That Time I Went to Grab Coffee

Okay, both girls are fastened securely in their carseats. The diaper bag is in the car, and we are only a few minutes late leaving. Not bad, not bad at all, considering The Celtic Cup was only seven minutes from our house. We should be there by 5:45 at the latest. I will just text Mom and let her know that we would be a few minutes late for coffee. 

I dug and dug in the diaper bag and my purse – no phone. I looked under the bags in the passenger seat – no phone. Okay, guess she will just see us when she sees us because I have no way to contact her. Besides, I am just meeting for coffee then back home in an hour. Not having my phone will not really matter. I mean, how many years did people live successfully without constant access to a phone? I was discussing this out loud with my daughters in the backseat as if they could understand or, better yet, respond. They simply cooed and slobbered in response to my statements. 

“We should be there in about five minutes anyway.” I continued to include them in our pretend dialogue. I drove all of the neighborhood streets in order to avoid traffic until I absolutely had to drive on the main roads. I mean, I wasn’t going to be too late but didn’t want to be rudely late, so I tried to take the most direct route possible. Luckily, the traffic lights all seemed to read my anxiety and changed right as my car reached them, so we could keep a steady speed to the cafe. 

I am only one railroad crossing and another traffic light away from enjoying a white chocolate mocha. Okay, no problems at the crossing, so almost there.

What is this lady doing? I need to be in the inside lane, but she is driving really slowly. I think I will accelerate a tad more to get around her.

Wait, what is she looking at? Why is she slowing down more? 

Whatever it is, I’m gonna hit it. Immediately, I remember Dad saying that most injuries happen because people tend to tense their muscles, so I need to relax as much as possible. But my kids! I have no way to really prepare them for this. How can I have the least impact to keep them safe? How can I prevent doing too much damage with my car?

As I relaxed my muscles, I turned my steering wheel to the right a tiny bit in order to control the direction that my car would go once it hits whatever is coming. Plus, hitting it with the corner of my car instead of the entire front would definitely be less impactful: “Girls, there is something coming that we may hit, but we will be o….” 

BAM! A silver two-door Toyota appears out of nowhere. The left front headlight hit the Toyota on the passenger side, causing it to run onto the side road and completing a 180-degree turn into a local parking lot before it died. My car spun to the right but died on the outside lane of the road we were driving. 

I turned to see the terror-stricken face of my two-year-old staring at me, waiting for me to help her understand what had just happened and how to react. I smiled and told her in a soothing voice that it was fine, that we were okay. 

“Amethyst? You okay, baby?” 

I could not hear any noise coming from the car seat directly behind my driver’s seat. I could raise my hand and feel her forehead, but she was not making any noise. I immediately unfastened my seatbelt and moved my body to climb out like I always did. 

“Ouch! Ow, ow, ow, ow, owwwwwww! Help me!”

I fell back into the driver’s seat in excruciating pain. My chest felt heavy and tight. That’s when I noticed my knee was bleeding. 

“Help!”

Then I heard Aubyrne’s reaction. She finally figured out her response after she heard my screaming in pain. She was screaming and crying. Her reaction caused a domino effect, so now I knew Amethyst was okay because she started crying.

“Please help me! I have children!”

What were all these people doing? Do they not hear me? Can they not see me? My kids…

“Hellllllllp!”

As I look around for someone to help the kids, I smell something like the cap guns that my brother and I had used in our pretend good-guy-vs-bad-guy fights in our front yard. What in the world? Oh, the front airbags had deployed from the impact. Whew, they stink. 

“Can anyone help me, please?!”

How long does it take for someone to come help us? Honestly, we’ve been sitting here forever. 

Oh, a car just stopped. Is he helping?

“Ma’am, you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, but my kids. I can’t tell if they are okay,” I replied.

“Are you okay with my wife removing them from their seats? They look okay.”

“Yes, please. Can you call my mom? I don't know where my phone is. We were meeting her for coffee. She’s at the Celtic Cup.” 

“Sure, sure. What’s her number?”

I took a breath and rattled it off to him. He reached her on the phone and explained the situation. Suddenly, I had a sick feeling overwhelm me: What if his wife took this opportunity to kidnap my girls? 

“Sir, sir, could you have your wife hold my girls in front of my car so I can see them? Please?”

“Sure, ma’am. Evelyn, move to the front of her car so she can see her babies. Now, ma’am, we need to hold your neck still in case you have a neck injury.”

Okay, I mean I already moved my entire upper body before anyone came to help, but yes, let’s hold my neck still just in case. As soon as he gently placed his hands on my head, I could see the damage on my car. My front was smoking. The hood was open and smoke billowing out. The limp airbags were hanging from the dashboard that was literally two inches from my body.

While he held my head still, I looked through the space between the hood and my dash, so I could see my babies. His wife is doing her best to calm them down, but they are not having it. Oh, good, there’s mom. I chuckle at her petite body trying to carry both kids at the same time. Okay, the girls are safe.

Man, my chest is killing me. I hope I’m not having a heart attack. It hurts really badly, and I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. 

Are those sirens? Sounds like there are a ton. Why are there so many for such a small wreck? I felt aches throughout my entire body. The man’s hands slipped away from my head.

A different voice spoke, “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“Betsy.”

“Mrs. Betsy, where does it hurt?”

“My chest is killing me. Everywhere else aches.”

“How does your knee feel? Can you bend it?”

“No, I can’t bend it. It hurts just like everywhere else, but my chest hurts more. Are you sure I’m not having a heart attack?”

“Yes, I’m sure. That’s just the adrenaline.” He continued to take vitals while talking to me, but I could only concentrate on my chest. The pain was almost unbearable. “Mrs. Betsy, we are having trouble getting you out of the car.”

“That’s because my seat pumps up. You just need to pump it back down.”

“Yes, ma’am, we already tried that. We will need to bend your knee over the gear shift in order to get you out.”

“Nope, I will just wait until you get the jaws of life.”

“Ma’am, we don’t have the jaws of life, and we don’t have time to wait for them. So, I need you to take a deep breath when I count to three.”

“No, no, please no.” 

Then, I heard my dad’s voice, “Sweetheart, we need to do this. I am here to help.”

“Okay.”

The EMT counts: “1…2…3.”

Deep breath in, then I exhale, “Oh, SHIT! Owwww!”

A group of men slide me onto the gurney as I profusely apologize to my dad for cursing.

He whispers, “It’s okay, baby. We won’t tell your mom.”

I giggle through the pain: “How are the girls?”

“Momma has them. The EMTs looked them over and said they only had a small bruise where their car-seat belts held their chests.”

“Okay. They’re okay.”

“Yes, they’re fine. We will take them with us tonight.”

“Okay, thank you.”

All I can see is the dark October sky now as I lay flat on the gurney. Then it changes to the roof of the ambulance as the EMTs slide me inside head first. 

The EMT inside the ambulance started taking my vitals again: “Your blood pressure is still pretty high, but that will come down as you calm down.”

"Mm-hmm." I eye him carefully, his dark hair and dark eyes... something seems off.

“You're not Michael Myers, are you?"

He almost looked offended: "No, I'm not. I'm here to help you, not hurt you."

Distrusting him, I kept a close eye on every move he made. After a few minutes, I asked for reassurance: "Are you sure you’re not Michael Myers?”

“I'm sure. Everything you are feeling is the adrenaline. That’s all.”

“Hmmm, I just know that Michael Myers killed someone in the back of an ambulance in Halloween 2. And here I am, in the back of an ambulance, strapped to this gurney, with a strange man and sharp utensils.”

“Ma’am, I promise, you will be at the hospital in a few minutes, with only your wreck injuries. Nothing else.”

“I will believe it when I get there.”

He chuckled, “You need to calm down. Your blood pressure is starting to rise. I promise I will get you to the hospital.”

What could I do? I was defenseless while strapped to this gurney. All I could do was trust him. Hopefully, I will see the hospital and my girls again. Trying to pull myself together: “Sir, what time is it?”

“It’s 6pm.”

“What?! How long has it been since I wrecked?”

“We received the call around 5:45, which means it took us about fifteen minutes to respond.”

“Are you kidding? It feels like I was stuck in that car for over an hour.”

“No, ma’am, it only took fifteen minutes from the time we got the call to the time we placed you in here.”

“I guess time flies when you’re having fun… or not.”

Now, let’s see if I make it to the hospital without getting stabbed by Mr. I’m-Not-Michael-Myers over here.