Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 157

You guys,

My daughter and I were in a car accident. 

We’re okay. 

Our Kia Telluride, on the other hand, was not.

The moment before we crashed, a surprisingly lot of thoughts went through my head. 

First my brain screamed, “Wrong wrong wrong.” The way I thought the world was supposed to work had stopped working. 

I was driving 45 mph in the left lane down Market Street. I hate Market Street. Four lanes, no median, constant construction and traffic. Accidents daily. If I could avoid the road I would, but it’s the only route to the kids’ school. 

The woman driving the other car was making a left turn on the busy road. You need to cross two lanes to make the turn. It’s not a fun turn to make. I know, because I’ve made the left turn plenty of times. 

I can’t speak for the other driver, but my guess is she looked left, didn’t see any cars coming, then looked right. She looked right for a little too long, and by the time it was clear, she didn’t look left again. She went, and she never saw me coming. 

She crossed in front me. The last thing I saw was the left profile of her face. An older woman. Grandmotherly, although if she knew I described her as grandmotherly she might be offended. Her car was perpendicular to mine. And we were so close to each other. Too close for my brain to process. 

The second thing I thought was, I need to stop this from happening. My insides pleaded. How can I stop this??

And the third thing I thought was, Oh my god I’m going to crash. And I was really fucking scared.

You know when you’re having a bad dream, and you’re falling off a cliff, and you wake up and gasp for air? 

That’s what it felt like. Except instead of waking up, I crashed. 

RIP, Kia.

Once my car stopped, a lot of things happened in quick succession, although I’m blurry on the order. 

Quick body scan from head to toe. Am I in one piece? I answered yes. 

Layla cried out once. I swiveled my head and asked her if she was okay. We made eye contact in the baby mirror. She stared at me with her big, brown 1-year-old eyes and didn’t cry again. She seemed okay. 

Put the car in park. 

Called Sam. Before he said hello I was gasping out, “I was in an accident. It’s bad. We’re OK, I think. But it’s bad. Oh my God. ” I couldn’t catch my breath. 

I don’t envy Sam being on the receiving end of that call. He kept asking where I was, and all I could say was Market Street. 

I looked down at the deflated airbags all around me and thought, The airbags didn’t work.

They obviously did, but I never saw them. It happened too quick. The smell coming from them was strong and chemically.

I looked out my driver’s side window and saw a car drive by. I thought, I can’t believe that car just drove by and left us here. And right after that I thought, I probably would have done the same thing. 

I saw the woman’s car idling across the road. And a man, a bystander who looked like he worked in construction, in some sort of vest-shirt, stood on the side of the road. We made eye contact and he asked me if I was okay.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

He came closer and I urgently told him, “My daughter’s in the back.”

The man was calm with a very kind face and I was so grateful he was there. I think he opened my door.

Sam asked, again, where I was. I scanned my surroundings. I was across from the Ace Hardware store. 

The man asked if I wanted him to get Layla and I said yes. 

He went around to the other side of the car and gently grabbed Layla out of her carseat and brought her over to the driver side door. And Layla was there, in his arms, staring wide-eyed at me. She didn’t cry, even in a stranger’s arms. 

I reached out and touched her arm. She was okay.

The kind man bounced her gently and stayed very close to me. He told me he had kids, too. 

Sam appeared, running across the street. He took Layla in his arms, 

and I 

started sobbing.

I was escorted into an ambulance where the EMT checked my vitals. They looked good. She told me that in the next few days, I should expect to feel like I got hit by a truck. I thought this was a funny thing to say since I was clearly hit by a small SUV. 

We exited the ambulance and saw the other driver taken away on a stretcher. Possible broken leg. 

The kind man was still there. I thanked him profusely. He said he would have done it for anyone. 

Sam held Layla and we stood on the side of the road, the three of us together. We were safe. It was so scary. But we were okay. 

We’re okay.

—

Until next week,

Charlie