I had gone to Town Center Montessori to pick up my lil' bro Big M, only he wasn't there; it was the date of the big basketball tournament at some other school and nobody had thought to tell me. Peeved, since I had driven all the way there in horrible weather conditions, I left.
Minutes after leaving the school, the back wheels of my parents' Buick Rendezvous lose traction and I start sliding to the left into oncoming traffic. I turn the steering wheel slightly to the right, like they teach you in driving school, but the car keeps sliding left. Instantly, before I realize, I panic and jerk the wheel hard all the way to the right. Now the car decides to respond, and spins sharply to the right and off the road. The front slams into a tree and a hit my head on the driver side window. An old Destiny's Child song bumps through the speakers.
I sit there in disbelief as the song continues to play. Without getting out I know that there's going to be damage; it was a hard collision. One car passes me. Then another. The next one slows, but ultimately decides not to stop. I get out of the car and groan: there's a gigantic dent in the side of the car, right between the driver's door and the front wheel. It's a nasty one.
For some reason I had decided to leave my cellphone at home.
To shaken and emotionally crushed to even curse, I get back into the car, bust a three-point turn and drive home. The steering is off; I have to turn the wheel almost 90 degrees to the right just to keep driving straight.
I get home and tell dad, who's been sick all week with the flu, literally bed-ridden. He comes out and checks the damage. He laments, but overall does a good job of not eating my head off. All the same, I break down and cry; the guilt is too much. The last thing he had told me before I left home was to be careful, and I go and crash the car. A disappointment, a let-down. I weep, and for the first time in m life, my dad comes over and hugs me and comforts me while I stood there crying. I want to say that I'm sorry. For the car, but more importantly for not becoming the successful son he thought I was going to be, the big-time biochemist working on a cure for cancer -- not some dude working the graveyard shift at a call center. That's where most of the guilt is coming from. I want to apologize for this most of all, but I'm crying to hard to speak. I hold my dad fiercely, desperately as I cry into his coat.
I eventually gather myself and mumble something about going to the bank. I walk 30 min in the blizzard and withdraw almost my entire savings. The teller probably thought I stole the bank card from Mr. Carter and was jacking him for all he was worth. I didn't care. I put the money in an envelope and walk the 30 minutes back home. When I get back, my dad isn't home, but my mom is; I give the $1200 to her and explain to her why I'm doing it. She turns to ice. I go and fix the wireless network.
Well, at least I have the next episode of Lost to distract me.Labels: crash, family, Lost, parents |
