“Head the front of the vehicle toward the curb,” she said on a too sharp left turn. “And slow down, for crying out loud!”
“You’re a fine one to talk. How many speeding tickets have you got, Mom?”
“Exactly my point! I don’t want you to have to learn the hard way like I did.”
“You still haven’t learned your lesson, Mom. You still speed.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, trying to make me out to be the hypocrite again. I’m not going there, all right. I’m not entering the dance of destruction. Do you understand?”
“Cut the therapy talk, Mom,” he said with a contemptuous roll of the eyes. “It’s a bunch of crap.”
“Oh, right, that’s right, you’re beyond therapy now. Nobody can tell you anything. And you’re not taking your medication anymore; or at least not the prescribed medication that might actually help you. I wonder what you are taking.”
“I thought you weren’t going to enter the dance of destruction,” he said with that victorious smirk just like his father.
“Well, if I just knew what to talk to you about…” this sudden blurt of honesty escaped from her lips with a sigh of defeat. Anything but this angry brooding silence, she thought.
“If we could talk about something more interesting than the fucking weather!”
“Watch your mouth, young man!”
“Oh, like you don’t cuss!”
“When have you heard me cuss?”
“When you and Dad fight. I’ve heard plenty of four letter words fly outta your mouth. I ought to tape you next time.” This time his voice was raised in bitterness.
“Your father and I don’t fight anymore.”
“Yeah, right!”
“We don’t fight. We’ve reconciled our differences since we finally decided to go our separate ways,” Allison said, unable to actually say the word “divorce” to Alex. Would she forever refer to it as “going our separate ways”.
The divorce wasn’t final yet. She and Frank had finally decided to file after nearly nine months of separation, both of them agreeing this perpetual state of limbo had gone on long enough. It had been good for them to call it quits, she thought as she took a deep breath to calm herself. Allison hoped Alex would see the logic in what she said to him about her and his dad getting along better now that they didn’t have to live together. It was true, after all. Wasn’t it? They didn’t fight anymore. Did they? She searched her memory and couldn’t think of a single incident since the separation. Except for the one time, when it was his weekend with the kids and he let Kristen go on two sleepovers in a row then sent her back Sunday night exhausted and out of sorts, so much so that she couldn’t wake her in time for school on Monday morning. She thought of a few other incidents, but she wasn’t that angry, was she?
Her heart ached. She was losing her son, as she knew one day she would, but not like this. The painful desire to reconnect with the little boy she loved so much but never quite understood took over.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” she asked in earnest.
“I told you. Because all you can talk about is the weather, how wet and cold it is; or me and my problems and how I should live my life and drive the damn car.”
“I was only trying to help,” said Allison, her sense of defeat growing.
“Well, you’re not helping. Therapy doesn’t help worth shit, and neither does the stupid ass medicine, so just get off my ass!”
“Hey, I told you once already to watch the mouth! I’ve had it with your lack of respect! You owe me respect.”
“Whatever.” His voice cracked with a screeching whine, adolescence mixed with contempt. He turned the radio on, tuned it to his channel and turned it up all in one swift movement. The sound of rap music filled the car.
“Turn it down this instant or I will ground you. And don’t think you can sweet talk your father out of it when you go to visit him this weekend. Despite what you think there are some things we agree on, and this loud crap music while you’re driving is one of them.” Alex had acquiesced and turned the music down before the words were entirely out of her mouth. Allison realized she was yelling. It was back to the brooding sullen silence and staring straight ahead. “I will not enter into the dance. I will not enter into the dance,” she mouthed the words inaudibly to herself and took a deep breath. After she’d had all the silence she could stand, she decided she’d try again, only this time she’d stick to safe small talk.
“How’s basketball season going, sweetie?” She grasped for something with which they might connect.
“Fine.”
“I’m sorry I missed that first game. I…” Allison stopped herself. Frank had taken charge of all the kids’ sports activities. He knew he had an in there with the kids that she didn’t have and he used it to his full advantage. He was sure not to get the schedule to her until just this week. And Alex was spending more time at his Dad’s so she knew less and less of the boy’s activities. She bit back on her resentment.
“There was a little mix up with the schedule.” Allison caught herself.
“It’s okay,” said Alex.
She had lost control and spoken her mind about Frank in front of the kids far too often and she made a pact with herself that she wouldn’t do it again. Though she knew he did it about her all the time. She wouldn’t stoop to his level of nastiness, she thought and the thought filled her with a fleeting feeling of pride and victory.
“I’m going to do all I can to make it to this game, though you know I’m going to be a little late. I have to go pick up Kristie from dance class.
“Whatever,” he said wearing that blanket of apathy like a royal robe.
There was a time that he would have cared if she made it to his games or not, but Allison believed he truly didn’t care anymore. Was it all just a teenage phase that he would eventually outgrow, or was he permanently jaded? Would he ever come back, she wondered.
“Okay, this is where you merge onto the highway. Be careful now.”
“I know how to merge, Mom,” he said flipping on the turn signal, checking the rear view and side view mirrors, getting over into the far right lane, yielding as he approached the entrance ramp. All of his movements surprisingly smooth.
“You forgot to check your blind spot.”
“Huh!?”
“Your blind spot. There’s a blind spot in your peripheral field of vision. After you check your mirrors you’re supposed to turn your head slightly and do a quick check in the direction of the lane you wish to change into.” Allison knew it all by heart after all the defensive driving classes.
“I know what the blind spot is and I did check it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re going a little fast. Slow it up,” she said as Alex drove up the entrance ramp that led to the highway. “Check and see what’s coming. Its rush hour, you know. People are tired. They just want to get home.”
“Like you can really even call it ‘rush hour’. This is Lamasco, Mom. Not L.A.”
“I said slow up. This is not one of your game system games.” Allison clutched the door handle and stepped on the imaginary brake. He merged onto the highway in front of an SUV that honked at him.
“My God, Alex, you could’ve gotten us killed.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t know how to merge. That dude’s supposed to let me in. You just have to call the other guy’s bluff.”
“Now you sound like your father.”
“And what could be worse than that, Mom?” the boy said with angry sarcasm. “You’re always criticizing him… and me.”
“I know I’m overly critical, Al, and I know I’m nagging you.” She said these words and yet there was something beyond mere nit picking and fault finding this time. She was tense, terribly tense. Some instinctual sense of dread compelled her to want to grab the wheel away from him. But how to get your kids to listen to your message when you truly have an important, maybe even u
rgent one to give them. Somehow deep in the marrow of her Germanic upbringing she believed that children never really received the message or took it seriously unless it was delivered with zealous authority. It had to be drummed into their heads and repeated time and time again with strict and unwavering command. And it had to be spoken loudly. If you said it nicely in a normal tone of voice, they wouldn’t really hear you. How ridiculous to think that way because they tuned her out all the same, just like she did her parents. So, as she learned in therapy, she would try to state things differently, with more concern and respect, with more objectivity.
“I’m not going to nag you anymore. I’m just going to say this one thing and then I’ll shut up. The road is just wet enough to be slick. It’s when it’s like this that you’re most likely to skid.” Maybe she should tell him that she was speeding once in weather just like this, had to slam on the brakes, skidded, and hit another car. Then again he might use that knowledge against her like how Frank always did. He had learned well from his father.
“Also, it’s getting dark. Many accidents occur at dusk.”
“I thought you were just going to say the one thing and then shut up.”
“Are you telling me to shut up? Are you being disrespectful?”
“I was just repeating what you said. Forget it!”
Allison remembered that someone in an emotional state is much more likely to have an accident. She saw Alex grip the wheel tighter as he inadvertently pushed down on the gas. She figured she better back off.
She was distracted for a moment by a billboard advertising a local jewelry store. The focal point was a diamond choker on a woman’s long lovely neck. Also notable was the gracefully prominent jaw line and chin, the head turned at a slight angle, the light colored hair pulled back revealing a diamond earring. The woman’s lustrous sensual red lips and just the tip of her nose were the only visible facial features. Allison wanted to be that lady–beautiful, rich, glamorous, and yes… vain, but who gives a damn, she thought. She wanted to be somewhere exotic adorned with diamonds instead of here in southern Indiana in the cold drizzle of late November in a minivan driven by a surly teenager.
The moment of reverie vanished suddenly and reality thrust upon her with the flash of red brake lights and the sound of screeching tires. Her body was forced forward as she slammed on the imaginary brakes. Her arms flailing; her right hand clutching the door handle, her left arm reaching over to Alex, trying to protect him somehow. She instinctually leaned her body to the left, toward her son. All of this occurring instantaneously, yet there was her other self, watching from behind her shoulder, observing the whole thing in slow motion, unable to stop it.
Then something large suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere blew up in front of her, obstructing her view, pushing her back with a force stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. For a moment she thought she was dying and this was the entrance to the tunnel with the light at the end that she’d always heard about. She thought she heard herself scream then an expletive blurted out in utter fear by Alex; the force of impact, the crashing sound of steel and breaking glass. And then it was all over. The large object deflated, and only then did she realize it was the air bag.
A surreal stillness and silence followed as Allison noticed a powdery, smoke-like substance in the air all around and the smell of something burning. She could see but it didn’t seem like she could hear. It was too quiet. Her neck was stiff but still she managed to turn her head in Alex’s direction. He looked dead and she thought she saw blood. She tried to move but couldn’t. It hurt too badly. She felt sore and stiff all over. Her face stung. It felt like a bad sunburn. It was far too quiet. In a fit of desperation and panic she called out for Alex. She asked him to squeeze her hand if he could hear her. She could barely hear herself talk, her voice coming through all fuzzy and muffled like someone speaking from inside a tunnel. She felt his fingers faintly and feebly wrap around her hand.
“Can you squeeze a little harder, honey?” Allison pleaded. She had to know that he was all right.
“It wasn’t my fault, Mom,” she barely heard him say as if he was now the one standing in the tunnel. Relief rushed over her. He was conscious and able to speak to her. He was squeezing her hand now.
“Are you hurt?”
“I think my nose is bleeding.”
Poor Alex, he always got nosebleeds–chronic sinus and allergy problems. Grab some tissues. Pinch the bridge of the nose. Put a cold rag on the back of his neck. Poor Alex! Give him some Singular. Always something. Always something with the ear, nose, and throat. Ear tubes. Tonsillectomy. Strep throat religiously every March.
“Where are the tissues?” Allison said feeling around for the box, then realizing it was in the back seat. The soreness, stiffness, and trauma wouldn’t allow her to reach back to get the tissue box though she tried.
“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll use my shirt. It’s already a mess.” Allison looked over at Alex. The front of his light grey sweat shirt was covered with blood.
“Pinch the bridge of your nose.”
“It hurts.”
Allison said nothing, not wanting to alarm him but she wondered if his nose was broken.
“Oh, baby,” she muttered. She wanted to help him but all she could do was turn her body at enough of an angle to see him. The sight of the blood and her son in such a fragile state sent a sympathy pain shooting all through her body. Allison felt faint, her mind going this way and that; like the alpha state right before one falls into sleep, only not so pleasant; a slipping away, a dying, dizzying, nauseous feeling. She must’ve muttered something unintelligible to Alex, because his voice came through loud and clear for the first time, bringing her back into reality.
“I wrecked the car, Mom. I hit the car in front of us. It wasn’t my fault. I tried to stop.”
“I know, Al”
“I’m just not lucky Mom. I try. I try.” And then he was crying, angry and slamming his fist against the door. “Matt could’ve stopped in time.”
Poor Alex! Always the one getting carted off to the emergency room with broken bones and stitches. He took the brunt for all of them. He was the more than willing scapegoat
“It wasn’t your fault, Alex. It’s why they call them accidents. Do you know how many wrecks I’ve had? By the way, how are your arms?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Can you move them?” Allison realized she could turn her head and move a bit more easily now though she was still sore and stiff. Both of them were only now able to assess the damage from the impact of the airbags. She watched as he moved his arms up and down and side to side.
“Yeah, I think my arms are okay. I don’t know about the rest of me though,” Alex said.
“Thank God. For once I can honestly say it was a good thing you didn’t listen to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re hands were at nine o’clock and three o’clock.”
He chuckled a little and so did Allison. The moment of release was short lived. It hurt to laugh. It hurt to breathe. Only then did Allison realize just how sore her side was. And as for Alex, his short lived laughter quickly dissolved into a fit of angry and anxious sobbing. “Dad’s gonna kill me. My insurance rates will go up. I’ll never get my license.”
“We have to call your Dad and tell him.”
“No! Don’t!”
“We have to. He’s going to be waiting for you at the gym and you’re not going to be there. He’s got to know. Where’s my cell phone?” She said searching for her purse which had been on the seat next to her but was now on the floor. She snatched her purse up and frantically felt in the front pocket for her cell phone. It was there, right where she had put it. The security of the small familiar object brought a flood of much needed relief. At that moment the blue lights of several squad cars flashed by them. Sirens squealed and then came an ambulance with its horrible squall of urgency. It was then that Allison realized this was a serious accident, possibly fata
l, involving more than just themselves and the car in front of them.
“Shit!” Alex exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Mom. I cussed.”
“It’s understandable under the circumstances.” Allison thought how ironic that Alex would apologize for cussing at a time like this.
“The car behind us hit us too,” he said looking in the rear view mirror then straining to look around the SUV in front of them. “It’s a pile-up.”
The police officers at the scene, the paramedics who rode in the ambulance and some of the other injured who waited in the emergency room with Allison and Alex contributed bits of information about the accident. It was a five car pile-up and they were car number three. They heard that some crazy drunk woman staggering along the highway decided to hop up on the guard rail and do a swan dive onto the highway. Car number one slammed on the brakes in an attempt to avoid hitting her, setting off the domino chain reaction. According to all reports the woman had survived and was still conscious when brought to the emergency room. It was speculated she would most likely fare better than most due to the fact that she was intoxicated at the time. An indiscreet emergency room nurse responsible for check in vented her frustrations about drunks and all the harm and havoc they heap upon others through their recklessness; while they usually get off remarkably easy due to the looseness, limberness, and complete lack of muscle tension brought about by alcohol.
Frank met them at the emergency room with his usual frantic expenditure of alarm and misdirected concern. He was not the presence of strength and security Allison had hoped he would be; not for herself of course, she had long since given up looking to Frank for that, but she had hoped for Alex’s sake he could be more of an example of quiet courage. There are certain things which only a man can adequately impart to a boy Alex’s age, and as much as Allison tried she could only reach him just so far and no further. What little strength and comfort she could impart was being hindered by her own bodily injuries–pain on her right side which hurt every time she took a breath, pain in her right eye and a stinging sensation as if she’d been slapped repeatedly all over her face, apparently caused by an allergic reaction to the powder in the air bag. She knew she would have one beauty of a shiner in that right eye which she could feel swelling shut.
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