For those of you who are fans of foxfire, I'll simply pick up where he left off. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then checkout http://www.livejournal.com/users/foxfire/.
So, after observing another writer observing the characters in the room, I gave him my blog address, said good-night to everyone and headed home to walk my dog. Moments later I found myself colliding with a honda full of teenage boys. The driver had failed to yeild to on-coming traffic while making a left turn. I was entering the intersection when he turned right in front of me. My foot slammed onto the breaks, and my hand onto the horn, but there was no time to stop. The driver froze like a deer in headlights, and three young faces stared right at me as my car slammed into them. It happened so fast, and yet time seemed to slow. My body tensed as I prepared myself for the inevitable impact which was only confirmed by the thunderous crashing of metal and plastic that followed.
The driver got out of his car and ran over to me to see if I was alright. I felt really irritated. I didn't want to get out of my car. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to see his little brother and their friend stumble out of the car in their movie theatre uniforms looking shocked and drowsy. I just wanted to go back in time and decide to leave a few moments earlier or later to avoid the collision. I looked at the other driver. He looked to be about 17 years old. He was asian, and wore a wooden cross around his neck. He wanted to do the right thing, but he was scared. He asked if he should call the police and said yes. The police told him that if nobody was injured we should just exchange information and go on our ways. I felt incredibly uncomfortable at this suggestion and insisted that he call the police back and request a police report.
It took about an hour for the police man to arrive. In that time I sat in my car, which I had moved out of the intersection and into a nearby parking lot, and watched the young driver stare straight forward, then alternately straight at me. I could tell what he was thinking was something along the lines of "my parents are going to be so pissed..." and "I hope that girl is alright." I honestly felt for him, but was begining to feel for myself. My neck started aching and my whole body was kind of tense and shaky. The initial shock was begining to wear off, and I felt very tired. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep, but I kept waiting.
The wait was excruciating for another reason. I realized that I didn't really have anybody to call.... nobody to come be with me in this moment where the speed at which everything can change had been demonstrated to me, albeit relatively harmlessly. I made several phone calls, but nobody was answering. At last I decided to call my friend Erik in New York.
Erik and I had only met in person twice, but had gotten to know eachother long-distance through many late-night phone conversations. A few months or so ago, I helped talk him out of reinlisting in the military which would have innevitably sent him back to the war that had already claimed several chunks of his neck and chest and perhaps a more sizable chunk of his sanity (not to mention several friends). Since then we had been discussing the possibility of my paying him a visit in New York. He finaly finished his military duty and got a place about twenty miles outside of Manhattan and had started working as a wage slave in some shitty job and making music with his old guitar player from his old project "isolate".
Erik seemed concerned and asked me to call him back when the police interaction was over to let him know how it had gone. I waited till I got home and called him back. It was getting pretty late at this point, but my mind was reeling. There was no way I could have slept, so we talked for hours. We talked about what we would do when I came to visit.... the things I'd like to see, and the places he'd like to show me. We talked about collaborating musicly, and getting some video footage for a documentary project we had discussed previously. As the night wore on, and we imagined spending four days in one anothers company, the conversation became more intimate. Before long I moved into my bedroom and laid down in the dark to continue the conversation. As it started to turn erotic, I noticed my cell battery was dying. I told him I'd call him back when it had charged a bit. By the time it did, we had both gotten ourselves rather worked up. The conversation elevated to.. lets say... steamy, and the battery died again. It went on like this for some time till we had both achieved release. It seemed to be just what I needed to come down from the adreneline buzz from the accident. I went to sleep at last.
The next morning Erik called and woke me up to tell me that he no longer wanted me to come and visit him in New York. I was half asleep and didn't really understand the sudden change, but he uttered something incoherant about my previous relationships with two of his friends. His tone was accusatory, and I suddenly got the feeling that he was a man who was incapable of respecting a woman who is expressive of her sexuality. In this morning after haze, my body was begining to feel the effects of the accident, and I was feeling the sting of betrayal from the one friend I had who was there for me when I had needed him the night before.
I groaned and called my workplace to inform them that I had been in an accident and would be taking the day off to see a doctor.
