“Uh uh, yes! Uh—of course! I’ll be there immediately!”
I ended the call and ran to my car. No goodbyes to Harry. Sorry buddy. I’m feeling so many emotions. What is happening today? Why is my life falling apart? I’m so happy to hear Heather is okay but I have to be there with her. T-bones are not easy collisions to just walk away from. Most are serious injuries or even death. I hope Cindy and Derrick are okay too. I don’t even know what to think. I just wanna be with my daughter. And tonight, is graduation. She’ll miss her own graduation because of idiot drivers. Casa Grande is like 20-30 minutes away, but I made the trip in about 10. I ran into the hospital with my ID out to show to the receptionist.
“I’m Cordell Hendricks. I’m here to see my daughter Heather!”
“Of course, Mr. Hendricks. Follow me.”
The receptionist pointed me to the door, and I walked in. I saw my baby girl on the bed. IVs in her arm. Breathing tubes up her nose. She was all bruised and cut up all over. My first instinct was to tackle her with a hug, but I knew I had to be gentle, so I did a little slight jog and I hugged her tight but gentle.
“Hi dad.”
“Heather. How did this happen?”
“The driver ran a red light. I had the greenest of all green lights. Next thing I know I’m being rolled in here.”
“Are you okay, honey?”
“Yes dad.”
“How are Cindy and Derrick?”
Heather started to cry, hysterically.
“Dad. Derrick didn’t make it.”
11
I remember nothing. I woke up on a gurney inside an ambulance. Okay, who am I kidding. I was hardly awake. I was just seeing glimpses like those movies that do like, little fade transitions. When we arrived at the hospital, I saw two more ambulances. Derrick was being rushed in faster than Cindy and me. I woke again to a room full of nurses and Cindy on a bed beside me. Cindy seemed to still be asleep, but I knew she was okay because of her heart monitor. And well, obviously if she wasn’t, they’d still be giving her a lot more attention. She probably wouldn’t even be in this room. Speaking of… One of the nurses saw me awake and started to speak to me.
“Hi dear. Glad to see you’re doing okay. You were pre—”
“Where’s Derrick?”
“Dear, we need to know your emergency cont—”
“Where. Is. My. Friend?”
“Dear. When you collided, the truck hit on the driver’s side. The backseat, where your friend was reportedly sitting. Your friend experienced a direct hit, full force of the truck. And was killed in the collision.”
The tears were immediate. I started to cry so much. I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. He had so much life left in him. He was my best friend. My new best friend. We were meant to spend so much more time together. He had his whole life ahead of him, including university. It’s not fair. It should’ve been me. Not him. I wanted to cry in Cindy’s arms. It made it worse that she didn’t hear it. I don’t want to be the one to tell her. It is my fault after all. If I had been paying just the slightest more attention, I could’ve prevented it. Why? Why do these things happen?
“Dear. Can you please provide us with your emergency contact?”
…
I hated seeing my little girl here. If I had just stopped being so selfish about my dispute, I could’ve taken her and her friends. I could’ve saved them. And Derrick. I held Heather while she cried. I felt awful. Derrick was an amazing kid. I wanted him to be an important part of Heather’s life for a long time. I know he would’ve taken tremendous care of her. He would’ve revived her from the depression she was feeling about all of this. He already was.
“Have you contacted Cindy or Derrick’s parents?” I asked a nurse.
“No sir. We were going to wait until she woke up to ask her.”
“I have their number. I can provide you with it. How about Derrick’s?”
“Derrick was…”
“Homeless.” A woman interrupted.
“What!” Heather screamed from behind her tears.
“I’m Doctor Olive Samuel. Derrick’s parents died while he was very young. His mother died in childbirth; I delivered Derrick. When he was 5, his father killed himself out of depression and regret with his wife not surviving. I’m surprised he made it five years with the condition he was in. I assisted in the autopsy. We sent Derrick into a foster care program that my sister ran. I was a volunteer there, so I watched Derrick grow up. He traveled between many homes. All the parents either abusing him or passing. He was convinced he was a curse and said he was leaving the program when he was a freshman in high school. He decided to live on the streets. I told him I’d be there for him. I provided him with money to survive, had him on our phone plan, offered him shelter multiple times with no luck. I gave him everything to survive every weather condition. Even staying outside during tornadoes.”
“What? Why would he—”
“He believed he deserved to be on the streets. Believed he should die. But he knew he didn’t want it to be at the hands of himself. Rather this curse he believes he has. He survived the crash. We rushed to save him. I operated on him despite being told no since I had a close relationship with him. He wasn’t making it. He looked me in the eyes and his final words were, ‘it’s lifted.’ And he passed away…”
Everyone
