Your Choice

-- PART ONE --

It's not safe, I said.

You told me it was safer than a Chevy Colorado.

It's too small, you said before.

When I reminded you of this, you brushed it off.

You bought it anyway.

You made your choice, so I made mine.

Once a month, I'd said.

If the weather's nice and the roads are good.

After a while, you started to beg.

Please, you said, I'm a good driver.

Fine, I said, momentarily forgetting the consequences of the future.

I'll be safe, you said, I'll see you in less than two hours.

I waited an hour, you never called to check in.

I waited another, you didn't show up at my house.

I waited a third, and then I started to call. 

After the 18th try, someone picked up the phone.

I heard sirens.

Police walkie chatter.

A woman –mother presumably– sobbing someone's name.

Jacob! she cried.

My Jacob is in there!

Please somebody get him out! she sobbed.

I could picture the look on her face, 

The realization that her family would never be whole again.

I could imagine her sinking down into the grass.

Slowly, then all at once.

Her body crumples.

Weightless yet heavy – no reason left to live.

Finally, a voice spoke into the phone.

It wasn't yours.

-- PART TWO --

It wasn’t his fault, I told myself

Repeating it as I ran through the hospital hallways.

Almost like a mantra.

One I knew wasn’t true.

He could have found another way.

Bought another car.

He had time, but he was impatient. 

As if buying a car –its safety of no concern– would make him get his license sooner.

Make him pass the test he already knew he would pass.

It’s not his fault, I tell myself.

He needed a car.

But he didn’t, not really. 

He had been just fine using his mom’s.

I ran through the emergency room doors like I was in a Hallmark movie.

Hair a mess, eyes wild with apprehensive fear.

I ran to the counter and breathlessly asked for your room.

For you. 

Room 208, said the small nurse, looking up at me from her seat.

She placed her hand on mine as I turned to leave.

We’re gonna do everything we can to make sure he’s okay. 

She said to me, a sad look in her eyes.

I nodded, not stopping to process what she was saying.

I ran wildly through the halls, finally finding your room. 

The door was cracked

I heard the beeping of heart monitors

The faint sound of breathing

I think I heard a small noise; moan of pain, maybe

I pushed it open, slowly walking inside.

I turned the light on, and the sight in front of me was almost too much to handle.

I turned away, wincing at the image.

Too shocked to scream.

Too numb to cry.

My whole life is lying in that bed

Although I don't know if you even really count as alive.