Conversations With My Id

“I really have no clue.  I know it sounds stupid but it all happened so fast.  Oh God.”

The man had stopped conducting himself in the manner he was taught when he had started his new job only six months prior.  An officer was supposed to be in control of any situation regardless of the severity or stress level.  This instance however was one they had not prepared him for.  And if they couldn’t have how was he supposed to?  He was talking to a girl he had just met but wished he hadn’t.  What he had just done was beyond his comprehension and was nowhere near the right frame of mind to explain it to her.  She would be there for a while, he thought, so there was no rush.  Besides, if he waited for backup one of the other officers or perhaps a first responder could tell her.  He was still shaking, on the verge of tears, as she began to speak.

“Wait.  So, what?  I look down to read the screen of my iPod and now my mom is dead or something?  I mean, what the fuck?!”  Her hostility overtook her confusion as the moments passed and reality set in.  The man stared directly into her eyes and saw the realization slowly come upon her: her mother was hurt – badly hurt – and it was no one’s fault but his.

“Well,” he began, biting his lower lip, “I don’t think it’s quite that cut and dry.  I mean, for starters, I mean, accidents happen, right?  Don’t they?”  He asked the last question more for his own piece of mine than hers.  He felt a pit deepening in his chest as he tried to answer the question to the best of his abilities.  When no answer came he feebly repeated, “They do, right?”

“I don’t think I should be talking to you.”  He was momentarily taken back by the fact that this girl was able to keep her head in such a serious situation and silently envied her for it.  “I heard you talking on that shoulder radio thing asking for backup.  When will they be here?  Not long I hope.”

He glanced at his watch.  “Uh, no.  Shouldn’t be too long.  The incident-” he cut himself off and darted his eyes toward the young woman.  She stared blankly back waiting for the information his stutter indicated.  “Um, your mother’s, um.”  He smiled and gave up trying to cushion the words.  “Yes.  Soon.  They should be here soon.  I told them there was still a pulse but the injuries were bad.”  He winced as he said this but the girl’s face remained frozen, seemingly because of irritation instead of the worry he was expecting to see.  Again he went back to his half smile.  No response.  He attempted eye contact.  Again, no response from the pretty girl.  He wasn’t proud that he was rating her looks and smile and body at a time like this, but he didn’t stop.  “My name is Raymond.  Ray.  Rocello.  You can call me Ray.”  He widened his smile to the width of his thin face, giving him the slight appearance of the Scarecrow from Oz.  The only difference was that Ray possessed none of the Scarecrow’s charm.  The girl was deeply involved with her iPod as she leaned against her mother’s car.  She heard him, but instead of answering, only nodded.  She felt no urge to respond or give information about herself.  Instead she inserted one earbud and then the other into her multi-pierced ears and pressed play.  Ray could make out the muffled strains of The Ramones beating from the device.

“I love them,” he said.  She didn’t respond.  “The stuff on the radio was great but the B-sides were the best.”  She took out one earbud and let it fall between her small breasts, which did not go unnoticed by Ray.  She studied him for a long moment before speaking.

“Yeah.  You’re right.  But you probably heard them the first time, right?  I mean, like in the seventies?”

The second question would have been a statement coming from anyone other than her.  Her age wasn’t discernible to him but he was guessing that she was born in the eighties, most likely the late eighties, and only knew of the band by way of her parent’s record collection.  He suddenly remembered that she had asked him a question.  At the risk of dating himself he answered, “Yeah.”  Then, as an afterthought, he added, “But I was really young.”  He chuckled, but it come out as more of a grunt.  She reached for the dangling earbud and tilted her head to the side.

“Holly.  You can call me Friday, everyone does.  So you think my mom’s gonna be alright?”

Just then his radio blared.  “Car 4-6-9 requesting backup.  Is that correct?  Over.”

“Car 4-6-9 here.  Affirmative.  Backup and paramedics needed.  Mile marker sixteen, one-six, I-88 westbound.  Over.”

“Copy that.  They’re on their way.  E.T.A. two minutes.  Over and out 4-6-9.”

“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” he told Friday without looking up from his shoulder.  She was already plugged back into her music.  She nodded, but he couldn’t be sure it was in response to what he had said or just the beat of the music.  He searched for something to say to start a conversation or at the least engage this girl in some activity that would make him believe she cared about the well being of her mother.  “Um, maybe you should go see if your mom needs anything.  I don’t know what we can offer her but I’m sure she could use the company.”  She nodded, but hesitated at first.  Finally, after Ray had helped her cross the almost deserted highway, she walked to the cruiser.  Ray stayed close behind but far enough back that he wouldn’t be in the way.  Neither knew the exact extent of the injuries but they didn’t think they were life threatening.  As she approached the car, Friday took off her headphones and hastily shoved them in her jeans pocket.  The back door was open and she saw her mother’s feet dangling over the edge of the seat.

“Hey mom.  They’re gonna he here soon.”  She peaked though the back window as she spoke and studied her mom.  She had been conscious when they laid her down and she spoke softly as they wiped away as much blood as they could.  There was bloody gash on the left side of her forehead that had clotted crusted over.  The bruises had begun to show almost as soon as she was laid down.  Friday had to force herself to look.  She stared hard at her mother’s chest for signs of breathing and watched it rise and fall many times before reaching out and squeezing her ankle.  “It’s going to be alright mom.  Help is on the way.”  She thought about everything that had just happened and tried to replay the events in her mind.

She and her mom were driving along, arguing as usual, and had a blow out.  She remembered that part clearly.  Her mom for out to check the damage and she changed her music from The Mamas and the Papas to The Ramones.  She knew that for sure.  There as a cop at one of the turnabouts across the three lane highway clocking speeders with a radar gun.  She remembered seeing him clearly.  Her mom told her to stay put and that she was going to get the officer to help.  She saw her mom cross and approach the cop.  That was where her memories stopped.  Maybe her mom and the cop talked or something…there was another car, wasn’t there?  There had to be for this to have happened.  She just couldn’t remember.  She shook her head hard and focused again on her mom, whose breathing had seemed to become more shallow.  She whispered that everything was going to be just fine, more to herself than to her mom.  She had to be the strong one now, which was often the case.  This accident was just one more way for the daughter to tend to the mother.  In the moment that thought crossed her mind she felt a distinct tinge of of hate course though her body right along side the fear and worry for her mother’s well being.  She felt guilty for feeling that way, but only for a moment.  The apprehension melted away as the pierce of the sirens grew nearer.  “Here they are mom.  We’re going to be fine.  Told you so.”  She gave her mom’s ankle one last squeeze and shook it gently.  Silently she screamed for her mother to jump up and comfort her for a change; to stop scaring her daughter to the point of tears again.  Instead of vocalizing any such feelings, she called for Ray to come closer.

He quickly walked to the car and peered in.  “She doesn’t look too hot.  Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”  She said, bristling.  She tugged hard on the hem of her pink hooded sweatshirt and walked to the front of the car.

The ambulance was first to arrive and set in motion a flurry of action that caught Ray by surprise.  The paramedics were yelling to one another and to Ray.  He tried to make out what they were saying, as they seemed to asking him questions about the woman in his back seat, but it was all static to his overwhelmed ears.  The only thing he was able to make out was the male medic ask the female why the hell he moved her in the first place and one of them calling him a moron.  He tried to make himself useful and removed a few road flares from the trunk of the car.  He diverted the traffic to the far lane and set the flares down to give the medics plenty of room.  What little traffic there was seemed to be flying by him faster than before the accident, even with the lane reduction.  Ray went back to his cruiser and saw the medics pulling the stretcher from their vehicle.  Wanting to look more heroic than he had actually been, Ray reached into his car and scooped the woman into his arms.  He could only barely make out the screams of the paramedics as he took the woman’s tiny frame and grasped it into his narrow chest.  An involuntary gargle, ugly, loud and abrupt came from her throat.  The next thing Ray heard made his arms go limp.

“NO!  She’s in shock!  My God – do you wanna kil-”

It was too late.  Ray let go and the woman crumpled to the floor.  The body that only moments before held life, however fragile, now laid limp at Ray’s feet.  He hadn’t realized exactly what he had done until the medics elbowed him out of the way.  They raised the listless body onto the stretcher and quickly pulled a sheet completely over her.  Ray glanced sideways to Friday, who had assumed a posture of disbelief along side the ambulance.  The blank expression and gaping mouth made Ray swallow hard.  She looked like a child, which he supposed she was.

“Did I just kill her mother?” Ray asked to anyone who would answer.  The medics looked at him, then each other, and remained silent.  They loaded her into the ambulance and the man escorted Friday to the cab.  “Did I just take a life?”  Ray asked aloud, this time to no one.

He knew by the looks on the faces of the three people pulling away that the unavoidable answer was yes.