringing it together to button it. When he did, he lovingly grabbed her by the shoulders. "Just calm down. Take a deep breath and clear your head. I'm sure whatever's happening will clear itself up. Don't let your blood pressure go through the roof. You remember what the doctor said."
"No. What did the doctor say? Is there something wrong?"
"I wouldn't call a baby wrong, would you?"
"A baby?"
Brock's arms slid off her shoulders. "Let me guess. You 'forgot' you were pregnant?"
"What? Pregnant...?
Reba immediately looked down and smoothed her pajama shirt over her belly. She hadn't even noticed that her middle was protruding much more than it normally would. She didn't look fat, she absolutely looked pregnant. She ran a hand over her stomach and shivered at the thought of a little life being inside her. She didn't know this child and it was almost an eerie feeling knowing it was hers and Brock's.
She looked back up at him. "I'm pregnant?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Almost ten weeks now"
"But...but I can't have another baby. How did this- How...what...?" She mumbled, trying to form words, but her brain wasn't cooperating. It was still trying to process the word 'pregnant.'
"It was a pretty big surprise."
"I guess..." She placed her hand on her belly once more. She was scared and confused, but oddly happy at the same time. Then she wondered if she'd ever get to meet her baby, if it was even real in the first place, but she had been pregnant before. This was too full of life to be just a figment of her imagination.
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
Brock was looking at her hand on her belly. "It's a boy." He looked up at her. "You're kind of starting to scare me, Reba."
"I'm scaring myself."
He shook his head. "How do you not remember your husband and your baby?"
"I don't know. I'm just as confused, Brock. Please understand. You're my best friend. You're supposed to listen to me and understand."
"So now I'm your best friend?"
"We never stopped being friends, even after we divorced."
He shook his head. "What brought all this on, Reba? Did I do something to make you mad?"
"No. I think it was the wreck-"
"But there was no wreck."
"There was before I went to sleep last night. I know good and well what I was doing last night. Heck, I even know what you were doing and we weren't at the pizza place like you said. Just understand that I'm freaking out, okay? You don't have to believe me, but don't be a jerk."
"Okay. I'm sorry." He grabbed her arm and went to pull her in for a kiss, but she turned her head, his lips landing on her cheek instead.
"I'm sorry," She said softly, her head still turned. "I can't."
He sighed. "I can't kiss you now?"
"Not until I know what's going on." She turned to him, backing up a little bit. "Don't be angry with me."
"I'm not." He let go of her arm, trying to make her more comfortable. "Why don't you just take today off and get some rest? You need it anyway. You told me last week that you weren't sleeping all that well at night. At least I think you told me..."
Reba nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I can fall asleep and wake back up in the life I know."
Brock tried to hide the hurt in his eyes, but Reba saw it and she made a mental note to try and be more understanding. If she wanted him to be understanding towards her, the least she could do was give him the same courtesy.
"Have a good day at work." She leaned forward and gave him a hug, letting him hug her back.
"I'll see you later." He held on a moment longer before grabbing his things and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Reba flopped down on her bed with a sigh, forcing herself to believe that this was just a horrible dream and that it would all go back to normal once she fell asleep and woke up. When that happened, she'd be back in her regular life again. She just knew it.
I know this is a bit different than my other stories, but this idea came to me while I was listening to The One That Got Away by Katy Perry on the radio and thought it might be interesting to try and write a story based on the song. It won't follow the song exactly, though. It just kind of inspired it. It also reminds me of the plot of the new NBC show Awake. If you haven't seen it, check it out. It's interesting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. (:
