Life and Angels (a true story from almost two years ago)
It's drizzling, It's cold and I'm cruising down 93 in the fast lane at about 70. The fog is thick at 3am.
It's the day after Christmas and about ten minutes ago I had been playing poker, drinking merlot and smoking a huge blunt with the boys at Matt's apartment in Boston because that is what we do.
As I round a median I feel a chill run up my spine. I push on the brakes, and I see a body of a small person wearing white on the road in my lane. I grab the emergency brake and the car fish tails a bit before coming to a full stop on the slick wet pavement. A car had flipped over and there is a body of a smal girl infront of my head lights. I call the police and they tell me that they already know about it.
There are cars all around me. Like tourist on a Disney Ride, they ride by, watching and pointing and moving along. Half of the traffice is the bar scene on its way to IHOP.
I get out of the car and run up to the girl infront of my head lights.
She's convulsing, shaking, and cold. I look at her, bend down and hold her left hand. There is blood and glass in her long brown hair. I ask her what is her name. She mumbles over and over. I tell her she's okay and that help is on the way. I run back to my trunk, remembering I have blankets back there.
The rain is starting to come down harder.
As I head back to the trunk, I see another car, an Eclispe, in the fast lane speeding around the median and right at me. The beams of light hits the wall of fog infront of it, making it seem like a fireball heading towards me and a flash of a late August day on the beach with my family runs through my head. I must have been eight.
The car manages to swerve into the next lane to avoid me. I grab the blanket and put it over the shivering girl. She can't be older then 16. That's when I noticed the other body 80 yards down, closer to the over turned car.
There are beer cans everywhere. There's a white cavalier beat up on the road, on its side.
Her blue jeans cover her mangled legs lying against the median. She's so young. I take off my coat and put it on her. Ask her if she can hear me. She can. Her lips are moving. Blood dribbles across her lips. I can't tell if it is coming from her mouth or a cut on her lip. I pull off my sweater and hold it over her head to stop the rain from hitting her face.
I turn and yell for help. Where is the ambulance!
Some more people pull up behind my car and run out with flash lights and more blankets. We become a team. Angels. We put blankets over the girls, talk to them, hold umbrellas over them. The girl in white says she's only 15 and that her stepmom lives in my town.
A state trooper arrives. He directs traffic so the ambulance and fire trucks can get there.
A fireman tells "it was lucky you were able to spot these girls and stop in this weather. Who knows what may have happened this time of night."
The rain comes down harder. I'm standing in my t-shirt, soaked and cold, thinking about the Eclispe that swerved around the Median.
A week later my buddy, Chris, calls me and he tells me there was an article in the paper about the accident. He tells me the girls survived and are okay. That there were three boys in the car who ran off into the woods after the accident. The car was stolen. They had later tunred themselves in.
"One of the girls was from Randolph," I tell him.
"Yeah, the paper says that," says Chris.
"Did you talk to anyone that night?" he asks.
"I talked to lots of people. No more then a few words. I told the trooper what happened."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What else happened?"
"Once the girls were gone in the ambulence, I asked him if he could direct traffice so I could get out and drive home."
"So you just left and went home?"
"Yep"
It's the day after Christmas and about ten minutes ago I had been playing poker, drinking merlot and smoking a huge blunt with the boys at Matt's apartment in Boston because that is what we do.
As I round a median I feel a chill run up my spine. I push on the brakes, and I see a body of a small person wearing white on the road in my lane. I grab the emergency brake and the car fish tails a bit before coming to a full stop on the slick wet pavement. A car had flipped over and there is a body of a smal girl infront of my head lights. I call the police and they tell me that they already know about it.
There are cars all around me. Like tourist on a Disney Ride, they ride by, watching and pointing and moving along. Half of the traffice is the bar scene on its way to IHOP.
I get out of the car and run up to the girl infront of my head lights.
She's convulsing, shaking, and cold. I look at her, bend down and hold her left hand. There is blood and glass in her long brown hair. I ask her what is her name. She mumbles over and over. I tell her she's okay and that help is on the way. I run back to my trunk, remembering I have blankets back there.
The rain is starting to come down harder.
As I head back to the trunk, I see another car, an Eclispe, in the fast lane speeding around the median and right at me. The beams of light hits the wall of fog infront of it, making it seem like a fireball heading towards me and a flash of a late August day on the beach with my family runs through my head. I must have been eight.
The car manages to swerve into the next lane to avoid me. I grab the blanket and put it over the shivering girl. She can't be older then 16. That's when I noticed the other body 80 yards down, closer to the over turned car.
There are beer cans everywhere. There's a white cavalier beat up on the road, on its side.
Her blue jeans cover her mangled legs lying against the median. She's so young. I take off my coat and put it on her. Ask her if she can hear me. She can. Her lips are moving. Blood dribbles across her lips. I can't tell if it is coming from her mouth or a cut on her lip. I pull off my sweater and hold it over her head to stop the rain from hitting her face.
I turn and yell for help. Where is the ambulance!
Some more people pull up behind my car and run out with flash lights and more blankets. We become a team. Angels. We put blankets over the girls, talk to them, hold umbrellas over them. The girl in white says she's only 15 and that her stepmom lives in my town.
A state trooper arrives. He directs traffic so the ambulance and fire trucks can get there.
A fireman tells "it was lucky you were able to spot these girls and stop in this weather. Who knows what may have happened this time of night."
The rain comes down harder. I'm standing in my t-shirt, soaked and cold, thinking about the Eclispe that swerved around the Median.
A week later my buddy, Chris, calls me and he tells me there was an article in the paper about the accident. He tells me the girls survived and are okay. That there were three boys in the car who ran off into the woods after the accident. The car was stolen. They had later tunred themselves in.
"One of the girls was from Randolph," I tell him.
"Yeah, the paper says that," says Chris.
"Did you talk to anyone that night?" he asks.
"I talked to lots of people. No more then a few words. I told the trooper what happened."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What else happened?"
"Once the girls were gone in the ambulence, I asked him if he could direct traffice so I could get out and drive home."
"So you just left and went home?"
"Yep"
posted by Class Officers at
11:48 PM
2 Comments:
Funny how being brave is not doing big, dramatic acts. It's little deeds like this.
Not many people would stop to help...as you can see.
I think fear keeps us back, doesn't it?
Webster's dictionary defined Brave as "Showing courage."
I don't think I was brave in this situation. It was more or less thrown in my face. Maybe more of an act of compassion.
But I think you are right GG, fear held people back. It is a strong and paralyzing emotion.
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