I knew his car was going to hit mine about two seconds too late. Two seconds did squat. Perfect right?
Reflexes are for contemplation, not for use in the actual moment of need. Or at least that's what I found out last night.
Had just gotten off work, good shift, the boss man made me laugh. Had Wendy's sea salt fries, was helpful to customers. Found Twilight's third book for a lady that was going to give it to her son, not sure if I'm overly proud of that fact. But I was useful, see. I was adult, right? I did things on my own!
Left turn, signaled, two cars behind me went right around me, no trouble.
Rear view mirrors are the same as reflexes, too little too late. He hit me, going about 40mph, and it felt pitiful weak in comparison to the damage both of our cars sustained. Like bumper cars except I felt like crying and screaming less than complementary stuff and flexing my fingers till glass shards popped out the knuckles. And then beating his careless self.
It hurt. I got out of the car, rubber legs, breath coming in short gasps rather than ones that would actually keep the oxygen in my lungs. I wish I hadn't skipped lunch....and dinner, I wish I hadn't had pop for breakfast.
Was it raining? Of course. Was it bitter cold, you know it. Are there tiny violins prancing around my head as I type? A plethora of them.
"This blows." He grunted, hands on head. He squatted down by his mangled car. It dripped clear fluid like a fresh wound bleeds red. It died a quick and hopefully painless death. I am guilt free because I didn't try to drive it under another person's car, mainly mine. He them proceeded to try to pull the hood of his car off his steaming engine.
I know nothing about cars but I should've said, "Hey bud! Quick questions for ya! If you managed to knock out all the dents in your car would that fix your problems? Lemme answer that for you, NO. YOU TRASHED YOUR CAR! IT IS DEADER THEN MY HOPES OF EVER OWNING A PONY ARE!"
But I agreed with his "This blows." comment.
"Yes," I murmured cleverly, "Yes it does."
He apologized, then apologized again. And I agreed with him once more, "Yes. Yes you are."
WHAT AN AGREEABLE PAIR WE ARE!
Fortunatly an emergency vehicle flashed up and parked in back of us, I walked unsteadily over to him and weakly smiled.
"Hi there." GAH SO CLEVER AND WITTY JANELLE. so witty.
"You want me to call the police?" He asked, his eyes were kindly brown. But I acted tough, sniffled a tad and then nodded in thanks, "That would be great."
He smiled slightly and started to dial.
I walked back over to my car.
"You ok?" The guy asked me tentatively.
I did my best to keep my laughter 'crazy' free. Did my darnedest. "Yeah. Great. You?"
Keepin it pleasent till the bobbies show up. Nice.
They finally did, I was grateful, I don't know of anyone who enjoys making small talk to the guy who just trashed you parent's car, myself included.
So I sat in my car, and gave the police my sorry tale of woe, and swallowed back tears as Hannah distracted me with amusing antidotes.
Click, click, click. Went the emergency lights.
"The only 'B' I ever got at Harper was from that guy!" Hannah chirped, she was leaning close to me, not touching, but reassuring none the less. "He went on strike!" She laughed.
Hannah has greeny blue eyes and they are quite comforting. Hannah is my panther sister. Hannah is my 'every thing will be ok sister' kind of sister. Hannah was a good person to have called.
Drive the car home, burning rubber.
I can still remember the sight, I should probably try to forget. But it was one of those searing moments. the ones that your like 'Oh, never going to forget this!'
Remembering what a egg I am. Fragile, prone to crack. Easily strewn out on blacktop.
If I had my wheels turned I would've been pushed right onto Northwest Highway. 5:00.
God is good. The ending to all stories. God is always good.
