THE YEARS BETWEEN US
Written by Maame Dufie
CHAPTER 1
Andrew’s mind was clouded with exhaustion as he drove through the rain. His visit to his father’s house had left him emotionally drained, the weight of family secrets and strained relationships suffocating.
In the back seat, Princess, his lively seven-year-old daughter, was poking her baby brother, who let out an occasional wail of protest.
“Princess, stop bothering your brother,” Andrew muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. His voice carried a mix of frustration and fatigue.
The rain lashed against the windshield, the rhythmic thud of the wipers doing little to improve visibility. His phone buzzed in the cupholder.
“Daddy, your phone is ringing,” Princess piped up.
“I’ll get it later,” he replied, but the incessant buzzing distracted him. He reached for the phone, but it slipped and disappeared under the seat.
“Where is it?” Princess asked, her curiosity piqued, and before he could stop her, she began fumbling with her seatbelt.
“Princess! Stay in your seat!” Andrew’s voice rose sharply as he turned to scold her.
That’s when he heard her scream.
“Daddy! No!”
Andrew snapped his gaze forward just in time to see a figure emerge from the rain-soaked darkness. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.
The impact was jarring.
Andrew’s heart pounded as he threw the car into park and leaped out. Rain soaked him instantly as he rushed to the front of the car. A woman lay crumpled on the wet asphalt, unmoving, blood seeping into the puddles around her.
“Oh God,” he whispered, panic setting in.
Without hesitation, he scooped her up, her lifeless form heavier than he expected. Princess stared wide-eyed from the back seat, her brother, Damien, wailing in confusion.
“It’s going to be okay,” Andrew muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He placed the woman in the passenger seat, careful not to jostle her too much, and sped toward the hospital.
The fluorescent lights of the emergency unit were blinding compared to the stormy night outside. Andrew carried the woman inside, shouting for help. Nurses and doctors sprang into action, taking the woman from his arms and disappearing behind swinging doors.
He sank into a chair in the waiting area. Princess had wandered off to explore, but Andrew barely noticed. His white shirt was stained with blood, and his hands trembled. This scene replayed in his mind like a scene from a horror movie.
“Andrew?”
He looked up to see his wife Aubrey, her scrubs damp from a long shift, her eyes wide with concern.
“Baby, what happened?” she asked, her gaze shifting to the blood on his shirt and hands.
“I… I hit someone with the car,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. Before Aubrey could respond, he added, “Aubrey… I think it’s my mother.”
Aubrey couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Honey, you have to believe me,” Andrew said, his voice low but urgent. He leaned forward, intertwining his fingers with hers. “She’s the one. I know it.”
Aubrey studied his face, his bloodshot brown eyes desperate for understanding. Her training as a nurse kicked in, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the stress of the accident or the impact itself had clouded his mind.
“Baby,” she said gently, “are you sure you’re okay? No dizziness or pain? Maybe a headache?”
“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, though the faraway look in his eyes made her question it.
She glanced at his bloodstained shirt. She hesitated before asking, “Whose blood is that?”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
“It’s hers. Aubrey, I’m telling you, the woman I hit, she looks exactly like my mom.”
Her heart stuttered at his words. If someone had told her this morning that she’d end her day with her husband claiming he hit his supposedly dead mother with his car, she would’ve laughed them out of the room. But here they were.
“Where are the kids?” she asked, attempting to ground herself in something real.
Andrew frowned, leaning back. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I want to,” she replied, her voice measured. “But, Drew, you have to admit this sounds impossible. Your mom, she died six years ago. The police—”
“I know what it sounds like,” he said, his jaw tightening. “But we can go see her. You’ll understand when you see her.”
“No way,” Aubrey said, folding her arms. “I’m not getting wrapped up in whatever this is.”
Andrew smirked, though his eyes betrayed his weariness. “You signed up for all kinds of craziness the day you married me.”
“And I’m regretting it already,” she muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched despite herself.
“Mama!”
A small voice interrupted and a tiny but chubby hand tugged at the hem of her scrubs. She looked down to find Damien, their one-year-old, stretching his chubby arms up toward her.
“Hi, baby,” she murmured, scooping him onto her lap. He snuggled against her chest, his thumb finding its way into his mouth.
“Aubrey,” a voice called, sharper than Andrew’s soft pleading. She turned to see Dr. Anderson approaching, holding Princess’s hand firmly.
“Why did I find your daughter playing with the ICU nurses?” he asked, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
Aubrey sighed, trying to compose herself. “Princess,” she said, exasperated. “What were you doing with the nurses?”
Princess, unfazed, grinned as she took another bite of her sandwich.
“Baby, who gave you that sandwich?” Andrew asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“The doctor did,” she replied innocently. “He said I’d get more if I went with him.”
Dr. Anderson shook his head. “You need to keep an eye on your kids,” he said, but there was no real malice in his voice. His gaze shifted to Andrew. “So… I hear you’ve had an eventful night.”
Andrew stiffened. “You could say that.”
“Well,” Dr. Anderson continued, glancing at his clipboard, “she’s stable, and you can see her now.”
Andrew swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists on his knees.
“What if she doesn’t believe it was an accident?” he murmured.
“Babe,” Aubrey said gently, touching his arm, “you need to tell him what happened.”
Dr. Anderson’s expression grew serious, his arms crossing. “Because if she decides to press charges, this could get messy. You’re covered in her blood. It doesn’t look good.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. The weight of the night pressed down on him, suffocating. He glanced at his wife, her steady gaze grounding him.
“Okay,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “I’ll tell you everything.”