Sienna

There were two things that made that night more tragic for me than it was to start with. I mean, sure, when the police, ambulances, and fire trucks all pulled up to the mangled wreck, it was obvious that things were serious. I remember being in the back seat, strapped in and unable to get out. I remember the way we went around the bend, and my fingers gently pressed into the cushion of the seat because I felt nervous. Everyone told me that I worried too much for my age, but I didn’t understand what that meant. Everyone told me what toys to play with and how to play with them. They didn’t understand that I had no interest in toys, and that anything that resembled a sliver of innocence had been gone for a long time.

The reason why I gripped the soft cushion of the seat was because I knew that we were going too fast. If I’d have said anything about it, I would’ve been told to shut up. And actually, shut up was pretty good compared to what it usually was.

At one point going around the curve, I shut my eyes. I began to make promises to something I didn’t understand. Was I asking God to save me? Was I asking… someone… to reach down from… somewhere… and pull me from the car? Because I knew it was going to crash.

The back tires were the ones that kicked to the side. There was a thudding sound and then the car jerked to the left, which threw me to the right. My head hit where the window met the door. Before I could attempt to scream in pain, the car moved the other way and then it was…

“We’re going to save you. Just relax.”

Those seven words sort of brought me back to life.

We were upside down. The car was upside down. We’d rolled at least four times. Probably more. It would set up my lifelong fear and hate of roller coasters. It would set up panic attacks at the sight and sound of roller coasters and other so called thrill rides. Even something as simple as a late spring carnival, that everyone would go to, would set one off. The boys would fight at the train tracks, and the boys and girls would make out in the woods, share bright pink and blue cotton candy, and hold hands for the first time in public, declaring that they’d found their summer love. There was too much activity and sound and screams. People yelling. Rusted rides grinding to life. The pop of darts hitting balloons. The massive ding of the bell as some tough jock swung the hammer to prove his strength and win a teddy bear. All those sounds took me back to being upside down in the car, staring forward at the road as one headlight of the car somehow remained intact.

They pulled me from the car with ease. So this isn’t some bravery thing where gas had been leaking and caught fire and I was saved at the last second from a massive explosion. Trust me, nothing about my life was fitting for a TV show.

I was a few feet from the car when I finally looked beyond the man in a uniform who was carrying me, and screamed for my mother. I screamed all the variations. Mom! Mommy! Mama! As though I’d finally figured that it was a good time to pick one and stay with it for the rest of my life.

The man in the uniform put a strong hand to my back and whispered to me… “She’s going to be okay. We’re going to get her out of the car next. It’s going to be okay.”

The words were supposed to soothe me, but they never did. I wanted to see what was happening. The man in the uniform took me to a very bright ambulance. My eyes hurt as they tried to get used to the lights. Two people were waiting. Big smiles. Offering help. Talking to each other using medical terms. I kept trying to lean forward to see the car.

The ambulance would take me to the hospital, and from there, I would go to my grandmother’s house.

But I’m getting ahead of myself for a moment.

They put a big and comfortable blanket around me. The man in the uniform who Cassied me showed up again with an apple juice box. He told me that he had two daughters and they loved apple juice. I preferred soda. The caffeine and sugar would always keep me awake in case danger came back to our apartment.

But nothing else mattered… drinking that juice box was a defining moment for me. It was some kind of pretend healthy juice too, meaning less sugar and more bitterness.

I heard the sound of more crunching metal. A really loud sound, popping and grinding.

I tried to lean forward and someone pulled me back.

Okay, I said that there were two things that made the night more tragic than just the car accident itself.

The first… I had a lucky penny that I’d found one night when danger came to our apartment. I thought that me and my mother weren’t going to make it, but we survived. All because of that penny. That penny had slipped out of my pocket and was left forever in the wreckage of the car.

The second… that sudden love and need that I felt for my mother didn’t matter.

I was the only one who survived the car accident.