What Happened After

Chapter 1

"You'll make sure to call us every chance you get, right?" 

Chapter 1.

     “Alrighty, that’s it I think. We all set, Rainbow?” I grimaced at my dad’s childhood nickname for me, then again at the pile of luggage filling up the back of my parents’ SUV. There was a tiny Rayn-shaped space in the backseat, void of any clothes or furniture, which I assumed was for me, and I stared forlornly at it. In fact, every look I gave anything in the past few months could have been described as “forlorn.” I turned to take a long look at the front of my house once more—this was around the tenth time I had done it. I was sure I was forgetting something, and I figured that if I stared at the house long enough, maybe it would come to me.

     “Off to college already… Oh, I just can’t believe it, can you believe it Scott?” my mom piped in from behind me.

     “Not at all, Charlotte. Our little baby’s growing up so fast, it’s unbelievable.” My dad smoothed my hair back and kissed the top of my head before saying, “Okay sweetie, let’s get a move on. We’ve got a lot of road to cover before dusk if we want to avoid rush hour.” As gently as he could, he guided me into my reserved seat, and off we went.

     College. Ever since I was five years old, I had had my heart set on Berkeley, and now I was in the car well on my way. I spent all summer in my bedroom, pondering whether I should still go, or if I should stay in my hometown and get a job at Mickey’s Diner or something. Eventually it was decided that since I had such a great scholarship, which probably wouldn’t be offered to me again if I deferred a year, that I would go to Berkeley on a trial basis, and if I absolutely hated the whole college thing, I would turn around and come right home, with no parental judgment.

     After all, Kale was originally supposed to come with me.

     After the accident, Berkeley could not have been farther from my mind. In fact, when I was finally released from the hospital a week afterwards and settled back into my own house, my dad hesitantly asked how I was feeling about school, and I had actually completely forgotten all about it. It was literally the last thing on my mind. My biggest concern—my only concern—was that my two very best friends were gone, and that I would never see them again.

     I found out while in the hospital that the Bronco had been hit from the passenger’s side by a speeding semi-truck whose driver had lost control of the wheel. I spent a lot of time wondering how you could so easily lose control of something so gigantic. The semi hit at an angle, taking out Lauren first, followed by Kaleb. About a foot to the left, and it would have gotten Ruesso too. I would have been the only one left.

     I walked away from the accident relatively unscathed. My right arm was broken in two places, but it would be an easy fix. After the initial hit, I had apparently opened my door with no problems, and was screaming for help when the police and ambulances arrived.

     Nobody else was screaming.

     The paramedics took a quick look at each of my companions, shook his head sadly, then reached out to assess my own injuries. I pulled back. “What about them?” I cried. “I’m okay, but you’re not helping them, why isn’t anybody helping my friends?!”

     “Sweetheart,” the paramedic soothed, “You’re going to be just fine. Follow my partner to the ambulance, he’s gonna check you out, and we’re gonna stay back here and help your friends, okay? You’re going to fine.”

     Kaleb and Lauren, after being identified by myself, followed by their respective parents, were zipped up into individual body bags and taken away to God knows where. I lay in my ambulance, my broken arm confirmed, passed out with an ice pack on my head. That part of the story always gets me. My best friend and the love of my life are being taken away in body bags, and I can’t even stay conscious through a measly headache. Now, when I recall the story that has been recounted to me so many times, I’m very thankful that I don’t remember much of it. The only reason I know all of what happened is because of my nurses. I begged them to tell me everything they knew, and after realizing that I wasn’t going to back down, they told me. I cannot even begin to imagine what Lauren and Kaleb must have looked like that night, and I thank God every day that I don’t remember the identification. As terrible as the memories I do have of that night are, the memory of their mangled bodies is what would have completely done me in.