Those Who've Saved Us All

Preface

    I remember laughter. Vicky's laughter. Deep and contagious, beautiful. She laughed first, tilting her head back and smiling wide. Then Mama and I joined in, Mamas chortle and my guffaw, mixing in with hers into a euphony. It sounded exactly what you would image happiness would sound like. Carefree, light and soft. I remember looking at Vic, sitting next to me in the car. Mama had a seven person white van- two up front, two in the middle and three in the back. But that day it was just us girls. Two best friends and a mother that everyone, I especially, called Mama. 

     I remember Vicky tickling my nose with her long, long blonde hair. And when I would go to whack her she would look up and stick her tongue slightly out because she knew I always melted at that face. I remember being barefoot because I didn't bother with shoes, wiggling my toes into the tan fabric that covered the seats and idly wondering when I would ever attempt to paint my toenails again. I remember suggesting that we do pedicures when we got home, something we rarely did due to the fact that we were tomboys. Mama, remembering the last time she did my nails, vetoed it immediately. So did Vicky, but in favor of climbing trees.

     I know it was only April, but it was still too cold for me. I remember Vic lending me a pair of shorts. She didn't have any more pajama pants because she was constantly lending them to me, and I was constantly hoarding them. I remember the pink cheetah print pattern that clashed with her orange tank top. Her shoulders and arms were pale, and when she twisted her wrist I could see scars of the past.  But that day was happy. Her blue eyes danced and she didn't go a second without smiling. This was her, this was my Vicky. 

     I remember spilling Mama's Dr. Pepper on myself. It was her and my favorite drink, though Vic preferred Mountain Dew. Seeing me covered in the sticky brown soda made Vicky laugh harder, and Mama was too amused to get mad about the mess in her car. The sun had only risen an hour or so ago, and was just starting to brighten the sky, and for once, everything was perfect.

     I remember that Vicky asked a question that made Mama look back at her. And I remember Vic's horrified look, the kind she got when she was really, really scared. I remember the high shriek of another car's tires, and the tinkling sound of glass shattering around us.

      I remember screaming Vicky's name, because at that moment I didn't give a damn if I lived or not. As long as she was okay, everything would be okay. I remember reaching towards her, touching her arm, only to have her ripped away from me. I remember being so scared I couldn't breathe, because Mama was swearing and screaming and sobbing, and maybe Vicky was too, and all I could hear was jumbled cacophonies, and it was too much, too much, too much. 

     And I remember thinking my very last thought before the world was blurred into black silence as it always is when a person is pulled under. Thousands of pleas and plans and 'remember when's were whirling in my brain, but the only one to form an actual thought was the most selfless thing I've ever said.

"I can't save her, I can't save her, I can't save her. Please. Please save her."

     I remember nothing else.