"I waited up for you."
Who knew those would be the last words he would ever hear her say? Why does it have to be that way? There's nothing that could simplify the feelings that never seemed to go away. It was complicated and hard and not something anybody should have to go through. It was a rocky relationship, but did it have to end that way? They could have fixed things, couldn't they? None of it was fair. Not one part of it was fair. He beat himself up over it all the time. He wasn't there enough. He didn't pay enough attention. Married to his work. Didn't have time. All of those things floated around in his mind like the cloud the rest of him felt like it was on.
Tommy Oliver sat on the floor of his home in Reefside, California with an empty bottle of bourbon in his hand, tears threatening his eyes for the umpteenth time. Nothing seemed real anymore. Not if life could be ripped away so easily like that.
"Why," he cried out to nothing but the darkness of his house and the blue grey glow of the television set. He threw the bottle across the room and it shattered against the living room wall. He kept replaying that night in his head like a movie reel. He remembered every detail, but couldn't figure out why he couldn't change the outcome.
"You should be here," he cried to a picture of her on the side table at the end of his couch, "You should be here." He pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his elbows on them and cried with his head in his hands. That night never should have happened.
Flashback – July 18, 2004
"When are you going to be home," she asked him quietly over the phone in their kitchen.
"I don't know, Kim," he said, "It's a big race and it might take a while. I'll call when 'm on my way home."
"Okay, well you better eat something there then," she said and she heard him chuckle.
"I will. I'll see you later, Beautiful," he said to her.
"Bye Handsome," she replied and he heard her blow him a kiss over the phone. He smiled.
"I love you too," he said just before hanging up.
It was a hot day in Southern Florida. Tommy was still teaching, but his uncle had asked him to race for him again over the summer and who was he to say no to a bit of fun. Kimberly had come back into his life a couple years ago, but they kept everything quiet. It was hard getting back into something that ended like that. Their feelings had never changed but they had changed and they had to take time getting to know each other again. Tommy wasn't exactly a huge talker when it came to personal stuff, he hadn't even told Hayley who was supposed to be his best friend. Over the years, it seemed Kim had begun to keep to herself too. That made things a little bit easier on them. Its not to say that they didn't have their rocky moments, but so far things looked good for them. She was coaching gymnastics in Florida and she would take vacation to fly out to see him and vice versa. She was overjoyed when he called to tell her that he'd be in Florida for a few weeks racing.
"Its going to be perfect," she squealed when he told her.
He put his phone back in his pocket and got his helmet on. This was the last race of the day and it was already late. He half expected her to be in bed by the time he got there.
"You all set, Tommy," his uncle shouted over the roar of the engines.
"Yeah," Tommy shouted back and his uncle patted his helmet and Tommy climbed into his car.
The race felt like it took forever. Tommy almost lost control once but recovered quickly. He came in second place to some redneck he'd never even heard of. This guy had a real ego and a bad attitude.
"Hey! Hey Oliver," he shouted and Tommy turned, "How's it feel?"
"How's what feel," Tommy shouted asked.
"To come in riding my ass like the fagget ass bitch you are," he yelled laughing and drowning himself in the bottle champagne he received for coming in first place.
"Well, at least I know I don't have to get anyone drunk to get some," Tommy shouted back as this guy poured champagne down some large chested girl's throat.
"Is that right," he said, throwing the bottle aside and coming toward Tommy. Tommy just nodded with a smile on his face.
"Oh, right you've got that fine gymnastics coach to go home to, right," he said, slyly and Tommy just raised an eyebrow, "Oooh, I'd like to get me some of that. So tell me, boy, how is she?"
"Out of your league," Tommy stated simply. Mr. Bad Attitude just nodded.
"Well, when you get home tonight make sure she knows the definition of pity fuck cause that's all its gonna be, son," Bad Attitude said, pointing at Tommy as he walked backwards toward his car and big chested, blonde bimbo.
"You would know," Tommy spat back, his blood near boiling, "Because nobody in their right mind would fuck you sober."
"What did you say to me, boy," Bad Attitude said, getting back up in Tommy's face.
"You heard me," Tommy growled. Bad attitude pushed Tommy and Tommy just laughed.
"You're out of your mind," Tommy said, "You may have beat me at a race but you wouldn't stand a chance in a ring with me."
"Is that right," Bad Attitude said and before Tommy could answer, he threw a punch and Tommy caught his arm mid swing and pulled him in so that they were nose to nose.
"That's right," Tommy said, "Now I suggest you get the fuck out of my face before something bad happens to you." With that, Tommy pushed him away and turned and walked away.
"Something bad might happen to you, you son of a bitch," Bad Attitude called after him, "You hear me bitch! I'd watch my back if I were you!"
Tommy simply ignored him and kept walking. He went and got cleaned up and stopped at an all-night Walgreens and picked up some flowers for Kim and continued on his way home.
He opened the door to the darkened house on Princeton Street and the blue light of the TV flickered from the living room. He slipped his shoes off and set the flowers on the entrance table to shrug off his jacket. He picked them up and quietly walked into the living room and saw her, in one of his old red flannel button down shirts and black shorts. It was buttoned only half way up and he could see her black bra and it made him shake his head and smile. She was laid across the couch with one foot up on the arm. He set the flowers on the coffee table and rubbed her foot. She stirred and opened her eyes.
"Hey," he said softly, "What are you doing down here?" she smiled and slowly stood up and put her arms around him.
"I waited up for you," she said with a groggy smile and giving him no more than a foot of space between them, her arms still around his neck. He smiled at her, leaning in and giving her a soft and sensual kiss on the lips. She dropped her hands, took his hand and took one step toward the stairs.
Then came the loudest pop, pop, pop and the sound of shattered glass as the window exploded and Tommy watched her in slow motion fall to the floor. He hit the floor and Army crawled to her as a barrage of bullets came through the windows and peppered the front door.
"KIM," he yelled over the noise, "KIM!" He reached her as the bullets stopped. She was on her side. One leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, her torso turned more toward the floor, one arm palm down on the floor with the other outstretched under her head. He sat up and rolled her over. Her eyes were closed. He quickly checked her pulse and it was weak but still there. He moved behind her and pulled her into his lap. Blood covered his shirt and her chest. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911. Tears formed rivers down his cheeks.
"911. What's your emergency," came the dispatcher's voice.
"There's been a shooting," he said between sobs, "She's been shot. Oh God, she's bleeding."
"Okay, sir, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me where you are," the voice told him.
"Ummm…..226 Princeton Street in Lake Worth," Tommy said, trying to keep his voice even.
"Okay, I have an ambulance on its way," she told him, "Can you see where the bleeding is coming from?"
"I'm not sure," Tommy said, frantically searching her body. He fumbled with the buttons on the shirt and found the bullet wound in her abdomen.
"Its in her stomach," Tommy told her, "But there's blood all over. I can't tell if there is more than one."
"Put pressure where you see the wound and try to find any other wounds. Are you certain you haven't been injured in any way," the dispatcher asked.
"I don't know," Tommy said, hysterically and trying to find any other wounds on her body. He could hear the sirens and they were getting close.
"The paramedics should be there any minute," the dispatcher tried to reassure him.
"I hear the sirens," Tommy said softly. He was staring at her face and trying to will her eyes open. He felt like it was a dream. Nothing seemed real. The paramedics knocked but opened the door anyway and immediately started working on Kimberly, who was limp and lifeless on the floor in a puddle of blood. A female paramedic took Tommy by the arms and brought him outside to check and make sure he was okay.
"Sir," she said, "Sir, can you tell me what happened?" Tommy didn't look at her face, didn't hear her words and seemed to be looking over her. She pulled out a small flashlight and shined it in his eyes.
"Mack, he's non-responsive," she said, "I think he's in shock."
The next thing Tommy remembered was waking up in a hospital bed. A nurse was next to his bed and checking is IV. She was writing something down on her clip board.
"Where am I," he asked her groggily.
"You're at JFK Medical Center," the nurse said, "You suffered a gunshot wound to the left arms and two fractured ribs. You came in with a young woman."
"Do you know where she is," he asked.
"I'm sorry, I don't" she said, "Is there anything I can get you?"
"No," he said, "I just want to know that she's okay."
"I'll see what I can do, Dr. Oliver," she said and turned and left the room.
It took a few hours but a doctor and a police officer finally entered the hospital room Tommy was in. He was sitting up in the bed making phone calls to his family members letting them know he was okay but that he had no word yet on Kimberly's condition.
"Dr. Oliver," the police officer said and Tommy quickly ended the phone call and turned to them.
"Where's Kimberly," he asked, "Is she okay?" The doctor touched the officers shoulder and took a step forward.
"Dr. Oliver I'm very sorry to have to tell you, but Ms. Hart suffered some very severe injuries. Unfortunately, she passed away before we could even get her into the operating room. She had lost too much blood from the multiple gunshot wounds that she had suffered," the doctor explained.
"Multiple," was all Tommy could muster to say.
"There was a considerable amount of damage done. She suffered the wound to the abdomen which had punctured the celiac trunk and then there was a more superficial wound to her scapula, but the one that we think caused the most damage," the doctor continued to explain, "was the bullet wound to the back of her neck that severed her spinal cord at C7. Even if she had survived, she would have been paralyzed."
"But at least she'd still be here," Tommy whispered, fresh tears fell down her cheeks.
Present
He sat with his head in his hands, sobbing and wishing he were dead. Nothing seemed worth living for anymore. This was one of those nights that happened every once in a while now. A night when she was all he could think about, all he wanted. What he wouldn't give to feel her lips again or just the touch of her hand on his face. It had been almost five years since it happened. He thought that he'd be over it by now, but she was the love of his life. She was his everything. How was he supposed to live without her? He had good days when the pain was at a minimal level and he felt like he could function without feeling like it was wrong that his heart was still beating while she was buried in a hole somewhere. How was that fair?