Balcom Agency

Thursday, February 5, 2009

9:30 pm

Sitting in the parking lot of On the Border in Arlington, I call my voicemail. I follow Ashley's BMW around winding roads and turn left at the awkward intersection that she described to me. I drive west on I-30.

Sawyer Brown repeats through the stereo.

All these years, where have I been?
Well I've been down the road to work and home again
And I'm still here until I'm gone
Don't you rub it in too hard that I've been wrong all these years

We've had bad weather, and muck lines the shoulders of the highway. I turn on my blinker for 820 North. My 2-door Honda Accord skims the outside of the exit ramp. I hear gravel under my tires as the back end of my car fishtails out of control. I let off of the gas and turn the wheel, careful not to over-correct. The car spins in an unexpected direction. The tires squeal. Why are the tires squealing? I'm not slowing down. Why am I not slowing down?! WHY AREN'T THE BRAKES WORKING?!

Out the front window, there is grass. The car hops and jumps. The noise is deafening, like a thousand mallets beating my doors. Did something explode? I see sky, then grass, sky, then grass. Ohmygod. There's nothing I can do... I cover my face. The noise gets louder. Just make it stop. For the love of God, please, just make it stop. Through bobbing hands, I see an explosion.

And then there is quiet.

I gasp for air. The CD skips.
The interior lights are on. Odd.

I take off my seatbelt and fall on my head. What in the... I look out the windows. I just see ground, all around me. I'm upside down.

I panic.

I push on my door – HARD on my door. It doesn't budge. I crawl across the sunroof which is now down instead of up and push on the passenger door. Nothing.

I'm trapped in the car. I'm trapped in the car. OHMYGOD AND I SAW SOMETHING EXPLODE! Where is my phone? WHERE IS MY PHONE?! I look at the cup holder, its normal resting place. I have to tilt my head up to find it. Ugh, upside down...

I slap at the dome light which I am now sitting on. I can't see anything. I look in the backseat. Wasn't that Target back just in the floorboard? I scan the rubble looking for anything that's familiar. The back window is broken, and trees poke through it. Where in the hell am I? I smell water. I paw through debris and notice I've gotten blood on Brian's sweater. Blood. Why am I bleeding? My hand is covered. I examine it closely. It doesn't look serious. My phone lights up. MY PHONE! I lean, cautiously, toward the back of the car, unsure if it will tip or rock or move. I pick it up from the web of trees. My thumb jams into the red phone button, and my wallpaper stares back at me.

911 or Dad?

9:38 pm

I calmly tell the 911 operator that I was the only car involved in a crash, that I am fine but that I am trapped in my car upside down. She asks questions that I have just told her answers to, but I answer again, slowly. Stay calm, Emily. Hysteria will do you no good at this point. If you can't tell her where you, she can't come get you.

"How long will it be before someone is here?"

I am the first call in the cue. It shouldn't take long. I hang up. My arm hurts.

My car is upside down. My head drops into my hands. How did this happen?

9:40 pm

Mom answers the phone.

"I need to talk to Dad."

She passes the phone. They mutter to one another. I breathe deep and repeat everything I have just said to the 911 operator, this time to my dad. He asks questions that I answer as calmly as I can. He begins repeating things aloud. He asks if I need him to come to me. I say no. We keep talking. I think I try to tell him some of the detail of what happens, but I'm not sure. I hear Mom moving around. I stammer actually, yes, please, do come. I am so embarrassed. Dad says something about needing to put pants on while Mom says she's getting in the car. She tells him to hurry. He tells her to wait. I don't even know what's happening.

9:45 pm

My phone beeps. It's Mom, on her cell phone. She gasps for air, clearly freaking out. I tell her I'm ok. I repeat it. I say it at least ten times before she repeats it back to me. I promise I am fine. I tell my story again. Boy, this is getting old, quick... I hear sirens. They are coming for me! My heart races, and I feel relief. I grasp for new details. I try to remember what just happened. I try to piece it together. Things are so fuzzy. I give directions to my exact location. They are moving in my direction, and Dad is on the phone with 911. I tell Mom that the sirens are coming and going – that they cannot find me. She repeats to Dad. Dad repeats to the 911 officer. This is like a bad game of telephone. My arm hurts. And it's oozing. That's disgusting.

9:56 pm

My phone beeps. It's a number I don't recognize.

"Mom, I think this might be the 911 operator – can you hang on?"

I press the green phone button. It is the 911 operator, and we rehash details. I lie on the roof and try see something familiar. I see concrete. And grass. And I smell water. I tell her the sirens keep coming and going. I lay on the horn. And I wait, jamming my belongings into a Target sack so that I can take them with me. I am the only person who would pack their things while they are trapped in a car, upside down.

They cannot find me. I gave you directions, lady! How can you NOT know where I am?! I hear her say something about a helicopter. I'm sorry, what? I look at the ground and see a flickering light.

"Yes, I see the helicopter."

Do I have to pay for a helicopter? I can't afford that! I click over to tell my mother they cannot find me. She says they are exiting Cooks Lane, the turnaround spot, and they'll be right there. I tell her about the helicopter which she sees. They're almost here. They're almost here. They're almost here.

I hear footsteps. Somebody is yelling. I don't even know what they are saying, but I yell back. I yell so loud, my throat hurts. I pound on the windows. I beg for freedom. An officer pulls my door back.

I am in a hole. I see black sky and friendly eyes. He talks, and I talk back. I send a text message to Blake and tell him about the accident. I don't include enough detail. But if I don't say something now, he'll worry later. (Later, I realize this was bad logic.) There is shrieking in my ear. Mom and Dad must be here... I tell whoever is on the phone to tell Dad to go to an officer at the top of the hole, speaking into a walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder. They won't let him close. I beg the officer at my door. I spit out words so fast, I impress myself with my speed.

I can see Dad, and my chest heaves. My eyes well up with tears. I scream with panicked delight. I've never been so happy to see him in all my life... He comes down to the door and puts his fingers in through the cracked door. I squeeze. Hard.

10:14 pm

My phone rings. It's Blake.

"I can't talk right now. They're trying to get me out of the car."

More people have arrived, and they pull my door back a little. I stand up. My knees shake. The officer with kind eyes grabs my oozing arm. I wince and shimmy through the opening.

There are flashing lights all around, and I'm surprised by all of the people looking down at me. Where in the hell have you guys been...

I step around the door to another man who is near the wall of the impossible hole I'm stuck in. He grabs my oozing arm, and I jerk it back, whimpering for him to please not touch it. I see a hand in a blue medical glove in front of my face and instinctively grab it. He pulls me out of the hole.

My parents are beside me. Somebody says something about strapping me to a board. An officer asks questions. I tell Dad not to touch my arm, and he tells me to walk toward the ambulance.

I never look back.