Fine
Feature Piece
My chest starts to tighten.
My breathing is getting quicker and
quicker.
My head is throbbing.
What is happening? What is going on?
I try and just watch the movie.
I can't.
What the hell is going on.
My chest is rising and falling at a
rapid pace as I try desperately to focus on Bilbo Baggins fending for
his life on the big screen in front of me. The obnoxiously loud
surround sound doesn't help as my head pounds with each crack of the
cliff falling into no where. The hundred people or so in this packed
theatre are all gazing on in wonder and I feel like I'm going to be
sick. All over the couple in front of me.
My hands are sweaty.
My stomach is in knots.
I can't feel my arms. I can't feel my
arms anymore. I can't feel my arms.
What the hell is happening to me?
My mum takes my dead arm and she hauls
me out of the theatre as I try, clumsily, to stay on two feet as the
numbness is spreading through my hips and to my knees. It actually
feels like someone is pouring hot water all over me.We leave the
theatre room and make our way to the closest bathroom as I clutch
onto the wall in sobs. My left hand is holding my stomach and I hunch
over the railing bawling my eyes out, gasping for air repeating, “it
feels like the accident, it feels like the accident, it feels like
the accident” over and over and over.
* * *
It was a dark and rainy night in
November. I offered to drive Cally, Erica, and two of Erica's friends
to Moncton that night to help them out and save a little on gas
myself. It all started out fine enough talking about classes and
relationships and listening to various top 40 and country hits.
Someone joked about my driving and I assured them all I just got
winter tires put on that day and had never been in an accident –
knock on wood – we laughed.
We joked and laughed and talked about
anything that came to mind. Like a road trip clipped from a movie. I
was in the middle of explaining an adorable story about my boyfriend
when – SLAM. Before I knew it I was breaking hard and cranking the
wheel to the left. I knew we were going to hydroplane but there was
no other choice.
Oh my god.
What the fuck.
What do I do.
Don't hit the gas.
Don't hit the break.
Watch out for the guard rail – oh my
god the ditch.
We were spinning and spinning in
circles in the middle of the highway on a dark and rainy november
night and oncoming vehicles approached at equally rapid speeds. We
spun around and around and I could see what might happen as if
it was already happening.
My stomach is in knots.
I can't feel my arms.
Just hold onto the wheel.
Try to get control.
What the hell do I do.
All I could picture was my driver's ed
teacher sitting on that little desk teaching us the lesson on
hydroplaning.
Don't pump the brake.
No, do pump the brake.
Wait, no, pump the gas.
Pump the break and the gas.
DON'T TOUCH A THING.
I couldn't believe what was happening.
None of us saw it coming. Just like none of us saw the vehicle from
behind us barely miss us screeching passed like double-oh-seven to
the right of the vehicle. I think it was the right. I have no idea
which way was which.
I cranked the wheel the other way and
we started spinning again when I finally felt the ground underneath
the tires. SCREEEECH. I put the brake to the floor and the whole car
stopped in a jolt. It was a split second of relief until I looked to
the right and we were horizontal in the middle of the highway, with
no lights on, and two cars bee lining it at the girls.
The gas won't go. The gas won't work.
Oh my shit!
Turn it off, turn it on, gas. Nothing.
Turn it off, turn it on, gas. Nothing.
Turn it off, turn it on, giver gas and
GO. Finally.
We pulled off to the side of the
highway just in time to miss three cars driving by and what felt like
unbelievable speeds. My body almost gave out entirely as I looked at
the girls, “What the actual fuck just happened.” I could finally
hear again – I could see straight and the pounding headache and
throbbing ear drums had calmed the hell down.
Cally looked pale as a ghost. I felt
sick to my stomach. I know she wanted to cry. I wanted to cry. But I
couldn't. I couldn't even process what happened. What could have
happened. What did happen?
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT CAR DOING”
I was so livid, “HOW ARE YOU THAT IGNORANT!” Erica chimed in,
“Who just pulls onto a highway from a dead stop and doesn't even
look to see if a car was coming!” “Well shit, yeah! Like, Okay,
going to pull out here without a light, without notice, with a
fucking transport truck in the other lane, what the hell was I
supposed to do?!”
Cally just sat there and stared. It
broke my heart. I have known this girl for years and I could have
just killed her. That's when all of it sunk in. I could have killed
all of them. I could have killed four people and myself. Killed them.
Dead. All of us. On the side of a highway in a bloody massacre. Gone.
We didn't T-bone the idiot who pulled
out in front of us
We didn't rear-end a transport truck
going 100 km/h
We didn't hit the guard rail, we didn't
hit the ditch
We didn't hit the oncoming vehicles
We didn't roll the car
We didn't cause an accident
We didn't get hurt.
Physically.
* * *
My mum looks at me as I curl up on the
bathroom floor at a theatre in Toronto. We all just came out for an
innocent family movie night over the holiday break and no one
expected me to freak out. But it did. Just like the accident. I'm
still hyperventilating as my mum hands me a wet paper towel for my
face and tells me over and over and over to take a deep breath. “Take
a deep breath, Lissa, just in,” as she moves her hands along with
the air in her belly, “and out.”
My head is numb.
My arms are weak.
My stomach feels sick.
My heart is pounding.
But I can hear straight again.
I can see again and the pounding
headache and throbbing ears have calmed down.
“It just feels like I'm in the car
again, and we're spinning around and around and I don't have control
over what's going to happen. I can't do anything and I put them in
danger. I could have killed them, mum.”
She puts her arms around me, “but you
didn't. You had to make a decision and you made the right one,
there's nothing you could've done differently and you're all fine.”
Fine.
Define, fine.
Physically, sure. But the left over
emotional impact that little what if
has is scarring. Just scarring.
It's happened several times. Several
movie theatres. Several movie nights. All putting me right back in
the drivers seat and feeling like I'm about to die and take four
lives with me. Knowing that I had the ability to rip Cally, or anyone
for that matter, out of her family's life for good and there would be
no changing it. That's a shitty feeling.
Breathe, take a deep breath. I can hear
my mum in my ear every time my chest starts to tighten and my
breathing gets quicker and quicker. Take a deep breath. You're fine.