Reborn

It is too dark for three-thirty in the afternoon. My sister, Leila, just got home from school. Every noise she makes seems abnormally loud against the stillness and it sends a shiver up my spine. Something is not right. There's an eerie, greenish light replacing the sunlight that should be streaming in the westward facing windows. I reach in my basket and pull out a small flashlight. I know it will be safe to turn on because my mom and dad won't be home until after five. Leila won't tell. Leila has known about me from the time she could crawl, but she pretends not to when my parents are around. I am everyone's secret.

Leila is in the third grade. This is the first year she has been allowed to walk home from her nearby school. Usually, I like it when it is just the two of us. I watch her through the crack in the center panel of my closet door. She is beautiful. Blond hair hangs midway down her back and the lightest sprinkle of freckles are scattered across her fine cheekbones and upturned nose. We talk, well, she does most of the talking, but it is always the best part of my day.

Leila turns on the television and a high-pitched ringing fills the room. I can see the screen and hear the man say "everyone seek shelter immediately!" Leila doesn't move. A distant, deep rumbling sound grows louder and louder, drowning out most of the weatherman's frantic instructions. I hear him say, 'tornado warning' and I know that is bad...real bad. Breaking all the rules, I scream, "Leila! Leila! Go downstairs. Remember what mom told you to do if there is a tornado!! GO!!" She stands, still frozen, unable to hear the words above the roaring din. Leila turns and runs to my closet door. "Angie!!! Help me!!!" She screams as she grabs the doorknob and pulls with all her might. She is so close I can smell the sweetness of her breath. Helpless, I say, "Honey, I can't. Mama's got the key."

I'm dazed. An unseen force is pressing me tight against the back of the closet. It's hard to breathe. I feel my own heartbeat in my ears. Everything is so loud...until, it isn't. I am scared, like the day I was put into the closet. I crawl over to my crack in the door. The windows are gone. The clock is gone. The television is gone. Leila's gone. It's too much and my whole world goes black. The sound of a barking dog brings me back; then the sound of splintering wood and hushed voices...someone lifts me up and carries me to an ambulance with strobing lights. I am alive. I am free. I am reborn.

TWENTY YEARS LATER

"Dr. Ames!!"

The exclamation stops me in my tracks. I turn and let the elevator close, putting me in overtime.

"Hurry! Come with me! There's a tornado warning and it's the real thing. The sky is that weird greenish color!" Carrie opens the EXIT door and reaches for my hand. She always calls me Doctor in public, but, in private, she is my closest friend. We are on the third floor and I kick off my high heels. We run down the stairs at breakneck speed. Thank god someone had the foresight to build a bunker in the basement of our building. Prudent thing to do in Oklahoma, I think. A handful of staff members huddle against the back wall.

"Is everyone accounted for?" Carrie's take-charge persona is in overdrive. Everyone nods. Carrie latches the door, throws rolled up blankets at the stupefied staff and tells them to use the blanket as a shroud. "Put your cell phones on your person...in your bra or a secure pocket." For good measure, she directs the six of us under a heavy table that is anchored to the concrete floor. We wait in silence, each person left with his or her own trepidation.

A deep and constant rumbling can be heard through the reinforced door. I think of my last patient and hope she is safe. Too young to drive, I wonder how she got home...if she got home. We huddle together for almost an hour before our unofficial leader deems it safe to venture out. Like a wolf pack, we stay close to one another, seemingly 'upping' our chances of survival. Our building is intact. It takes a second for us to figure out that something is blocking the main entrance.

Carrie lets out a squeal. "What the fuck!!! That's my car!" Carrie tries to open the door, but the contrived sculpture won't budge. She heads toward the rear of the building with the rest of us in tow and we are able get out without difficulty. Downed electrical wires keep us on high alert. We stand and take in the damage. Benson's Furniture lost the big sign out front. The roof is gone off Wendy's Restaurant. Only two cars are still upright in the parking lot. Within a couple of minutes, we hear a relentless, discordant symphony of sirens. One young policeman jumps from his black and white cruiser, "You guys OK?"

Carrie responds. "As far as we can tell, we're all fine. How is it looking out there?"

"Hard to tell. Reports are coming in from all over. Listen, is one of you Dr. Angela Ames?"

Carrie looks at me. My heart leaps into my throat. Storms trigger me, especially tornados. I give the officer a nod.

"Ma'am, I was asked to bring you to the emergency command center. Seems we had a direct hit on one of the middle schools."

I shut the door on my own issues and get into work mode. I tell the officer I need Carrie, my assistant, to come with me. Windblown, barefoot, and wrapped in a blanket, I slide into the black and white cruiser. Our chauffeured drive to the command center leaves us speechless. I fight the panic that rises in my chest and squeeze Carrie's hand.

It is for times like these that I chose my profession. Child psychology is an under appreciated subspecialty in my world. I know first hand the work it takes to process abuse and tragedy at a tender age. It is a storm like this that took my whole family. It is a storm like this that gave me my life back.

Carrie senses my distress and whispers, "Angie, it will be ok. I am here. We can get through this together." I think of Leila. She used to call me Angie, too. I wipe the tears from my eyes. It is time to get to work.