And seventeen when they met. That they had grown up together, been together over half their lives, didn’t stop the truck from crushing his body.
Trucks were supposed to be big, safe machines. Work machines. Familiar, like her great-grandfather’s mule. They had seatbelts, brakes, airbags, bumpers. This one had a lot of steel and momentum.
Anna stared. She remembered their first date. Teenagers at a cheap restaurant, feeling so very grown up as they ordered food. Jacky mumbling when he got the bill, “Oh THAT’S why Dad gave me more money.” He had planned to pay for dinner with his paycheck from working at the game store, but it only covered about three quarters of their dinner. “Good thing we didn’t get dessert”, Anna had said, and that became their first private joke.
After 10 years in the work force, they just barely qualified for a home loan. “Good thing we didn’t get dessert.” Using a coupon to get them and their kids into a movie matinee, giggling with sticker shock the first time they went to a theme park. “It’s just Christmas lights but costs $10 per person?” Anna dug change out of her bag as Jackie swept all the coins out of their car’s change cup. “Good thing we didn’t get dessert” they grimaced together.
If it had been a smaller car, maybe it would have crushed his hip, broken his arm. But the truck’s front end was taller than their entire sedan, and it impacted him top to bottom. “T bone, T bone”, Anna whispered. The police called it that, the truck’s connecting to their car in an ordinary intersection. A place Anna had driven thru hundreds of times. Clear and yellow plastic shards on the ground, bits of chrome, window glass fragments scattered across asphalt. One intake of breath, another, then screaming children, screaming Anna. The truck driver had a bloody nose.
Someone touched her arm. “Jacky,” she said, and her mother spoke softly. “No, honey, no. It’s time to start the service.” Anna swayed as she tried to stand up, and leaned on her mother. “Take a drink of water,” her mother said, but Anna shook her head. She didn’t want anything but Jacky. No food, no sleep, no water. She stumbled forward, took her seat at the front of the funeral parlor’s medium-sized room.
There was no coffin. A large, framed photo of Jackie stood surrounded by flowers and wreaths. How could any of this be real? Anna’s head spun. No. No no no. No. She shook her head. No. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Michael was only in first grade. Tara in 8th, Charlene in 10th. He wouldn’t get to see them graduate. In her mind, she saw him smiling and clapping in the auditorium as Charlene walked across the stage. Putting his fingers to his lips to make a shrieking whistle, forbidden during graduation ceremony, laughing when Anna elbowed him. Charlene smiling broadly. Exactly what wouldn’t happen. Anna rocked back and forth on the padded folding chair. She couldn’t turn to look at their children, seated next to her. She couldn’t look at anything but his photograph. Jacky Jacky Jacky, why did you go?
The children went to bed that night without a fight. Maybe because Anna didn’t make them brush their teeth and didn’t even check to see if they were in pajamas. Anna slept on the couch.
The alarm shook Anna so badly she almost screamed. She sat up and her head felt like it was going to split open. Her nose was stopped up and her eyes were swollen. And of course she had dreamed that Jacky was still alive. He’d come home from work like normal, and she had laughed with relief to see him. It has all been a misunderstanding. He was fine.
Anna had to call the auto insurance company. She didn’t want to call them. She had to pay for the body disposal. She had to contact the life insurance company to see if their policy was up to date. She had to had to had to do so many things. While her life was gaping open into the void.
She heard Michael wake up and start to sob, and went to his bedside. Tara lay in her bed and stared at them with red eyes, Charlene didn’t move on her top bunk. “I want to hold all your hands at once.” Anna said. “But you only have two hands,” Tara answered, and they tried to smile at each other. Charlene got out of bed and left the room, not speaking. Anna heard her in the bathroom, then in the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water and, still not speaking, sat on the end of Charlene’s bed. Anna’s temples throbbed and she stared at the glass of water. Yesterday she couldn’t make herself eat or drink, but in front of her children she knew she had to. So she asked Charlene for some of her water.
Her daughter glared at her. “I just got this for myself.”
“Can you share with me?” Anna asked, pointedly. Charlene’s face pinched and her eyes grew narrow. She slammed the glass down on the dresser and left the room again.
Michael turned his face towards the wall. Tara stared at nothing, her hand drooping towards the floor. Anna wanted to march out after her daughter and demand to know what she thought she was doing, and Anna wanted to leave the house and never come back.
Instead, she asked Tara and MIchael if they wanted water. Both said yes, so she got three tumblers filled and they sat together to drink. The water soothed Anna’s throat, and she looked down into the empty tumbler. “More?” Both said no. Anna walked into bathroom and got in the shower.
“What do I do?” she asked her mother. Anna’s father had left ten years before, and her mother had never sought divorce or another partner. “How do I do this? How do I live now? I keep expecting him to come home. I wake up thinking he’s in the next room. It’s like he dies again every time I remember. I can’t do this! I can’t live this way! It’s like, like when …” “It’s like all your skin’s been scraped. It’s like breathing out forever. Like constantly falling down.” Anna nodded. They leaned towards each other and put their foreheads together.
“February would have been our 26th cheap chocolate anniversary.” Their first date had been the day after Valentine’s. Cheap chocolate day. “How am I supposed to do Christmas? and the kid’s birthdays? How am I supposed to live in this house?! Pay the mortgage?” Her mother began to speak but Anna cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Nothing makes sense. Why did this even happen? Why couldn’t that driver have waited a few more seconds? Or just not try to cross? The light was yellow. He should have stopped. He should have stopped. HE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED.” Her mother tried to reach for her but Anna turned away. “NO. All of this is WRONG. It’s WRONG!!” she screamed, eyes dry with anger. She turned to find her mother had left the room, but Charlene stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Yeah mom, screaming’s going to fix everything,” she rolled her eyes before darting away. Anna’s arms flopped to her sides, and she felt heavy.
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