3

Three…

“What’ve you got?” someone called out. “You need—”

“Stretcher!” the blurry woman hovering over him with red hair shouted. About what, he hadn’t a clue. A siren, starting low and climbing high, rammed his ear. He turned his head toward it, and the blade piercing his shoulder caused him to grimace.

Three… he thought. Vans. Am. Ambu-somethin’s. Lights flashing. A party?

He coughed and wanted to meander about to see who all had showed up, but he didn’t move. Someone’s hurt… he thought, drawing his left hand up to slip the knife from his shoulder, only to grip empty air.

“Arm’s broken. Clavicle, too,” the woman said.

Three. flashing, he thought.

Three. The number had followed him all his life. Third born of triplets. 333 Milton Avenue. (623) 336-3933. jsilverg333@aol.com. Careers: programmer, accountant, coffee shop manager.

The woman with cropped red hair leaned her face toward his. “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice edging the soft side of hard.

“Sheila?” The word tumbling off his tongue sounded hollow, as if it sported a gaping hole.

“What?” his wife asked, hovering over him. Funny, uncomfortable in South Florida’s heat, she had always preferred shorts and bright, loose-fitting blouses. Never dark blue. Never uniforms. And, certainly, never badges.

“Sheila?” He lifted a hand to her face. It was good to see her again. It felt right—like she’d never left. Like she hadn’t jumped the track as they finished their third lap around the calendar.

She grasped his hand and gently lowered it to his side. “My name’s Celia. You’ve been in an accident. Do you understand?” she asked, strapping a black band around his arm. He thought how strange it was that Sheila would change her name, but “Celia” fit just fine.

“Brenna.” The sweet sound flowed over his lips as the black band squeezed his arm tight… tighter… and still tighter. “Birth—d-day,” he stuttered as developing pictures wobbled in his mind. A highway. A car. A thud… Then ground. And grass. And sky.

“Pressure’s dropping,” Celia called out. Funny, he’d never known her pressure to drop. He wondered what could be causing her to become un-high-strung.

“Adrenaline. Three units,” she said.

She must be baking. Of course. After all, it was Brenna’s birthday, and he was headed to her party at the end of the road, just three blocks away.

“Losing him!” Celia hollered and hit him in the chest.

His thoughts clicked: It is Sheila! She is back! Sheila, it’s Brenna's birthday. Let’s go, or we’ll be late.

The yellow sun snuggled warm and bright over Brenna’s back yard, and her eyes grew big as her mom set the white and purple-iced cake with three green candles on the picnic table. “Mmm…,” little Brenna said, rubbing her stomach. “Eatle it?”

“Not yet, we’ve got to wait on Uncle Don.”

“I’m here! Let that baby eat,” he said, but they didn’t turn his way. He said, “Happy birthday, Baby,” and then leaned down and kissed her cheek and smelled her sweet, salty, baby-musk smell. He whispered, “I love you.”

A peculiar look crawled across Brenna’s face—the look she always donned between discovering new things and deciding if they were good or bad. She touched tiny fingers to her cheek as she lifted her eyes. “Unc Don,” she said to the blue sky above, her face warming into the special smile she smiled whenever he and she walked along the beach.

Jeff Golden grew up in Milton, Florida, a small town outside of Pensacola. His life has been a mosaic of diverse work and interests. He has been a bank officer trainee, a high school teacher, a pastor, a computer systems analyst, and he is currently a freelance writer and the founder of Write FORCE, Inc., a writing company in Atlanta, Georgia.

Jeff sets a lot of his writing in and around Milton, the town he knows best. “Ace,” one of Jeff’s short stories, was recently published in an anthology called O’ Georgia: A collection of Georgia’s Newest and Most Promising Writers. His farce comedy play called “Surprise Party” has enjoyed a successful public reading. He is currently working on a screenplay called “Fallen Sparrow,” which is also set in Milton. In addition, he has written a novel manuscript, a children’s fantasy, two dozen short stories, poems, and greeting cards.