I keep thinking about how everything went quiet. The movies have it right, you know? When they slow down the action and everything except for a distant ringing? That was how it felt. I was merely a shell of my consciousness, unsure if my body was intact. Everything was a faint ringing and the haunting smell of smoke. When time started to flow normally again, I opened my eyes. Everything was hot and my body didn’t feel real.
“Cali! Cali, are you OK?”
I was brought to life by my boyfriend calling my name from the passenger seat. Oh my God. We were both alive. I think I nodded, trying to indicate that I was OK. There was so much adrenaline pumping through me that I couldn’t feel much at all. I blinked and suddenly I was out of the car, tears streaming down my face. I felt a panic rising up through me, one that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Life had been good. Everything was fine, and I was enjoying the fresh start that January brought forth. Until the crash, where I went through a green light, and someone pulled in front of me. My foot pushed the brakes to the very bottom, but it was too late.
My boyfriend ran to me, giving me a tight hug. I still could barely move, and I was beginning to have a panic attack. I glanced at my car and saw that my beloved Great White was totaled. The harsh reality of the loss hit me all at once. I cried harder as I realized that I had lost a big facet of my independence. My boyfriend quickly dialed 911 as my panic spilled out of me through the tears that splashed on the curb.
From this point on, the day was less of a blur. I regained consciousness after my boyfriend handled all of the logistics (insurance cards, police officers, EMTs). I sat on the curb next to an ant pile. I didn’t care if I got bit. I was beyond grateful that my boyfriend could keep calm and handle things under pressure.
Still sobbing, I called my mom. My boyfriend called his mom. My dad got involved. Everyone came to the scene. My neck was hurting so bad. My mom said we should wait to go to the hospital, but everyone else argued that we should go right then and there. I was weak and I caved to my relentless fear of doing wrong by my mother. We waited until the next day to be seen.
24 hours and three X-rays later, my boyfriend and I were back home. I had no injuries except soreness, which we were absolutely grateful for. My phone had never rung so much as it did when the insurance companies were first getting in contact with me. Agent after agent called me, and I even got in contact with a lawyer through my dad. It was all very overwhelming, so I took a day off of work (which stressed me out even more). I used this time to catch up on homework (more stress) and tried to relax by eating an exorbitant amount of pizza with the love of my life. It felt nice. But then I remembered I was car-less. I was not independent anymore, which crushed me.
The next day I had to return to school. My boyfriend (bless him) was willing to drive forty-five minutes one way to drop me off. The whole way there I flinched as each car passed. The road didn’t feel as safe as it did before. When I got dropped off on campus, I went to the nearest bathroom and cried. I felt like a child again, giving other people the burden of driving me around. That feeling of powerlessness makes me very uncomfortable.
I’m writing this a few hours after I cried in that bathroom. I’m outside, sitting on a bench that is shielded from the sun. However, I still feel the cool breeze. That helps the pit in my stomach. It reminds me that I’m alive. I think that life has really been put into perspective for me. Everything about mine changed in a split second. My boyfriend and I were headed to see manatees in Apollo Beach, and then we were not. I was sobbing in the bathroom because of stress. Now I’m not.
It’s the human condition that things change. Life is not a thing that stays stagnant. It moves and changes, even when we don’t want it to. For this, I am learning to be grateful. I know that someday, I will have a car again. I will drive all my friends to the beach while we blast Nicki Minaj through the speakers. My windows will be down and I’ll smell the salty breeze, not once worrying about how insurance works. Life will go on, and I will be happy. But for now, I’ll enjoy the extra time I have with my boyfriend in his car on the way to school.