Alive

It happened so quickly.

Chappell Roan playing on the car radio, me smiling and belting out the lyrics, just a few blocks away from my acupuncturist’s, where I couldn’t wait to update her on my progress. I cruised through the intersection, saw the car across from me signal to go left, then saw it coming closer as it turned instead of yielding for me.

It was too close.

I knew it was going to happen before it happened.

No! I remember thinking as I tried to switch my foot to the brake pedal.

But it all just happened so quickly.

The impact, my body bracing, the loud smack of our cars as their noses hit, the way the collision shook everything inside of me.

The cars stopped. I lifted my head.

I was alive. I was okay.

I could see the damage through my window. Both front ends smashed in. The other driver’s airbags deployed.

Shit. SHIT.

The first thought I had was that I’d destroyed Patrick’s car. He’s gonna kill me.

The other driver was a girl, young, redheaded. She was on the phone. Where was my phone? I saw it on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat, next to my sunglasses which must have flown off my face with the impact. I unbuckled my seatbelt, leaned down to grab it—ow, that hurts—and then grabbed the door handle. The door was stuck. I wedged it open enough to climb out.

I stood, shaky, on the cement. My chest and back were tight.

I called Patrick.

“Hey love.”

“Hi. I got into a car accident, I’m so sorry, it’s bad. I ruined your car.”

“Are you okay??”

“Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry about that now. Is the other driver okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’s on the phone in the driver’s seat.”

“Okay.”

I told him where I was so he could uber to me and then called 911. The policeman who picked up asked me a lot of different questions.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, my chest and back feel really tight.”

“Would you like us to send the fire department and paramedics to examine you?”

“Yes? I think that’s probably best.”

“Did your airbags deploy?“

I looked around. What the heck? “No.”

“Was anyone thrown from the vehicle?”

“No.”

“Are there any other passengers in your vehicle or the other vehicle?”

“No, just me and the other driver.”

“Can you see any visible signs of injury or blood?”

I finally got her to give me a thumbs up. “No, I think she’s okay.”

“Until the paramedics arrive, please move to a safe location away from any oncoming traffic. Do not drink or eat anything until they arrive as it might make you sick. Help will be there shortly.”

While I was on the phone, an older black man who was on the corner had come to the scene to check if we were okay. I gave him a thumbs up while he checked on the other driver and helped her out of her car. As soon as she got out and I was off the phone, I moved towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” she spit out between sobs, her face red and blotchy.

“Don’t worry,” I told her, hugging her. “They’re just cars. We are both okay, we’re both alive. That’s what matters. I’ve called 911 and told them to send the paramedics.”

“Me too,” she said.

The man, Avery, helped walk us to the corner while we waited for the paramedics. He focused on calming her down. She called her parents.

The paramedics arrived soon after and checked both of us out. They told me the chest pain I was feeling was from the seatbelt whiplash, and that if I was up and walking around, I most likely didn’t need to go to the hospital.

Thunder rumbled and it started to rain. I asked the paramedics to help me get my umbrella and a couple other things from the car, as it would need to be towed since I couldn’t drive it.

Her parents arrived soon after. Both very apologetic with me, as it was clear their daughter was at fault. She went to sit in the passenger seat of her parents’ car and I realized then that she was younger than I’d thought. Only 17.

When Patrick finally got there, he held me in a long hug, careful not to squeeze too tight where I was sore.

We waited for the police officer to come and make her report, and then for the tow truck to arrive and take our cars away.

I somehow managed not to cry until we were walking away from it all.

And that’s it, really, what I need to keep telling myself when the thoughts turn to the crash and the guilt and the fear of what could have happened and the strange confusion of what had: I walked away. I got to walk away. We both did.

I am alive.

Thank you, universe, I am alive.