Chasing Cars

The police had left. Officer Stevenson assured John that even though they would still have to finish the investigation it would most likely be ruled an accident. John had watched him fill out the paper work identifying the girl as Carly Anne Best and then leave with nothing more than a slight nod. John couldn’t leave though. He wouldn’t leave. The girl, Carly, needed someone there for her. For fuck’s sake her own mother had bailed. The least he could do was be there for her; especially considering it was his fault she was here in the first place.

The sun was streaming through the windows at full force now, and his phone had been going off for what seemed like hours. John couldn’t bring himself to answer it. He knew it was Halvo or his mom or brothers or one of his bandmates. He knew they were probably sick with worry over where he was. But he couldn’t make himself answer the phone and tell them the truth. That he was in the hospital because he had hit a girl with his car. He had hit a girl with his car and now she was on the brink of death and no one seemed to care but him. It was too fucked up to talk about just yet.

A small tap on his shoulder brought John out of the stupor he had been in. Slowly, his head turned to the side, his eyes roaming up from the unknown hand resting on his shoulder to the soft brown eyes of a young woman wearing lavender scrubs. She smiled sadly at him, her other hand reaching out with what smelled like a large cup of strong coffee. John immediately reached for it, not even caring how the hot liquid burned his mouth.

“Thank you.” The words were rough, barely managing to scrape out of his throat.

“You looked like you needed it.”

John nodded, but didn’t say anything else. She looked around quickly before taking a seat next to him.

“You’ve been sitting out here an awfully long time.” John shrugged and chugged more of his heaven in a cheap Styrofoam cup. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

He shook his head, but his phone chose that moment to start going off again. He glanced down at the screen, a picture of him with his mother flashing across it identifying the caller. The girl next to him caught and followed his glance.

“No one knows where you are?” Another negative head shake. “You should probably tell someone. I’m sure there are plenty of people feeling pretty scared about where you are right now. Don’t you think maybe you should let them know you’re safe?”

“I almost killed a girl last night.”

The words were out before John could stop them. Her eyes had been shining with concern and John just couldn’t stand it. Not when he was feeling so responsible for another human being’s almost death. But the girl didn’t look shocked, nor did she pull away like John thought she would. Instead, she quirked her lips to the side and nodded her head thoughtfully.

“You must be the one that came in with the runner.”

“She wasn’t running when I hit her. She was just standing there.”

The raw, haunted look in John’s eyes twisted a part of the young nurse’s soul in an uncomfortable way. She looked around once more before standing and offering her hand to him. John looked up at her, confused.

“C’mon. I have 15 minutes left of my break and I want to show you something.”

Slightly hesitant, John stood before latching onto her hand the way a small child does his mother’s. She took off immediately, leading them both towards the elevator.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

Without another word, John followed her into the empty elevator. She pushed the button for the 5th floor, humming softly to herself as the doors closed and they began to travel upwards. It was quiet when they got out, still early enough in the morning for most of the patients to be sleeping. Even without noise, John knew where they were. A bright sign with teddy bears and balloons declared this floor to be the maternity ward just outside of the elevator doors. John raised his eyebrow at his companion, but she just gave him a secretive smile and took off down the hallway. Like a puppy, he followed in her wake. They came to a stop at a large glass window. On the other side were rows of small, clear bassinets, each one housing a baby wrapped in a striped pink and blue blanket. The nurse began talking before John could even ask what they were doing here.

“Third from the right and two up. Baby boy Taylor.”

She pointed, and John’s eyes found a small bundle that looked exactly like the rest of them to him. Despite the similarity in newborn babies, however, he found his heart softening as the child shifted in slumber. From his side, he heard the woman suck in a deep breath.

“He doesn’t have a name yet. His mom was in labor; his dad was speeding in an attempt to get here as soon as possible. He was their first child.” She turned and John found himself nearly drowning in the sorrow he saw in her eyes. “Another driver ran a stop sign when they were just three blocks away. His dad died instantaneously. His mom made it through the emergency C-section but things don’t look good for her.”

John’s fists clenched in anger, his eyes darting back to the sleeping baby. He was so small. So helpless and innocent and now, utterly alone.

“What happened to the other driver?” The words came out through clenched teeth.

“He hit his head pretty hard, got knocked out cold. He’s on the seventh floor now. The psych ward.” John’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to look at her again.

“He’s on a 72 hour lockdown. He was trying to kill himself.”

“That’s selfish.” His tone was harsh, his eyes blazing as they locked onto hers.

“Sometimes, people do things that seem selfish because they don’t see any other answer. They feel as if they’re drowning and nothing and no one can save them. The only way out that they see is a permanent one. They convince themselves things will be better for others if they’re no longer around. They don’t have anyone to turn to, so they take matters into their own hands. They don’t consider all the people they could hurt in the process. Not because they don’t care, or because they’re selfish, but because they are so desperate to stop the pain that they can’t see anything beyond it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” John couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice. After what he had seen last night he knew firsthand what desperation could lead to. The proof was lying somewhere in this hospital fighting for her life.

“Because you need to understand, the girl that you hit last night was drowning.” She faced him head on now, every line in her body tensed with determination. “She was drowning in her pain and it isn’t your fault. It isn’t your fault that you hit her and it isn’t your fault that she almost died. Just like it isn’t that precious little baby’s fault that his mother and father are now gone. You wouldn’t try to tell me that because he chose that moment to start his mother’s labor, it’s his fault they were on the road at the same time as the driver that hit them. You wouldn’t try to blame him for another person’s actions. Just like you can’t blame yourself for that girl’s actions. She was in pain. She needed an out. You were just a means to an end for her. It. Isn’t. Your. Fault.”

John opened his mouth to argue, to point out to her that it was his truck that had sketchy brakes and a jenky steering wheel. He was the one who had been drinking. He was the one that was driving. But he couldn’t force the words out. Because she was right. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t John’s fault. And blaming himself wouldn’t change anything, nor would it make him feel any better. But he knew what would.

“Her name is Carly Anne Best. Can you take me to her room?”