Moment of Impact

I feel like I’m burning. Like a hot flash, but more. Like pain, but like nothing I have ever felt before. My eyes open, I’m sure. There is blood, I think. There is sweat, and smoke, and I can’t see much of anything at all. The thump of my heart is beating in my ears, louder than it should be. I am more conscious of it than I have ever been before. I try to take my first full, intentional breath since consciousness, but I can’t and it hurts, and I’m coughing, and it hurts. Looking down, I see that it is my seat belt that is pressing against my neck. It’s the only thing holding me in my seat.

       “Nicole! Nicole!”

       There’s a gallon of milk spilling out onto the floor. Only, it’s not the floor, but the ceiling. The car is upside down. I’m upside down. No one has cleaned it up. I try to reach out with my hand (to do what, I don’t know), but the signal is lost, and my arm does not move. Henry knows how much I hate messes, especially in my car. He knows how much time we spent going grocery shopping and how much time I spent arguing with him to let me drive. The food that we bought is now spread out and destroyed all over the floor. Where is he? Why is he not here, with me?

      “Sir, please. Back away from the car. My name is Jonathan, and I am with the local fire department. We are going to get her out, but we need you safe as well. Please back away from the car.”

       I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and it burns. The heat from the flames licks at my face, and scratches at my chest. There is a hand on my shoulder. There are words, and screams, and sirens, and the cracking of metal, and I can’t really see, and I can’t really breathe. Between one heartbeat and the next, I’m falling forward into strong hands and strong arms. Something is put around my neck, and I’m being turned, and moved, and pulled out.

    I feel like I’m burning. One blink. The world has faded and returned, and I can see the sky now. It’s so blue when it’s not viewed through a cracked and shattered windshield and a black film of smoke. So blue that it cannot be the same sky that I went grocery shopping under a lifetime ago.

   It is not so hard to breathe now. One breath. In and out. The sun is blocked. There is a body above mine, blocking the sun, blocking the sky. There is a burst of heat and fire. I wonder if Henry knows how long it takes for fire to burn through an engine. How long it takes for it to consume a car and everything in it.   

       “Ma’am, can you hear me?”  

      Gentle hands prod around my body. My entire body hurts. I want to tell them not to touch my arm, or my leg, or my chest. Contained within is heat and fire and it burns.

      “Severe burns on the arm and leg. Probable concussion and head injury. We need to get her to the hospital now.”

      “Nicole!”

    He’s far away, but he is there, and I can finally comprehend his voice above the other words, and sirens, and screams, and fire.

      “Nicole, can you hear me? I am here. I am okay.”

      “Hey, man. My name is Brian, what’s your name.”

    Deep, ragged breaths. “Henry. And she’s Nicole. Is she alright?! I can’t believe this is happening. It was only a second ago that we were driving home from the grocery store, and then that guy ran the red light and, and – ”

     “It’s okay, Henry. We’re getting Nicole on the stretcher now, and we’re going to get her to the hospital. Has someone taken a look at you?”

    One. Two. Three. The movement makes my head spin, and my stomach flip, and my arm scream. Or maybe that is my mouth, screaming. A few more words, a moment, a breath later, and I can only see the rolling sky above me as I’m finally taken away.

    The panic is instant. I want to speak. To move. To struggle. But there’s a band around my head and mask over my mouth that makes it easier to breathe, but harder to speak. I have no control over what’s happening at all. Where am I going? What about my stuff? What about my car? What about Henry?

    “Nicole, it’s okay, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

They must have finally let him through. Who knows how long he has had to stand there. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. There’s a weight on my ankle that I know is his hand. I have known the touch of his palm since I was eighteen, and I will know it until I breathe my last. He’s right there for the second, the year, the time is takes from one pained moan to the next. He’s right there, until he’s not, and Henry is gone, and I can’t see him.

“Hey, wait!”

“Henry, we are taking your wife to Memorial Hospital. There is a second ambulance on the way that will take you there, so you can get looked at as well.”

A second. A breath.

“Jonathan right here is going to stay with you until the second ambulance gets here. It’s just around the corner.”

“Just tell me, please. Will she be all right?”

He’s crying. I know it. I know it even as I am lifted up on the stretcher and rolled into the ambulance and can no longer see him. Can no longer feel him. How long has it been since he let go? It feels like it’s been a lifetime.

“It’s only been a few minutes since the moment of impact,” the paramedic says as he begins to close the ambulance doors, “We got here just in time.”