Thank you for the Happiest Days

Boom! Boom! BOOM! That is all I hear. And then my greatest fear comes true. Three bullets come crashing through the glass. I duck, but by the time I do, the bullets have gone through the other seat. I scream. My boyfriend is barely alive. Thank god the seat cushioned the blow. How has my country been so safe and lovely to live in, yet I get treated like a second-class citizen. I get shot at in the car because I am black. I keep screaming. People call ambulances, and somebody gets me out of the car. I have stopped screaming. They try to put me in a different ambulance but I fight them and get into the ambulance. I push, and people are arguing with me. But it doesn't matter. I am going to stay by his side. There could still be a chance that he survives.

And like that, I'm flashed back to reality and see my boyfriend sleeping. Luckily, after extensive surgery, the doctors were able to keep him alive. Well, you might be wondering what put me in this situation. Well, I'm African American, like my boyfriend. Living in Alabama. And for the most part, life is calm. It is 1978, and people should have moved on from segregation. When I was just born, Jim Crow laws were abolished. But even though we are desegregated, we still face racial problems in society. You would have thought people could have moved on, but apparently not. Well, most people have moved on. A person with three bullets has yet to move on. Unfortunately, one of those bullets had to hit my boyfriend. We were just going for a drive.

We were driving to our favorite diner in the area. We were listening to some light music and then we heard three loud booms. And then the shattering of glass. Then the noise that hit the chair. Over the past three days, the memory has played and played in my head. My boyfriend, Robert, has woken up once every few hours or so to get some water or food. He cannot say much, but we have told him what happened, where he is, and other basic things like the time. The doctors say he will be fine, but he will be in the hospital for a while anyway. Then he will be in a wheelchair, and finally, he will go to physical therapy to learn to walk again. He would never be the same again. His ability to have children was now tiny, and driving might be in the cards again in ten years.

Five days later, he was able to sit upright in his bed and talk to us. A lawyer came. He said that he was going to take our side of the story. I told him the events as I recalled them. Of course, I see the picture, of ducking and the person hauling me out of the car. Coming to the hospital, where I have stayed since a few days ago. Our lawyer said that the judge could be fair, and see past the fact we are black, or the judge could see that and not be fair. It was fifty-fifty. Because so many people in Alabama dislike colored people like us, we thought the chances were quite good that the judge could say that the case was in favor of the person who shot the gun. Not us, who the bullet punctured. I sat by my boyfriend idly. A week passed. The doctors said a day more of observation and then he could leave. We were thrilled.

But on the last day, the person who shot the gun's mother came into his hospital room. She told us their side of the story, and what she thought of it. She seemed nice, and my boyfriend allowed her to say. She explained to us that the person behind the wheel was an underage driver. They were still learning. The person who shot the gun was drunk. They were drinking while shooting the gun. They thought they were shooting the other way, but because they were drunk, they found out that they pointed it forward at our car. As it turns out, they were not racist as we believed them to be, even though they were white. She was crying by the time she was done with her story. I felt a bit sorry for her. I no longer wanted to bring a court into this mess.

"My son has always struggled with addiction issues. He has gone to support groups and church. We make him live with us and try to track him as best as we can. But we decided to let him out with his little friend, who at the time seemed responsible. But I guess they weren't. I'm so sorry, I will pay for all the damage. My husband is quite rich, so whatever you all need, I can provide." She sobbed.

"Please, just show my son mercy. I love him with all my heart and I have scolded him. But if you take this to court, we could have our son taken away from us. To jail. He wouldn't make it in there. Please, we'll do everything, anything! Please!" I looked at my boyfriend. He looked at me. I went to her side and comforted her. I couldn't begin to imagine what that would be like.

I whisper into her ear, "Your son has done a terrible thing, but we are going to forgive him. We will not take this to court. However, if you would please pay the medical bill, that would be a huge help. We know his life will never be the same. But the hospital has kept him alive." She sobs even harder than before. She looks up, looking relieved. I hug her. My boyfriend hugged her. And she wept a tiny bit more after that. But then she nodded. She thanked us and praised us. And then she left. Once she left, we knew we had made the right decision. We could pay for the car, but the hospital would be way too much. We would have to sell every single one of our possessions to maybe get one chance at the half. So this was a big relief for us. And our lives may never be the same again. But life would definitely take us on more adventures.