By Proxy(8)

She gasped loudly, breathing in audibly, painfully, as though she hadn’t taken a breath since her car stopped moving, as though his simple touch had woken her up from a nightmare. Her breath came out as a sob, racking her shoulders.

He covered her hands, gently loosening her claw-like grip from the steering wheel.

She clutched at his hands.

“Are you—Hey, are you okay?” He wished he knew her better so he’d best know how to help her, what to say to comfort her.

She cried more steadily now, sobbing in a heartbreaking way that made Sam feel even more helpless.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, squatting beside her, holding her cold, tense hands.

She shook her head back and forth, as much from shivering as in answer to his question. He gently let go of her hands and shrugged out of his heavy coat in one smooth movement, leaning back down to drape it clumsily across her chest and lap.

“Th-thank you.” Her hands covered her face, muffling her voice.

He patted her shoulder. “It was…it was black ice. You spun out. Did you see it?”

She breathed in deeply, shakily. Her fingers trembled as she placed one hand over the other on her chest. “N-no. I d-didn’t know what happened.” She sniffled, and it seemed like she was starting to calm down a little. She looked at Sam to her left, wiping tears off her cheeks with her palms. She sighed loudly, leaning her head back against the headrest and closing her eyes. “I’m sorry I was so terrible.”

“No! Hey! Jenny, you were great. Most people would have at least hit the guardrail, or hit someone else, or, you know, spun out into traffic and caused an accident. You didn’t hit anything. You’re in one piece. Your car’s in one piece. You’re a little shaken up, but seriously, you did great.”

Jenny stared at his face for a moment and then crumpled again, shoulders shaking.

Nice job, Sam. Way to be a comfort. She doesn’t need to hear the worst-case scenario. He reached out to stroke her arm and he realized with a start the noises she was making didn’t sound exactly like crying. Hold on. It sounded like a cross between crying and…laughing? Yeah.

She sort of laughed and cried at the same time, and tears covered her red, puffy face. “I meant…I meant at the courthouse,” she clarified. “That’s what I was thinking about right before my car—”

“Oh!” Sam’s forehead wrinkled. Maybe she was in shock or had a concussion. He spoke slowly and carefully, patting her shoulder again. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. You know what, Jenny? We’ll take a mulligan, okay?”

She shook her head a little as if to clear it, took a deep, clean breath, then looked at him with perplexed eyes. “A mulligan?”

Sam smiled. “In golf. If your first shot stinks, you’re allowed to take a second shot. A second chance. It’s called a mulligan.”

“A mulligan.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. That’s good. I’d like a mulligan.”

She’s worried about me. She could have been killed, but she’s worried about me and my feelings. It made him uncomfortable, so he pushed it out of his mind. “Um,” he started. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head at all? Did you—”

“No.” She sat up a little straighter and clicked the seatbelt to finally release it, rubbing a spot on her chest where it must have pressed into her skin. “No. I didn’t hurt myself. The airbag didn’t even…I’m fine, Sam. Just a little—”

“Shaken up.” He offered her a sympathetic smile.

She nodded, and tears filled her eyes again, as she bit her lower lip. “You’re very kind. And I was so terrible…”

“Jenny. I was an hour late. We missed the appointment and the weather got worse. You had a right to be upset, okay?” His face softened. “Anyway, we’re taking a mulligan, remember?”

She sniffled and nodded but looked unconvinced.

His fear for her came out in a rush. “I was worried. It happened so fast. You could have—” He paused. “You were lucky.”

Jenny swiped a tear rolling down her cheek and nodded again.

Sam leaned closer to the car and took her hand from her cheek. It wasn’t as tense now, almost pliant, but still cold, and he rubbed it between his until he realized she was trying to gently but firmly pull it away. The blotchiness on her face had deepened with a more recent infusion of pink.

She swallowed, pushing his coat away. “Let me give you back your—”

“Are you sure? It’s a warm coat.”

“It is. Thank you for it. But, I have my own. In the back.”