Overheards- Totaled

Scene:  I’m cooking dinner, sipping grapefruit juice and fielding complaints from the peanut gallery.  Spaghetti frittata isn’t a gallery favorite.  Then the phone rings.

H:  “Sooo… what kind of new car do you want?”

Me:  “What?! Why?”  Thoughts drift towards our earlier emails regarding his car’s prowess.  As in, it has none. It’s a ’98 Corolla. 

H:  “The Corolla just got totaled.”

Me:  “WHAT?! Are you OK?”  Inwardly I am screaming and thinking in short circuits of, “FUCK!” “DAMN!” “Whew!”  “Crap… we just got rid of our only car payment in December…FUCK!”

H: “Can you pick me up? Or wait. I’ll call you when the tow truck gets here.”

Me:  “Ok… I’m so confused.  What happened? Was it your fault?”

H: “No. The other driver.”

We hang up.  I stand in the kitchen completely confused.  I turn off the burners for dinner and just stare at the ingredients on the counter before me.  Tears well in my eyes and I try to remain calm.  I look out the window at the darkening sky and the drizzle falling on the pavement.  Figures.  It rains a drop around here and people drive like morons.  I don’t know exactly what to do.  I call my Mom.  I talk to H again. I load the hungry, annoyed girls into the car and head out to pick up H.  Thoughts bang around in my brain as I try to remain calm.  It could have been so much worse I tell myself. He could have been hurt.  The other driver could have been hurt.  We’ll figure out the money/new car issue later. He’s fine. He’s fine.  A Statey (a State Trooper to you non-Rhode Island folks) didn’t come to your door.  Everything is fine.

I turn onto the main road and someone cuts me off.  In just the same way that someone did only an hour before to H.  I slam on my brakes.  I breathe. Nothing happens. The driver didn’t even hesitate. The rain continues to fall.  My phone rings.  It’s H. He has another ride home.  We are all safe. I take the girls back home. 

I need a drink.