And I was so numb that I let my attention wander even while driving. Me, the sworn perfect driver, who shouted at any driver even half not paying attention to the road!
I shot right into an intersection without slowing down, only noticing the red light in the last split second. I didn’t even have time to reach for the break before my car hit a turning sedan. Tires screeched and metal scraped against metal. The deafening bang finally pulled me out of my trance.
I’d caused an accident! What if something had happened to the other driver? I should have been protecting people, not endangering them with my own absentmindedness!
My heart raced when I climbed out of the car and hurried over to the other car. A middle-aged lady was clutching the wheel, staring ahead, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She didn’t give any signs that she could see me standing next to her, nor did she react when I tapped her window. I took the initiative and opened her door.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” I ranted, my voice shaky and unnaturally high. “I… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry!”
The statue in front of me finally moved. She put her right hand on her chest and looked at me. She struggled to breathe and shook as she said: “I’m ok… I think. It’s just shock.”
I started to notice the chaos happening outside the perimeter of our two cars. Hazard lights, staring faces, an almost entirely blocked intersection with our demolished cars in the middle. I hid my face in my hands, giving myself a moment to gather my senses. What on earth have I done?
I was dying, but that didn’t mean the planet would stop turning; life would go on without me. I should have been doing the exact opposite of what I was doing now! How could I be so selfish, ignoring my family, and even causing havoc in the lives of others? Wake up, Connie! I told myself sternly, and felt something inside me break.
I had half a year of life and I was wasting it!
“I was driving right behind you,” a male voice said next to me. “I saw it all. Can I help with anything?”
I turned to face the owner of the voice. He was tall with broad shoulders. The sun was shining behind him and for a moment I thought he looked just like Phil. But it was only an illusion. As soon as he moved and his face caught more light, it was clear that the only resemblance with Ruby’s father was his height and blond hair.
All I could say was: “Call the police.”
I cleared my throat and watched the lady from the other car slowly get out. How many times have I answered the phone at work, hearing a shaken report of a car accident followed by the familiar: I don’t know what to do! Now I could appreciate firsthand what shock can do to one’s mind.
I knew our police station phone number by heart, so I gave it to the man who was apparently going to be our witness. I kept apologizing to the other driver, ignoring her magnanimous, “It was just an accident.” When two policemen from my station arrived, I bowed my head humbly and, mortally embarrassed, explained the events of the last thirty minutes, including confessing that it was my fault.
“Connie,” one of the uniformed men took me aside. We didn’t know each other very well and I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name. “You know I have to ask. Have you been drinking?”
After breath tests, negative in both cases, we put together a report. In the meantime, the lady had calmed down enough that she could drive home in her own car. My car was, on my request, parked right around the corner at the nearest shop by one of the policemen. I didn’t feel up to driving and decided I’d rather walk the few kilometres back home.
The only remains of the accident were some broken glass and my resolution that from now on, I wouldn’t be surviving, but living.
I left the incriminating place with a sigh of relief and took the shortest route home. Less than two minutes later, a car screeched to a halt next to me. For a second I was worried that perhaps one of my friends had seen the incident and my lack of judgement and decided to step in. Have an intervention.
I was wrong, though. The person in the driver’s seat was that tall young man unlucky enough to have been driving right behind me.
“You’re still here?” I blurted out and immediately felt heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually this rude.”
He smiled cordially. “I get it. It’s the shock. You don’t have to apologize.”
It would have been better if everyone wasn’t all so gracious about it. I felt like I deserved outrage, or even rage.
I raised my eyebrows and waited to see what the man was going to say. After all it was him who’d stopped the car…
“I was wondering,” he spurted, “if you’d like me to drive you home. I noticed you left your car there.” He gestured behind his back.
“Yeah, actually,” I answered, surprising myself a bit. I didn’t accept this very same offer from the police team because I felt humiliated. But my legs were all weak and shaky, and also… I didn’t know this man and after today I won’t ever have to see him again. Why should I decline? He seemed harmless and willingly stayed behind to help after the accident. Besides, wasn’t it sometimes easier talking to strangers rather than people you know?
His mouth immediately stretched into a pleased smile. Was he
