Car Crash Memoir

February 27, 2009
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There are a lot of cars. More than I remember. I ignore them and find Michele. Well, what I could see of her, at least. I see her pink tank top and short legs. But what I see on her face scares me more than anything.

Her eyes show total confusion, fear and overwhelming hurt, both physically and mentally. She jumps out of the car when she sees me and we sit by a broken guardrail. Because of us, I suppose.

People run up to us.

Now I feel it. Cold. The sun is shining on me, but I am cold. I'm under a blanket, but I am cold. My wrist is burning' but I am cold. People are holding me' but I am cold'


Michele. She's right next to me, rocking back and forth, back and forth' I put my arm around her but she screams. I hope I didn't hurt her.


The ambulance took us away.

'Cassy?!' is all I hear, but I choose to ignore it.

As the doctors wheel me into the hospital, I remembered. I remembered blue. A lot of blue. I remembered being kicked. Michele. She kicked me. She flew up, hit the windshield, and knocked me out on her way back.

I wonder where all the blue went'.



'Can you move your arm?'

'Huh?'

'I need to take an x-ray.'

He grabs my wrist and pulls it onto a cold board. It feels as though someone just smashed my arm in a door.

Now I'm back with Michele and she's screaming. A lot. I can't see her and I'm not sure I want to.


Everything is calm now and familiar faces fill the room. But something's wrong. No one looks happy. Or mad. They all look'sad. How many people have I hurt today? They all tell me Joson's okay, but I worry about Michele. Where is she?


After what seemed like hours, I kept hearing different stories'
'Michele just has a scratch.'

'Michele has a broken leg.'

'Michele's bone is sticking out.'

'Michele needs surgery.'

'Michele needs to stay overnight.'
My heart broke more each time I heard these less than reassuring words. The only sound that gave me hope was her cries for help.

I wonder if she knows how much I love her'



My room is much better than the hospital. But this sling bugs me. I can't believe I have to keep it on for a week! Then comes the real fun; a cast.


The phone hasn't rang yet. I wonder if Michele will be okay. I hope those yellow tears won't be the last I see of my best friend.



For the next few days, I'm bed-ridden. Voluntarily. I can't even stand to be in a car, or even look at my face. Something that was once the reason I spent hours in the bathroom. I almost lost my best friend, yet everything is carrying on with their life as if nothing happened.


I cry a lot now. I cry for myself, for Michele. I cry for people I don't even know. I cry when someone else isn't happy, or when I haven't made them happy. I cry when Joson turns his car around or stops quickly. My heart feels like a ping-pong ball every time I see a driveway.

Everyday, I took Michele for granted. Her sun-shining smile, her radiating beauty, the way her nose flares when she's confused. I've never had a friend like her and I never will have another one.




Now I barely talk to Michele. Or, when I do, there seems to be a tension between us that we can't pinpoint. I don't know if the car crash changed our friendship, or if the car crash changed me'


When we sat by the guardrail last summer, I looked down at my wrist. That's when the swelling, pain and crash all hit me. But I put my hand away and the tears that followed were from seeing those same green eyes of confusion I saw moments before.

I hoped I'd never see those eyes again. But now when I cry, it's because I can't look into them.





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