It s cursed, I said as I glared at the black minivan. I m not getting in. there. Yes you are, my Mom responded, as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Transcription

1 PTA Reflections What is Your Story? It s cursed, I said as I glared at the black minivan. I m not getting in there. Yes you are, my Mom responded, as she climbed into the driver's seat. How will you get to school if I don t drive you in this car? It was September 2014, my first day of eighth grade. She was right; I had to get in the car. I climbed into the back seat. I was still too scared to get in the front. The lowest fatality rates are in the rear passenger-side seat. I had researched that. The smell of the car made me nauseous. We were quiet as we pulled out onto the road. My Mom hadn t driven for almost a year. This was hard for her too. I broke the silence with, But I don t ever want to learn to drive. And I m always sitting in the back. My mom assured me that I never had to drive or sit in the front. I wished, for at least the thousandth time, that there had been enough damage to the car for it to be totaled by the insurance company. I had never wanted to see the car again, and now I was in it, smelling it, nauseous. October 30, 2013, was supposed to be a great day. It was a Wednesday morning, the day before Halloween. We had Thursday and Friday off for parentteacher conferences. My octopus Halloween costume was in my lap. The parade was that day, and I hoped to win for most creative costume. I had made the eight

2 legs with long purple balloons, the kind they use to make balloon animals. I was in the back of the car. My Mom and I were talking about the new song Thrift Shop by Macklemore. Everything was perfect. Then came the explosion, or at least I thought there was a bomb. We lurched to the right, and my biggest dog tumbled on to me from the opposite seat. I remember feeling his weight on my head and hearing the octopus legs pop as he scrambled to get up. My Mom was driving me to school that morning. Kim Stephens was driving her three-month-old baby to daycare. It was going to be Kim s first day back at work since having the baby. She didn t want to bring her to a daycare center. She didn t want to go back to work. She and her husband had been arguing for weeks about whether she had to go back to work. That morning they were still arguing, but not in their kitchen or over the phone while he was at his office. They were arguing by text. Kim was crying as she texted her husband. It s too long of a day. I don t th That was the text she was writing when she went through a stop sign at 38 miles per hour and drove her Land Rover into the driver s door of our minivan, crushing the door. The side-impact air bags did not deploy, because the impact was so severe. I got the dog off of me. Our car was still moving. My Mom s foot was still 2

3 3 on the gas pedal. I screamed at her. We were headed straight for a fence. My Mom s head was hanging sideways over what was left of the car door, and she looked dead. There was glass all over her. The car went up onto the curb and through the fence. We hit a tree, which stopped the car. That impact caused the airbag to blow out of the steering wheel and hit my Mom. That woke her up, and she called out to me. My Mom, my world, was alive. People stopped their cars and gathered around our car. My shoulder hurt. I remember a man standing at the side window and asking me about my dogs. Later I realized that he and the other people on my side of the car were trying to distract me so I didn t look at my Mom. I remember hearing her crying, Is my daughter okay? and then she was vomiting, and people were yelling, Get the board. We need to board her now. The first person we knew who passed the accident was an eighth grader at my school. His mother came to my side of the car and told me she was going to take me. I didn t really understand, but I did what she said. A man helped us get the door open, and he got my backpack for me. As I climbed into the Wallers car I noticed the all of the fire trucks, police cars, so many ambulances, and so many people. I went into shock as we drove to school. By the time we

4 4 got there, I had forgotten what had happened, an effect of shock. I was in homeroom when my advisor came and asked if I had been in a car accident on the way to school. I started to cry and then I couldn t breathe. They told me that the head of school was taking me to the hospital to be seen by a doctor right away. No one but a paramedic should have taken me out of the car. The people who took me out were trying to protect me, but I might have been hurt. As soon as we arrived, they took me to a room. My Dad was there seconds later. I had seatbelt bruises and a bruised clavicle, but no major injuries. I was in shock, but I would be fine. My Mom was not fine. She had a severe concussion and back injuries. After my examination and x-rays, they brought me to her. My Mom could talk to me, but she could not move. She was strapped to a board. I remember wondering why the board was orange, a really ugly bright orange. My Mom didn t remember anything. She kept asking me what had happened. Each time I finished telling her, a minute or two later, she would ask again. I was scared. Everyone kept saying that my Mom had hit her head but would be fine once the swelling went down. People kept coming to talk to us. Three different police officers asked what happened. I wanted to go back to school. I look back on it now, and I don t know why I didn t stay at the hospital

5 5 with my Mom. I went back with the middle school head. I guess I wanted to reforget what had happened and go back to my normal life. I had no idea how long it would be until my life would be normal. I stayed at a friend s house until Friday. Then her Dad drove me to another friend s house. People kept telling me that my Mom was fine, but it was easier for my Dad to take care of her if I stayed with them. I could talk to my Mom on the phone, so I knew she was okay. When my Mom came home, there was always a nurse at our house. I went home with a different friend each day of the week, and my Dad would pick me up after work. There was a schedule for whose house I went to on which day. It stopped being fun. I missed my Mom, my house, my dogs, dinners with my parents. My Mom was in bed for four months. She only got up to see doctors. If it wasn t a doctor day, my dad or the nurse gave her pills, and she slept. By June 2014, nine months after the accident, life was getting back to normal. My Mom still couldn t drive or teach, but she could take a week from physical and occupational therapy to visit her Dad. We were all excited for our trip to South Carolina. My best friend Christiana was coming. My parents picked us up on the last day of school, and we got on I-95 south. I was telling

6 6 Christiana all about Carowinds, an amusement park near my grandfather s house. My little dog, Sammy, was in my lap. Everything was perfect. Then came the explosion. This time I knew there was no bomb. We were on our way to visit my grandfather. Taylor Laramie was on her way to visit her parents. Taylor s sister texted her to ask how far she was. should b That was the text Taylor was sending in response to her sister when she hit the median, and her car spun out of control into our lane. The investigators who re-created the accident for the investigation determined that Taylor had been driving at least 90 miles per hour. My Dad was going 60 miles per hour when we had no choice but to hit her. A car accident on a Friday evening on 95 is very different from a car accident on a Wednesday morning in Alexandria. There were helicopters. People were screaming. So many people were around our car. Everything was louder, crazier, scarier. However, one thing was exactly the same. The board was orange, that really ugly bright orange. They took my Mom out of the car strapped to the exact same kind of board. I will never forget that orange. My Mom has recovered from her concussions. She has five damaged spinal vertebrae. She already has arthritis in all five, but she went back to

7 7 teaching in September of Last spring she planted a garden again. We started hiking again at about the same time. Her headaches have mostly stopped. Had she not driven into us, Kim Stephens would ve dropped her baby off and gone to work, where she was a respected court psychiatrist. Instead she went into severe shock and got out of her car, leaving it running, in gear, in a busy intersection. She did not want to leave her new baby at daycare, but she left her in the back of a running car. She was found guilty of negligence in the care of a minor with substantial risk of death, disfigurement, or impairment of bodily functions to that minor. She lost her driver s license and can never drive in the United States again. Because of the negligence conviction, she lost her license to practice medicine. She and her husband went into bankruptcy when my parents insurance companies sued them in a subrogation lawsuit. Since Kim was at fault, and her insurance liability coverage was not enough, she was responsible for my Mom s medical bills, which were high. The Stephens couldn t pay the money for the insurance lawsuits. They lost their house. When people ask my Mom why she didn t sue, she says, They have suffered enough. More than I have.

8 Taylor Laramie spent six months recovering from her injuries. She pleaded guilty to reckless driving, failure to control a motor vehicle, and driving while distracted. Her driver s license was suspended for 30 days. Her insurance company paid to fix our car, for my Mom s medical bills, and for me to see a therapist for PTSD. Her parents sent my parents $10,000 to apologize. We still have the old black minivan. I know it s not cursed. In 2013 it was one of 2,430,808 cars in the United States involved in an accident caused by a texting driver. In 2014 it was one of 3,104,664. The numbers get higher every year. Those numbers make it likely that an American will be involved in more than one accident caused by a texting driver. No cursed minivan, just bad timing and basic statistical math. I am good at math. In June I got my learner s permit, then I ll get my license next March. I understand that the math says I am likely to be involved in a third accident caused by a texting driver. I ll hear that explosion again. I ll know right away that there was no bomb. And I am sure that mine will not be the phone with the partially written, unsent text. 8