Car Crash

24 years and counting

It had been 24 years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. Me and her strolled quietly through our parent’s house. They had died of a car crash the 24 years before, when I was 4 and Mandy (Amanda) was 5. Until now, we have been taken care of by our grandparents, but they both died a peaceful death last year, and I personally think we are too young to be left alone. Amanda pulled me close and told me they went to join Mom and Dad as I muttered this to her, like I was 5. I wasn’t 5. No, I am 28, and my sister is 29. I suggest we go to the garden, and she agrees. She reaches the door before me, and when I go outside, she’s gone. I panic and text her, but she tells me to calm down; apparently her ex-boyfriend had taken her to go to a nice place. I am unsure about how I hear this, but I eventually relax and shrug. But wasn’t it weird that her ex had taken her out? 

I send her another text to ask that question. But she doesn’t reply. I calm myself and think that they have already entered the place. 

Later on, I got a horrific call. A call so shocking I might as well go and faint. It was from the hospital, and they said that she was in a car crash. I clutch my heart and I quickly ask if I could visit her. But they wouldn’t permit me.

A week later

I gazed over to the window, my eyes trying to linger through the cracks of the closed blindfolds. I sighed. No use, really; but I was desperate for a sign...a sign that she’d recover again, but now I wasn’t so sure. What could be so important that they had to close the blinds? I stood up from my seat and headed out the door, back to my car. I’d come back later to visit. But right now I was tired from pulling an all-nighter till late morning just in case something happened...to her.

A call

I jolted awake by the buzzing of my phone and put myself in an upright position. My fingers answer faster than lightning. I’m still sleepy so I forget to ask who it is. But no need for it anyways. It’s the hospital. I’m ready just in case they announce something dreadful.

I just got off. Good and bad news. Bad news: She has to stay in the hospital for another week or so. Good news: She’s finally recovering from the crash, although she still has a few major and minor cuts and burns all over, plus some broken bones. But who cares? She’s getting better, for god’s sake. Who cares about a few injuries when you’re on the road to making a full recovery? I think it over, and it does sound pretty bad.

I got another call at noon. I had to rush back to the hospital. But it wasn’t for a bad cause. It was for a good cause, an overwhelming one! I can finally visit her.

Visiting 

I sit beside her, after a plain “how’s it goin’”. She turns her head, and a bunch of tears trickle down her face. Her dry lips shape my name. I can’t tell if they’re sad or happy tears, due to her injured face. So I asked her. She smiles her old smile and laughs her old laugh. “Happy,” she replies. This melts my heart. This is the same best friend who had to cope through many things...her parents dying, her boyfriend leaving her, and her ex-boyfriend attempting to kill both of them in a car crash. Yet, she’s still happy. She exchanges a sad smile and nods like she can read my mind. I hug her and tell her it’s okay. I ask her if she wants anything, but she shakes her head and whispers into my ear: “I only want you.” 

This time, tears are barely hanging onto my chin. I hug her even tighter than the last hug. She hugs back. I release her and I flop down on the chair beside her, exhausted.

A few weeks later

Fast-forward to a few weeks later. I got a call from the hospital. They said that she has fully recovered and can come back home now. I, of course, am emotional, so I started sobbing in joy. The nurse who’s on the phone just gives a soft chuckle. I ask her if my friend will need fresh clothes from home. She says yes. A few questions later, I say bye and hang up. I’m already dressed because of my frequent visits to the hospital. I just straighten my hair, put some perfume on, and wear my jacket. I then go to her room and pack her some clothes. Now I am ready to go.

When I went to the front desk, I asked for the patient named Amanda Clark. The receptionist tells me that she has been transported to a different ward. Of course, I knew that beforehand. But before I could turn and leave, the receptionist stopped me. He asks me my relation to the patient, and my name. I say that I am her younger sister by a year and a half and I answer by the name of Jesse or Jessica Clark. He lets me go, and I hurry to her ward.

My older sister is sitting on a wheelchair, grinning from ear-to-ear. I embrace her, and hand over the bag with clothes. She is dressed by the help of a nurse. I take Amanda’s wheelchair and roll it over to the exit. I tell her “Ready to leave this place?” and she replies “More ready than ever,”

And so we excitedly rolled out of the hospital exit and into the car as fast as we could.

Of course, this took some time. She was older than me so I couldn’t possibly just carry her to the backseat with ease. We did it in the end. I made sure that she had buckled her seatbelt. I folded her wheelchair and put it in the back.

We hit the road, and minutes later, pulled up to the police station. I needed Mandy as well, as we were going to file a report against her ex-boyfriend, Jeff Mason. So again, I had to get her wheelchair from the back and unfold it. Next, I had to carry her and put her in the wheelchair. After this, I rolled her up the police station’s wheelchair ramp. We went to the chief and explained our situation. He listened and gave us a bunch of papers to fill out and sign.

When he finishes, he asks Amanda if she's okay. She smiles, and the chief takes that as a yes.

Her health was beginning to get better again and that was all that mattered.