Learning to Cry

by Christopher C. Payne

  We had parked in the public parking lot on the corner of El Camino Real as we always did. It was less than a block from the restaurant. We walked back to our car after dinner, and everyone got in. I pulled out of the lot without a thought. It is funny how you remember all of the details of the strangest things. The red hair clips in Amelia’s hair, the headphones cocked back on Cassandra’s head as she listened to TV in the background. Melissa as she sat lip syncing to the song on the satellite radio. It was all there as vivid as if it were happening right now. It seems so real, like I could reach out and touch any one of them.

  As we headed north on El Camino Real, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the girls arguing over something. Karen brushed her hand through my hair as she so often did. It sends a chill down my spine as I can almost feel the tips of her fingernails as they skim seductively over my scalp. It isn’t the things that I saw that affected me that evening. It is the things that I missed seeing that haunt my dreams and make my hands shake uncontrollably.

  I missed the red light warning me to stop. How often is it that a person misses a red light? I can’t remember running a red light since I became an adult and figured out how to drive responsibly. You just don’t miss red lights. What about the other car coming through the intersection? Surely one would see that before it was too late. I guess not everyone does or how would accidents occur? I can’t even remember even speeding on that road, but maybe going 45 miles an hour in a 35 mile an hour zone is normal, and you don’t realize it most times. I now know at 45 miles an hour there can be considerable damage done to a car and people upon impact.

  I now also understand what they mean when the say that everything freezes in slow motion as you realize you are about to be in an accident. The entire world stops, and all that you see, or understand, gets mired in a frame by frame depiction of your actions.

  Melvin was driving his dark Blue Honda SUV. We were only a few blocks from our respective homes. Sandra was in the passenger seat, and it looked as if she was talking on the phone. She never even looked up or understood what was happening. She just sat there chatting away in the safety and comfort of her vehicle. She never suspected what was a mere few seconds away that would change her life forever. Melvin saw. It was as if he looked directly in my eyes. It was as if he stared at me, asking me why. His mouth opened but before he was able to voice anything, we reached impact.

  Marcia and Rachel were in the back seat, and they took the brunt of the blow. Their car was halfway into the intersection when we collided. They were in the processing of turning right, and we hit Marcia directly. The police said she died upon impact, but I know that is not entirely true. I saw her face as the hood of my car crumpled into the back driver side door. It was like a heat-seeking missile, colliding with its victim. I saw the recognition in her eyes as the door and window collapsed on top of her. I saw the thousand shards of glass spraying directly in her face. They were like little specks of snowflakes in a stiff breeze being blown in her direction.

  The pain was there. It was real. She felt it sear into her being a second before she died. I don’t think anyone can die instantly. There are always a few seconds or even a second of life where the understanding takes hold and you come face-to-face with the end. It should never happen at the young age of 6, but we don’t always get to pick our paths.

  Rachel was a slightly different story. She should have survived, really. I kept hearing that it was such a fluke. Somehow the window frame broke off and hit her seat belt at just the right angel, slicing it completely through. Her entire booster seat shot like a gun, bursting the window on the other side and launched her skyward. It reminded me of those amusement park rides where you sit in a seat and fly up in the air a few times. Dropping half way down, then back up, then dropping again. Rachel’s seat went up once, made a high arch and then plummeted back to the pavement.

  Everything is about chance and timing – the fire hydrant was right there. Her seat flipped over. How she happened to land on her head with the hydrant impacting her skull was anyone’s guess, but it happened. What are the odds? Melvin and Sandra most likely don’t care about odds. How can you care about what might have happened, or what should have happened when the only two children you have are no longer alive. Within the span of seconds, they were now both dead.

  I wasn’t the only one who witnessed this destruction. Melissa’s eyes were the last thing I remember seeing. Looking in my rear-view mirror and watching her face contort in horror and realization of what was occurring was sign enough that she understood. To see two little kids die at such a young age is something nobody should ever have to witness.

  I think of all the times my children talked about smoking and the ill effects. Every adult they met and spoke with who smoked was given a lecture. They were always so good about understanding the ramifications of cancer and what smoking would do. I wonder why we all didn’t spend more time talking to them about drinking and driving. Would it have mattered? I didn’t feel drunk when I left the restaurant. I only had three drinks. I wasn’t even light-headed.

  When I woke, I was laying on the pavement with a blanket covering my lower body. I had blood covering most of my clothes, but I soon learned that I was spared any severe injuries. Karen had a broken right arm, some minor cuts and gashes, but she too would make it out with no lasting physical damage. Cassandra and Amelia were fine. A couple of little cuts but they saw nothing preventing them from heading off to a school dance, once the shock wore off.

  Melissa, on the other hand, was having a convulsion. There were two people holding me down, otherwise I would have gotten up and tried to help her. They were putting her on a gurney and trying to strap her down. All of her appendages were flying in different directions. It literally took five individuals to get her safely secured in the back of the ambulance. We were all headed to the same hospital. Karen was already on her way, apparently having been taken while I was still unconscious. The police were there but were not asking me any questions at that point.

  All of us were shipped off to Mills Peninsula. It was the closest hospital. I tried to remember what happened on the drive over, but my mind was a little foggy at the time. It wasn’t until we arrived that I had the presence to ask about Marcia and Rachel. I already knew the answer even though nobody would look me in the eye and tell me anything directly. Were they trying to spare my feelings? What did it matter at this point if I knew now or later that I had killed two little girls? Not just two random girls, but two little girls who knew my family, who ate at my house, who I had admired and loved.

  Cheryl came to pick up Amelia and Cassandra. They were actually allowed to go home. There was nothing physically wrong, and they still had no idea what had even occurred. It reminded me of the time when Karen was rear-ended by another car, and all three girls had been in the back seat. Karen had to actually tell them they had been in a car accident. They are so lost in thought at times, they really don’t see the trees for the forest.

  While I was not suffering any real physical damage I was given several tests. One test, which I was to find out later, was a blood alcohol test which registered 0.13. Not overly intoxicated, but well above the legal limit. When the police learned the test results, they read me my rights and arrested me right there at the hospital. The shock of going from Mills Peninsula to a jail cell was rather sobering. I woke up in the middle of the night, expecting to see Karen lying next to me, and all I saw was the cold hard concrete wall and the iron bars containing me.

  I had never been in jail until then. I had only been in a hospital once, for my back surgery a few years before, and that was only one night. I had no idea what was happening. I was on the brink of getting my life turned around one minute, only to watch everything I had ever loved be torn from my grasp the next. I wasn’t stupid. I realized nothing was ever going to be the same. The lives of everyone who knew me would be drastically changed. I don’t think I fully understood to what extent, but I knew deep down that everything was dif
ferent.

  I cried that entire night, the next day, and I suddenly could no longer stop the tears from streaming down my face. What had once eluded me only several months before was now so easy and natural it just erupted spontaneously. I, admittedly, was crying for myself to some extent, but I was also crying for those two little girls, for Karen, for my daughters, for the guy who saw everything as he stood by the crosswalk waiting for the signal to switch allowing him to pass. My world was torn from me, and there was nobody looking back to blame but myself. I was responsible. I would no longer be there for my daughters, I would no longer need a job, I would no longer be the person who made breakfast. I was now nothing more than the next guy named in the local newspaper who would spend a few years in jail.

  Was this my 15 minutes of fame? To be remembered for the deaths of two beautiful little girls.

  Hospital

  Melissa

  Three days later Melissa woke up not fully understanding where she was or what had happened. She felt different, but she couldn’t comprehend the scope of what was going on. Her mother was sitting in a chair, talking on her cell phone. Her mother seemed to always have a cell phone glued to her hand. Her grandmother was outside the door, and she was talking with Karen of all people. It was always odd when Karen was around her mother or her mother’s relatives. It just didn’t seem natural.

  Melissa felt groggy, probably from the drugs she was being given. She saw the IV sticking out of her arm. She would never forget what an IV was. When she had been 11 years old, she woke up in the middle of the night with a gut wrenching stomach ache. She got her mom and dad and finally convinced them that something very serious was wrong with her. They had called her aunt to come over and watch her two sisters, and they all made a trip to the hospital.

  When they arrived Melissa was placed on a bed and a nurse inserted a needle into her arm. At the time, she was told it was precautionary. Just in case she needed some medication quickly the needle was already in place and the opening was available. They ran some tests and everything was fine, so she had been allowed to go home. The nurse had removed the needle from her arm and she had been told this was an IV. It had hurt her so badly for a couple of hours she couldn’t stand it at the time. She remembered what the IV was but was surprised she now felt no pain. Really, she felt nothing at all in any part of her body.

  Karen was the first to see her moving and yelled so loud it shocked Melissa. Then her grandmother gained recognition and lastly her mother, who then hung up her phone. They all crowded around her bed with Karen leaving for a few minutes to apparently tell the doctor. Later she would find out she had been in a coma, most likely induced from the shock of the car accident. The dreaded car accident. There were always going to be defining moments in anyone’s life, and that day would have a lasting impact on so many it was hard to fathom.

  It was her mother who explained the story in detail, and this apparently frustrated both Karen and her grandmother. They felt Cheryl should have waited until Melissa gained her strength. Now that she was out of the coma, this would happen quickly, but she had to stay in the hospital for several more days to be sure. She reflexively smiled when Amelia and Cassandra came bouncing into the room with her grandfather in tow. He had just taken them down to get some ice cream from the diner on the first level.

  As her mother unfolded the story, Melissa remembered a small fraction of the event, but the details were far beyond her grasp. Maybe that was best considering the outcome. Cheryl told her that Marcia and Rachel had both died, but everyone else made it out ok. It was a fluke really that it was fatal, but that seemed like such a casual way to describe the deaths of two little girls. Sorry kids, you shouldn’t have died, but you drew the unlucky straw, and this was just your day to say good-bye.

  The difficult news was about her father. Throughout all of their ups and downs, Melissa had always known that one day they would repair their relationship and make things right. She hated him at times, but she loved him, as well. Maybe that was what made life so difficult. If the bad guys were all bad and the good guys were all good then it would always be easy to pick the hero. The real world didn’t seem to follow that pattern very well.

  Her father was in jail and had been arrested for drunk driving. He should actually be out on bail tomorrow. He should have been out quicker, but it was taking a while to rummage up the funds needed to post bail, and he was attempting to find an attorney. His parents had flown out yesterday and were helping with the financial aspect. All her father’s money had gone away in the divorce. It was a little too much for Melissa to understand. She had lost track of the details when she heard her father was in jail. It didn’t seem right for him to be in prison.

  It wasn’t like he had murdered anyone. Granted the two girls were dead, but he hadn’t shot them. He hadn’t grabbed them by the throat and strangled them. All Melissa could think about was how her dad used to always tell her that one instant could change your life. If you were ever in the wrong place at the wrong time then you might find yourself at the bad end of something going very badly. He was always telling her this to warn her of the consequences of her decisions. Was it ironic that it was now he who was getting force-fed his own advice?

  Melissa cried. She couldn’t help herself and now just wanted her mom to shut up. It wasn’t right hearing all of this. It wasn’t right that her dad should be punished. She yelled for everyone to get out. She screamed and still her mother would not leave. Finally, the nurses made her family exit, and it was only then she asked them if Karen could return. It took a few minutes to find her again. She left when Cheryl began her inappropriate speech. But when she entered she reached down and hugged Melissa. She didn’t say anything, she just hugged her.

  Melissa was beginning to understand why her father loved this lady. She just seemed to always be there. She could keep her mouth closed when needed, which was something nobody in her family, including her father, seemed to be able to do. Everyone in this domestic unit always had to have the last word. Maybe that was both a blessing and a curse.

  It was then that Melissa realized the voices were gone. There was nothing in her head but her own thoughts. Maybe that was the way it had always been, but now it seemed different. They had been silent before but never really gone. Days had passed before without her hearing them, but she always felt they were there. It was different today. It was like they had moved on to torture some other poor lost soul, but she was finally freed.

  She didn’t know it at the time, but she would never hear those voices again. Maybe it wasn’t only those two little girls who died in the accident. Maybe somehow something had managed to find its way inside of her head and kill off Scott, Dana, and Mike. Maybe it was the shock of what happened that changed her or maybe it was the realization that she was going to be on her own very shortly and her father was no longer going to be there to hold her hand.

  Even when he was not with her, even when she was living with her mother, he had always been a phone call away or a short drive from being able to help her out. She didn’t understand completely what was happening, but she did understand he might be going to jail. Karen kept stroking her head, telling her not to worry. Somehow it was all going to work out. Somehow life would find a way of settling the debt, and everyone would move on. She was at least honest with Melissa and told her that it was true, her father might have to go to jail for a while. It would be a long few months, but they would figure things out.

  Father

  When I walked out of the jail and saw my father standing there I had no words. He was crying along with my mother, and I simply hugged them and asked to see my kids. Melissa was in the hospital so we drove there first. I was filled in along the way on the basics and understood that she had a few more days before she would be released, but she would be fine. Karen had her arm in a cast, but she and the girls would make it through, as well. I already knew the rest and had no desire to discuss it at that point.

  It seems odd that you read about
the obesity problem almost every day in the newspapers. The media talks constantly about how America is gaining weight, and we are all in jeopardy of escalating medical expenses because of it. I say send everyone to prison for a few days. I lost close to 15 pounds in less than a week. I don’t think there is a diet that gets any better results than that. What little food I managed to swallow resurfaced a few minutes later. It was a wonder I was able to walk at all.

  Cheryl screamed over the phone at my mother as we drove to the hospital. Apparently she didn’t want me seeing any of the children, and I was to go nowhere near Melissa. Leave it to her to make a bad situation worse. She did have the ability to lower the bar in all circumstances. I really didn’t like that woman on any level.

  I was told that Karen had remained at the hospital. Melissa requested that she stay and that was also part of the problem with Cheryl. She was beside herself that Karen seemed to be the only person who was having a calming effect on my oldest daughter. I just sat in the back seat, being driven by my parents, wondering how I had ended up where I was. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I almost felt emotionally dried up. How much did I have left in me to face what was coming?

  When I saw her lying there in the hospital bed, I lost control. I grabbed her and cried. My whole body shook. Everyone else left the room and closed the door as we held each other. I kept saying I was sorry.

  “I am so sorry, big girl. I swear, I am so sorry.”

  She kept saying the same thing back as I tried to tell her to be strong.

  “I love you honey, and you will make it out of this I promise,” I whispered.

  I finally crawled into bed with her, lying next to her. We just held each other.

  You never think about your actions inadvertently hurting your children. Yes, if you hit one of them, or if you beat them with a bat, everyone can understand that. There is a direct result, an immediate consequence, but having a couple of drinks and driving home, what is the harm in that, right? I just didn’t understand at the time. I knew the rules and what not to do, but I didn’t get it. I just wanted to scream at the top of my voice.