I settled in the leather seat and strapped in while he walked around to the driver’s side. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what to say to the gorgeous man sitting beside me as he pulled out of the parking garage into the dreary evening rain.
“Have you seen this production before?” Arch asked as he merged into traffic. Rain splattered the windshield in a soothing pattern.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to. My father and I used to go to the theater often, but somehow always missed this one. He was a little afraid of cats, and I’m told they’re heavily featured.”
The booming laughter he let out startled me. I hadn’t meant to be funny, more sarcastic. “You’re hilarious, Ellie. Where’d you get your sense of humor?”
“My mom,” I said with a smile, glad I entertained him. “We always told her she could’ve been acomedienne.” In the middle of telling him her favorite joke about a priest and a rabbi, a rapid motion outside my window caught my eye. Before I realized what the motion meant, a large vehicle veered out of the other lane and sideswiped our SUV. My head knocked into the passenger window hard enough to make me see stars as the airbags on my side of the car narrowly missed my face.
Arch struggled to regain control of the car as it slipped on the wet street. I turned my fuzzy head to the right to find a large Dooley truck still pushing the SUV across the median and into the path of oncoming traffic. The driver of the truck appeared to be unconscious. Despite my crushing headache, I managed to yell out, “Arch!Floor it! You’ve got to get in front of this truck before he kills us.” I tried not to scream the words. Staying calm seemed a better idea than panicking.
To his credit, he trusted me enough to not question my words. He got a hold of himself and stomped the gas. He jumped the SUV forward and to the right side of the road but then slammed on the brakes, as he successfully avoided plowing into a sedan in front of us. More tires squealed behind us, and another large crash jerked us forward and back again. Next to me, Arch’s airbags exploded.
I stared stupidly at my seat belt buckle. My fingers wouldn’t work properly to unlatch it. Arch leaned forward with his head on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?” I asked, terrified he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Yes, trying to get my head to stop swimming.” His voice sounded far away. “And wondering why your side airbags didn’t go off.”
My seat belt eventually unlatched. “I’m going to go check if the other driver is hurt. You stay there, you’re bleeding.” Blood trickled out of his nose.
“I’m coming, too, babe. I’ll be fine, and I’m not the only one bleeding.” He reached up and stroked the side of my head and then showed me the blood on his fingers.
“I must be in shock or something. I couldn’t feel your fingers touching my head.” My hearing was still a little off, almost like a ringing sound. “I’m sure someone already called 911. Let’s go check on him.” Arch nodded, airbag burns already prominent on his face.
I tried to open my door, but it was jammed shut. “You get out, and I’ll slide over there. This side is too badly damaged.” My entire body shook from the shock.
Arch climbed out, and his bloody hand reached in to help me move over to the driver’s side. I could’ve done it on my own, but I appreciated him offering the help. My knees quaked once I stood on the road outside. My wobbly legs didn’t appreciate the heels. I lifted my face skyward, thankful for the rain, cooling my adrenaline-heated skin and washing away the blood.
We made our way over to the truck. The hood was crumpled, while the bumper on the truck lifted the rear of our SUV. People swarmed the wreck while we oriented ourselves.
Arch approached one of the men as he walked away from the truck. “Is he okay?”
The man raised his eyebrows at our appearance and injuries. “A lot worse off than you two. We started to come check on you but saw you both moving around. He needed attention first. Turns out it wasn’t all that needed.” The man removed his cap. “He’s gone.”
“He’s dead?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any visible wounds. We think maybe he had a heart attack or stroke or something and that’s what caused him to wreck into you two. How are you both? You look like you need to sit down.”
“We need to be checked out,” Arch replied. “But we’ll live. Are you sure he’s gone? Did anyone try CPR?”
“Yeah, that lady over there.” He pointed to a well-dressed woman still leaning into the truck. “She said he was gone. Said she’s a nurse.”
Sirens cut through the sound of rain hitting the pavement. Adrenaline stopped coursing through my body, and my limbs began to shake again. My skin rapidly became chilled, and the rain started to stab my bare shoulders and arms like violent little icicles. A jacket was placed around me, and I looked up, head swimming, to Arch positioning it to protect my skin from the drizzle. I leaned into him for a comforting hug, thankful to be alive.
When the ambulance pulled up, we motioned it to the truck, in hopes the woman was mistaken. A second ambulance pulled up behind it, along with two police cars and a fire truck. Concerned emergency workers soon swamped us.
A paramedic told me to move my eyes this way and that while he shined a light. Arch was being put through the same routine out of my line of sight. Once deemed fit to travel, they ushered us into an ambulance together.
The driver of the truck was definitely deceased and, to my relief, given the other ambulance to himself. My heart hurt for him and his family, especially having so recently lost a loved one, but I couldn’t stomach the concept of riding in an ambulance with a dead person.
I’d never ridden in an ambulance before, and the experience unsettled me. I didn’t like riding backward, but Arch insisted I ride on the stretcher. He sat on the bench beside me and held my hand while the paramedics did what they could with our injuries.
“My father died of a pulmonary embolism,” I said, voice hushed. The paramedic glanced from Arch to me and moved to sit up front with the driver since he’d finished the first aid. “If he’d been driving when it happened, this would’ve happened to him. It was so fast, there was no time to react or save him.” I expected a hot, searing pain to hit my heart with the words but felt only a dull throb. I was beginning to heal.
Arch clasped my hand. “I’m so sorry. Were you with him?”
“No, and part of me is glad, and part is sad.” Arch began to stroke my forearm with a light touch, showing he was there for me, even if he didn’t have words to comfort me. “If I’d been with him, I would’ve had toseethe light leave his eyes. I don’t know if I could’ve handled it.” The pain in my heart throbbed a little harder. “But on the other hand, if I’d been there, maybe I would’ve noticed something sooner and gotten help.”
“Where did it happen?” I closed my eyes, the memories of the awful day causing my stomach to churn more than it already was.
