My parents made me promise to drive safely. An unexpected interruption in January of my junior year forced me to stay with them for a weekend and a funeral.
I rolled my eyes and told them I’d make sure to get in an accident (like only an obnoxiously privileged punk whose biggest worry was my little sister reading my diary could).
They hugged me goodbye and I thought about my Starbucks order. I was going through a nasty bout of self-righteous veganism but found the strength to turn a blind eye to iced caramel macchiatos.
The audiobook for Beautiful Boy ended around Terre Haute. It was hour four of driving and I didn’t believe that Timothee Chalamet could ever be that sad. Then I thought about my dad and tried to ignore the Ronald Reagan International Airport.
I stifled my angst and decided to listen to a Nirvana album all the way through. I put on Nevermind and Kurt Cobain buzzed in my ears.
My gut tensed as the wheels started to wobble. It was icy on I-70 and I felt very alone.
I tried to remember what my dad told me about hydroplaning. You steer into it, right? Definitely don’t hit the brakes but you should take your foot off the pedal.
Even though I wanted to scream at Kurt and tell him to shut up I felt totally at ease. Ever since I found out about death in grade school I knew I’d die in a car crash. Sometimes when I was really sad I’d try and plan my passing. But, I shared a car with my siblings and it’d be a major middle finger to take our whip with me.
This time I didn’t get to decide the outcome.
My 4Runner was spinning between lanes. Thank god everyone else listened to the weather advisory and barely anyone was on the highway.
Metal crunched and I slammed into the median. I’ve watched too many Marvel movies and rushed out of the car I was sure was going to blow up. Coffee dripped down my leg like blood.
A Christian couple in a sedan blocked traffic and called the cops for me. I was shaking so much I sat in their backseat stacked with Bibles and kept saying thank you.
The cops asked me what happened and I said I was just trying to get back to school in Ohio. They laughed and said they’ve never seen anyone that desperate to get to Dayton.
They took my insurance information and I joked about women being bad drivers. They dropped me and all my bags off at a Starbucks. I called my mom.
The first question my older brother asked was is the car okay and then he asked if I was okay.
A woman sitting a table away saw me sniffling and asked if I could help her with her laptop.
She was a Girl Scout Troop Leader and trying to transfer files from her old laptop to her new one.
My friends were on their way to pick me up and it’d be about an hour before they got here so I said why not.
The woman really wanted me to like her. She called me brilliant for connecting her to the wifi.
As I was troubleshooting she told me about her family and how hard it was to be a mom. She said there was never anyone to tell her how she’s really doing except herself and eventually her kids when they’re grown up and it’s too late.
I was in the middle of reassuring her when my friends texted that they were here.
The woman and I said goodbye and she said I should go to the rodeo thirty minutes south of Dayton.
“I only go for the cowboy butts.” She blushed.
Her laptop was still transferring data and I had to go. I rifled through my backpack until I found a flash drive. It felt honorable to hand it to her. There were only poorly written papers and maybe a PowerPoint on there so I told her she could keep it.
“Are you sure?”
We didn’t hug but I thought about her and her Girl Scout Troop and wondered why I was in such a rush to get back to school. In the car I told my friends about the rodeo and we joked about making plans to ogle some Ohio cowboys that summer.
For the first time, I was grateful an adolescent daydream didn’t come true.
Congratulations Sarah!! Lovely writing 💕