Through the Windshield Glass (2 page)

Despair stirred
the meager contents of my stomach; all at once I was vomiting and sobbing with
no sign of ceasing.

One of
the paramedics came over to comfort me and held my hand as I purged
anything and everything in my stomach. My head hurt, my eyes stung, my throat
screamed for me to stop, but I couldn’t. I needed the emotional hurt to go away
and the physical pain was cathartic. I was in control of that pain, unlike the
pain emanating from my heart. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe; for
a moment I considered holding my breath forever, but in an instant the thought
was gone. I knew I could never do such a selfish thing. Besides, the paramedics
wouldn’t have let me get away with it.

My paramedic
stayed and helped me clean the blood off my hands and face then told me I was
not to leave the Cole's house until I had talked to the police. I should have
listened, I pretended I was fine, but as soon as the paramedics began tending
to Maria's brothers I slipped out, to this day I’m not sure how I did it. All I
knew was that I didn't want to be around when Mr. Cole had to hold Hunter and
Trevor and try to comfort them even though there would be no comfort for him.

I really did
feel fine as I was driving home. There was no dizziness, no confusion, I just
felt hollow. Hollow and sick, but I pushed those feelings aside and focused on
my driving. I came to yet another red light, and let my car roll carefully to a
stop. I waited quietly and patiently for the light to change. My heart was
beating slowly and steadily now, constantly reminding me just how alive I was.
Rain began free falling from the gray abyss above me, as though the sky itself
were mourning along with me. The light changed. I slowly inched forward off the
line.

The moment I
was completely in the intersection, I knew that something was wrong. I looked
to my left, and watched as something came at me so fast I didn't even have
time to scream. I watched my hands, calm and ghostly pale, fly off the
steering wheel. The airbag deployed painfully against my chest, oxygen rushed
from my lungs and the air around me was too thick with debris for me to draw
breath again. The car circled in the air, my neck cracked backward from a
second impact, pain erupted magnificently throughout my entire body; then
mercifully, everything was silent.

Chapter Two

I knew that was
the end for me, and it should have been, but then I started hearing voices. It
took a while to sort out what was being said, and even longer to decide if what
I was hearing was coming from an actual conversation or the disturbed
mutterings of my damaged brain.

Someone was
talking to my parents, "Alice was hit by a drunk driver in a large
truck," the voice told them quietly, "She's in a coma now, but it's
unlikely that she'll ever wake up, and even if she does, she won't be the same
Alice. There's an overwhelming chance that she will be a vegetable and have
severe lasting brain damage. I'll leave you alone so you can decide what to
do."

I heard my mom
stifle a sob. I fought against the morphine drugging my system. I knew it was
keeping me out of physical pain, but I wanted to see my parents one last time
more than I wanted comfort. I was conscious while at the same time, completely
unconscious and unable to force myself into wakefulness. I passed hours like
that, fighting against the medicine, but to no avail. I knew each second I
struggled against it I was shortening my life exponentially, but I didn’t care.
I knew I wasn’t going to want to live if I would be trapped in an immobile body
for the rest of my existence, and if I were going to die I had to say goodbye.

Finally, after
what seemed millennia, the voices started again. My mom was crying heavily
while my dad explained to the doctors they felt it would be best for me if I
were to be taken off life support. That did it, I had to see my parents before
they did that, I had to make sure they knew they weren’t taking my life away
from me and that it was my choice to leave so they didn’t have to deal with the
fear that they had taken away any chance I had to get better.

It shouldn’t
have been possible, but I was able to force my eyes open. My dad was holding my
mom tightly against his shoulder. I could see her shaking with sobs and softly
saying, "Why, Andrew? Why?"

"I don't
know, Linda," my dad replied softly. I knew my dad was crying too, but he
wouldn't let my mom know that, not for the world. I struggled to open my eyes
wider; the glare of the artificial lights on the too-white walls of the
hospital room blurred my vision until I could only make out my parents as two,
bleary, angelic shapes.

“Daddy," I
asked. It took more effort than I thought it would to push air past my vocal
chords.

The sound of my
raspy, sick sounding voice startled my parents. Both of them stared at me,
dumbfounded, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry I
didn’t tell you, but Maria, she--” tears spilled from my eyes, and the painful
knowledge that Maria had died constricted my chest. The tears fell fast and
hard like the rain on my windshield, I couldn’t summon the energy or desire to
wipe the tears. I sniffled and blinked away the pain and tried to muster up a
smile for my mom, but it hurt. Everything hurt. My body begged for me to fall
back under the spell of the morphine until I was unplugged, but I kept fighting
for my mom.

My mom rushed
over to me and attempted to take my hand, but it was so covered in tubes, and
bandages that it was impossible. She settled for resting her palm on my right
cheek. It seemed to be the only part of me that wasn’t hurt. Her hands were
cold and wet from her own tears, but it felt good to have something so alive
and loving near me. My back throbbed painfully and realized it wasn’t just my
lack of motivation that was keeping me from moving, I physically was unable to
move a muscle and something else was breathing for me. I knew I didn’t have
long.

Up close I
could see how bad my mom looked. Her mascara was running, her gray streaked
hair stuck out of her normally tight bun at odd angles; she looked about twenty
years older.

“Don’t
apologize, you did what anyone would do,” my mom whispered, “Are you going to
be okay?”

“Of course,
Mom, yeah, I’ll be okay,” I replied. It was a blatant lie, my dad knew it too,
but he kept nobly quiet for my mom's sake. That was Andrew Patterson at his
best. He'd always reminded me of the rocks at Easter Island, he stood taller
than most, reeked of authority and wisdom, and yet everything about him was
unexpected. He didn't become the way he was, he was just born stoically strong,
wise, and rock solid. It made him a phenomenal lawyer and an even better
father.

My dad joined
my mom in placing his hand atop hers on my cheek.

“Where’s
Lacey?” I asked, “And James?”

“I’m right
here,” I hadn’t seen Lacey until that point, she was sitting out of my sight
and must have been asleep until she heard the talking, “James is on his way.”

“Hey, I’m sorry
I left,” I said. My throat was tight with emotion and tubes, giving my voice a
huskier quality than ever before. I wanted to see James, but I knew he wouldn’t
make it in time.

Lacey choked on
a sob while shaking her head, she tried to smile but couldn't.

Lacey didn't
look her best either. Her face was sans the minimal amount of makeup she
normally wore, her black hair was knotted into a bun, messier than my mother's,
and she was still wearing her pajamas. I felt bad, immensely guilty for what I
had done to Lacey, I shouldn’t have left her, I should have called Maria’s house,
but I hadn’t been thinking. I’d cost myself my life and given my sister
the grief and possible guilt she might feel for not being awake to stop me.

Lacey shook her
head; she didn’t seem capable of speech as she tentatively placed her hand on
my cheek as well. My family's hands were heavy, but it felt good to have them
near me; their pulses beating through each other and into me. I could feel my
heart straining to thrum; my dad knew first, followed quickly by Lacey, and
finally my mother. My heart rate monitor started to slow, while all the other
machines I was hooked up to began to shout warnings. Within moments doctors and
nurses were pouring in, all looking ready for a fight.

Sterile hands
began working on me, I mouthed ‘I love you’ to my family and tried to ignore my
failing body. It was all I could do as the throes of death took hold of my
body. Tears streamed down my face, salting fresh wounds and tickling my neck.
In unison, my family crossed their arms over their chests, held up their
fingers in the 'I love you' sign, and finally blew me one last kiss. The last
thing I saw as death embraced me were three flying kisses, communicating all
the love my family had in their hearts for me. I imagined myself being zipped
into a body bag and placed in the morgue next to Maria. We would lay there in
our cocoons, like dormant caterpillars waiting to break free but forever bound;
one last slumber party.

As I rose above
the bed I was lying on, I saw doctors prepping me to for the AED. I didn't look
like myself at all. Most of my face was covered in bandages, as well as my arms
and hands, I couldn't see my lower half, but I doubted it was any better. Each
shock of the AED pulled me sharply back, but one heartbeat wasn’t strong
enough, and eventually the pulling stopped. I witnessed a kindly nurse walk
over to my parents to remove them from the room. Lacey was crying desperately,
my father was holding her back, but it didn’t matter. Lacey dropped sobbing to
the floor and I felt her anguish where my heart used to beat.

My dad helped
Lacey to her feet and held both my sister and mother close to him as they left,
letting his two remaining ladies cry desperately into his shoulders. He was the
only one who looked back, and although he was quiet, his eyes were screaming with
pain. It made my heart ache to see my family in so much heart wrenching pain,
but soon everything around me washed away.

Chapter Three

I woke with my
nose pressed against something dark and heavy. I felt immediate relief ripple
through my body as I realized everything had been a dream. I had just pulled
the blankets over my face and the lack of oxygen had caused me to have the most
vibrant dream of my entire life.  I lazily stretched my arm forward to
remove the blanket, but it wouldn't move. I had somehow managed to wrap the
blanket completely over my head and now it was stuck.

The hiss of a
zipper startled me, blue light suddenly spilled onto my face. Maria was staring
down at me.

I was so glad
to see her! But then I noticed something, Maria was wearing the white dress she
had been in my dream and we weren't  in my room. The roller coaster
sensation returned. I wanted to feel something of the fear I was used to, but
my heart wouldn't beat. I wanted to hyperventilate or feel my muscles tense with
anxiety or my stomach drop to my feet, but all I  could feel was empty
terror and longing for the relief I'd felt when I thought I had been dreaming.

Maria put a
finger to her lips and gently pulled on my hand. I stepped off the ledge my
body was resting on and stood next to her without making a sound. Maria guided
me to the door just as it opened to allow three people to enter. They lifted my
body bag, and what must have been Maria's on to two separate stretchers and
wheeled us out of the room. The two of us followed and entered a large, somber
room. I could see my family and a few friends all gathered around a casket.
Maria was gone.

I passed
through my aunt Katie and sidled up next to Lacey who was staring into my waxy
face.

My hair was
more perfectly coiffed than I had ever seen it. Each curl was perfect and
surrounded my head like a halo. My makeup made me look much older than my
seventeen years, and I was dressed in a flowing lavender skirt and white
blouse. Something I never would have worn in a million years. I'd spent most of
my life in jeans and tee shirts, if I had had any say that's what I would have
been buried in. I almost laughed when the thought occurred to me that I
should've told my family that when I had the chance.

People
continually approached my parents to offer their condolences and I watched as
my parents slowly became worn down and numb to the apologies. My mother's eyes
gradually became more and more red and squinty while my father rubbed his beard
more times than I could count.

Rebecca, James'
wife, was sitting in front of James who couldn't seem to get control of
himself. He'd always been the one to keep me company when I was feeling down.
The one to make sure I felt beautiful and loved even when I was home alone
during a school dance. We'd been so close, and it had been so hard to see him
leave for his new life, but this was even worse. He was right there, I was
close enough to touch him, but I couldn't. I wanted to comfort him, and hold
him, and tell him that I'd never leave him, but he was too far away.

I suddenly
noticed a freestanding door next to my casket, it opened wide into a dark
abyss. I knew I was supposed to go through, and I only hesitated a moment.

"Goodbye,
James," I whispered in his unhearing ear. I planted a ghostly kiss on his
cheek and watched him shiver slightly at the touch. It was the closest contact
we would ever have again and it made me long to hug him and make him know I was
there, but I stopped myself. No need to give him false hope of seeing me again.

I walked through
the door without looking back.

Chapter Four

Death was
nothing like I had expected it to be. As most people do, I had the really
misconstrued idea that death and the afterlife would appear just as the movies
had depicted them; no such luck. I met no pearly gates, sprouted no wings, and
sported no halo. After going through the door at my funeral I walked into what
could only be described as a hallway. There were twelve wooden doors lining the
red walls, six on each side. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky; one
end was bright, azure blue, while the other was black night, flecked by diamond
stars. Looking down the length of the ceiling was like watching a sunset.