She looked out the window, seeing one village after the other disappear from her view. One more day and it will be October. The trees were dressed in gold and scarlet, and they seemed sadder with every leaf that fell. She did not have enough time to observe the simplicity of village life, as the car sped toward the destination. They were returning home after a short visit to Iasi, where his brother and his wife lived. His parents had accompanied them, and now everyone was chatting merrily in the confined space of the car. Talking, it appeared, was necessary for time to pass faster. She did not necessarily share that opinion.
In fact, she enjoyed sitting in her seat and giving herself to a pleasant reverie, while her husband – probably one of the best drivers in the world – expertly guided the car on the road, as to reach their destination safely. The music on the radio guided her thoughts – detached from reality, she thought about nothing and everything. Her mind became a labyrinth, with a complex series of pathways, and she explored each artery with delight. From time to time, she was brought back to reality by his parents, who kept asking questions. She offered a monosyllabic answer, and then settled back in her seat, returning to the satisfying, almost intoxicating state of absent-mindedness.
She would have liked to read, especially since each trip to Iasi meant a visit to one of her favorite bookshops. It would have been impossible to leave the city without one, two or… ten books. But the car travel made her sick, so reading was out of the question. Upon attempting to fix her eyes on a certain line in a book, she would feel a severe headache coming on, followed by intense nausea. She had to stop otherwise her discomfort would only become worse. Oh, how she envied those who could ready anywhere, be it the bus, train or car.
For the five years she was away at university, she had stubbornly struggled to read while traveling in the subway, but a nauseating sensation overpowered her every time. She switched to music and found refuge in the gentle, soothing rhythm of the ballades she uploaded every morning to her player.
An eternity appeared to have passed since she graduated, even though it was only a year. Now, she was studying for her master’s degree, which meant frequent trips to Iasi, the city that had given the world so many people of value. George Emil Palade, the scientist who specialized in cell biology, receiving the Nobel Prize for physiology/medicine in 1974. Emil Racovita, a great explorer and the founder of biospeleology. Theodor Pallady, a talented painter, who was greatly influenced by Gustave Moreau.
The city was a mystery for her, as she never had enough time to explore it. She had visited Copou Park, where she had seen the old linden tree associated with the famous Romanian poet, Mihai Eminescu – it was the meeting point with his great love, Veronica Micle, or his ever-devoted friend, the writer Ion Creanga. Researchers had confirmed that the tree was over 500 years old, and she liked knowing that a tree could have been around for that long. It gave her comfort in a world that was changing by the minute.
Iasi was a city with a rich culture and history, and, for her, it was a place where she felt right at home. Her brother-in-law and his wife welcomed them each time – they were salt-of-the-earth people, going to great lengths to make them feel comfortable. She liked the quiet of their apartment, it soothed her.
Whenever she visited someone’s home, it took her no more than a minute to decide how the respective place made her feel. If there was a lot of negative energy in that house, she instantly sensed she could not stay there. Otherwise, she would begin to experience physical symptoms, such as headaches, nausea or fatigue.
The apartment in which she was frequently accommodated was abundantly filled with positive energy. It was always tidy and organized, and she envied the immaculateness it exuded. Her own home did not seem to stay clean or in order for more than a day. But it was a work in progress, she acknowledged, and so was she.
Now, as they were driving back home, her mind drifted to a tiny cobblestone street near the Copou Park. It was lined on both sides by old trees – their branches met in the middle, forming a luxuriant green tunnel. She had a habit of gathering images of places she visited and loved in a virtual album. Whenever she was bored, stressed or sad beyond measure, she would retrieve an image from her album and she would instantly feel better.
Years later, when she would have to go through an MRI investigation, which caused her to feel claustrophobic – especially because of the helmet placed over her face and fastened with a small belt – she used the image of a street adorned with pink-colored rosebushes to calm herself. It amazed her how those images were always accompanied by sounds, scents, and even movements. She closed her eyes and imagined walking on that street, touching the delicate roses and taking in the overpowering scent. It’s not for nothing that they say the olfactory memory is the strongest.
They had not covered a great distance but, somehow, a lot of time seemed to have passed. And, in about a minute, everything was about to change. If you have ever been involved in a car accident, you probably know that time appears to slow down. Initially, you cling to the hope that it will not happen, and you will continue your journey unperturbed. Then, all of a sudden, everything begins to unfold at an incredible speed. You are no longer in control, it is out of your hands. Brace for impact – this is the standard phrase stewardesses and pilots use in emergencies, more specifically when a plane is about to crash. On the ground, there is no one to tell you to prepare for impact but you do it anyway. The survival instinct kicks in and you do what it takes to survive.
A bend came in the road, in a village that looked as if it was abandoned. She saw a car braking forcefully and, for a moment, she thought that was that. But other cars came behind at a high speed, and they too wanted to avoid an impact. They avoided the car but ended up on their side of the road. She held her breath, watching everything happen as if it was a movie shot in slow-motion.
The cars managed to return to the other lane, but, in a second, they steered right, to make room for one of those large intercity buses. The coach came at an even greater speed, a huge green monster made of steel; it had an insatiable appetite, seeming prepared to swallow their car whole. She had never been in a car accident, and, even in those moments, she could not believe what was happening.
The people on the bus were on her mind, and how they will be affected by the crash. They were so many – she had traveled in coaches, always fearing an accident might occur. The drivers were often reckless, speeding, not paying attention to the road or allowing themselves to be distracted by their phones. She shuddered as she imagined the worst.
In a moment of clarity, though, she realized that the crash would affect them more. They were in a small passenger car, and the coach would probably transform it in a pile of junk. Survival of the fittest. Or the biggest, she thought, as she braced for impact.
She shouted at her boyfriend that they will collide with the coach and, even though it was the kind of situation where nothing else seemed to matter, the still found a moment to analyze her voice. She hated how she sounded; in the movies, when such scenes were shot, the female characters had such strong voices, their interpretation adding to the dramatic effect of the respective scene. Her voice had come out all squeakily as if she were a scared mouse and not a full-grown woman. How disappointing!
Grabbing the handle of the door with as much force as she was capable of, she used her other hand to hold on to the seat belt. Affected by despair, we do cling onto things that do not really make a difference but our brain simply refuses to accept how powerless we are in the face of death. In those moments, right before the impact, her brain had decided that holding on to a plastic handle would help her survive. It was a life vest of some sort but there was no way of knowing whether it would work or not.
Her boyfriend swerved to avoid the impact with the coach and the car skidded on the damp grass. Probably more desperately clinging to life than her, he vainly tried to brake. They were going to crash into some trees on the side of the road and, beyond that, laid the great unknown.
A small eternity must have passed. Time rolled infinitely slow, the car was moving but, somehow, it remained still at the same time. Then, the strangest thing happened to her. She had read about other people describing the very exact experience but she found it hard to believe in its occurrence. A creature of a pragmatic nature, she stood with her feet firmly planted on the ground and acted like a sarcastic non-believer. Surreal was the word she would have chosen to describe her life at that precise moment.
The film of her life unfolded in front of her eyes. It even had those margins seen in a film strip, and it was placed against a black background. She saw herself as a small child, suffering an accident while playing in a swing and losing the little finger from her right hand. Finishing kindergarten and starting school. Wearing a crown of flowers when graduating from primary school, which her mother had made from fresh roses. Finding out she was accepted into the best high school in town, with her dad giving her the happy news. Going to college.
There were many other brief memories from various parts of her life. The last image was of her dad, who had died a year before. Her eyes filled with tears, as she knew – she was going to die. He was there to make the whole dying business easier. They were to see each other again, much faster than she thought or hoped.
One will never forget the sound a car makes upon crashing into a tree. It is peculiar, crisp and full of meaning, conveying exactly what happened. It is the sound of metal atoms being rearranged and redistributed, while you try to make sense of the same thing occurring in your being. Your self is going through a reset process, not only physically but also mentally.
The airbag almost touched her face but she remained in place, thanks to the seat belt which was fastened. His airbag did not go off and, by a miracle, he did not have any injuries. In the back, his parents had suffered minor damage – his dad had hurt his nose, as the impact caused his head to come in contact with her headrest, and he was slightly bleeding. His mother’s leg was bruised but it was nothing serious, she could move it without effort. As for her, she was fine, except for a strange sensation of pressure in her ears – she went over her entire body and she breathed in relief, as there was no bleeding. Nothing was fractured and there weren’t other visible injuries.
Smoke was coming from the front part of the car. Fearing an explosion might occur and still pumped from the rush of adrenaline, she got everyone out of the car. They distanced themselves but her boyfriend went back and used the fire extinguisher, hoping to prevent the actual implosion. The smoke mixed with the white foam, creating an eerie image.
They called 112, the emergency number, and waited for the police and the ambulance. As soon as she made sure everyone was alright, she rushed back to the car. Her books were in the trunk, waiting patiently to be recovered. The damage caused by the accident was extensive but it did not affect the rear. She found the several fiction books and encyclopedias she had bought to be in perfect condition.
His parents were taken to the hospital, while her boyfriend went to the police station to give a statement. Even though he was visibly shaken, he did not have a choice, as this was standard procedure. And she? She was left to guard the car until the tow truck came.
Everyone in the village had gathered at the scene of the accident. Normally, it was dead quiet, nothing of importance took place there, ever. Upon hearing the sound of a car crashing into something, they had come to see the accident with their own eyes. They talked among themselves, making suppositions on how the crash occurred. But, one by one, they returned to their homes, as they had exploited the subject to the maximum and now they wanted to share their news with other people.
All of a sudden, she was alone. The sun was beginning to set and it was getting chilly. She recalled how, minutes after the accident, she took the phone he had left out of her pocket and dialed the only number she knew by heart: her mother’s. Upon hearing her voice, she carefully considered her words. Mothers will always worry about their children, especially in such situations.
Even though she had no children yet, she knew that the news of being in an accident could through her mother in a heightened state of anxiety. She asked her not to worry and then proceeded to tell her everything. They did not talk for too long, as her phone battery was low. She would call later when she would get back to Iasi.
By now, it was getting dark, and the utter silence added to the anxiety she felt. Her phone eventually died, which made everything worse. She would have liked to cry and set some of those pent-up emotions free but, despite everything she went through, no tears would come.
The car looked as if it was part of an action movie, used for exactly the scene of an accident. The front part was totaled, the mirror on the driver’s side was destroyed and the deflated airbags served as reminders of the actual impact. She could have waited in the car but she trembled just at the idea.
Behind the trees into which they crashed, there was a valley where grapevine was cultivated. Each was supported by a wooden stake, which was deeply planted into the ground. She then realized that, had it not been for those trees, they would have probably suffered a more gruesome faith. The car would have probably rolled over in that valley, reducing their chances of survival to zero. It was God who saved them, she concluded, because it was just not their time. And, anyway, she rather imagined herself growing old and dying in her sleep, after having lived a full life – the kind that is worth living, filled with love, friendship, and passion.
She stood on the side of the road and glanced at every car that went by, hoping it will be the tow truck. It was late at night when the truck finally came. The driver was friendly and promised he will take her back to the city, more specifically, to the police station where her boyfriend had been taken. The last thing she wanted was speed, so she made sure to ask the driver to stay within the limit. She had had enough excitement for the day, perhaps to last her a lifetime.
The car went up the platform, looking more dejected than ever. Or maybe she was just projecting her feelings onto it. Upon getting into the tow truck, her first thought was to put on the seat belt. She was taken aback by its absence and spoke to the driver about her worry. The man smiled reassuringly and told her that the tow truck was not equipped with seat belts. It seemed a cruel joke, as it was her seat belt which prevented her from going through the windshield when they crashed. But she did not have a choice, so she closed her eyes and prayed they would reach the police station faster.
When they went up and down the hills, with the darkness preventing them from seeing too far ahead, she held onto the door handle as if her life depended on it. Finally, they reached the police station, and she saw that her boyfriend waited for her. They had tested him for alcohol and took a statement. Now, she had to give on as well. The police officers looked bored and asked her to be succinct. They just probably wanted to go back to sleep, she thought. For them, it was just another case. They did not allow themselves to care, otherwise, it would be been impossible to do their job. She relived the whole accident upon writing those few lines on a white sheet of paper, with a pen that stubbornly refused to work.
Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired. Her chest hurt from the seat belt and her head throbbed, each pulsation bringing on more pain. They were allowed to leave. Too jaded for words, they took a taxi and went back to his brother. The police officer had asked him if he wanted to press charges against the coach driver but he refused. A kind soul, he understood or perhaps hoped that the experience in itself had been enough.
After one has been in an accident, initially, there is a period of numbness. You replay the whole event in your head, your body experiencing the same sensations. This is a common occurrence in trauma victims but, somehow, it felt so strange when it happened to you.
She ate a slice of chocolate cake that night. It was rich, with a luxurious taste, and she could not believe how good it tasted. As she would discover later in life, each traumatic event made her more appreciative of the little things. Breathing in the fresh air of the morning. Taking that first sip of lemon tea. Leafing through a new book. She was alive and thankful for every minute.
It took a lot of time for things to go back to normal. When her boyfriend was driving, she felt anxious and grabbed the handle at every bend in the road. It wasn’t that she did not have faith in the way he drove, but she grew anxious as she wasn’t in control. This is what the accident had woken up inside her – a smoldering mountain of anxiety, which she thought she could dominate by assuming control. Of course, it was not possible to keep living like that.
She decided to confront her biggest fear and get her driver’s license. It was a liberating moment, as she could finally get behind the wheel and get an apparent sense of control. It surprised her to discover that she loved driving – her left hand caressed the steering wheel, as she changed gears with the other. The music added to the pleasure she was experiencing, and she looked forward to getting in that car once again.
From time to time, the image of her dad, from the day of the accident, came to her. She smiled, as she knew that he was the one who protected her, as he had done all of his life. He would probably continue to do so because, even in death, he never let her go.
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