inevitable

{Two}

Savanna

Two days. I've been going out of my mind for two days. I went to work yesterday, allowing the students to occupy my mind while there, but the moment the bell rang to mark the end of the day, my mind went right back to that freeway, to those brown eyes looking up at me.

Baby...

The tortured sound of his voice woke me up from a dead sleep the first night. The second night, I tossed and turned, hearing the impact, that terrible sound of screeching tires and crashing metal, over and over again. Today, I called in sick, too sleep-deprived to manage my class knowing their level of energy would far surpass my own. I threw some lesson plans together and emailed them to the office so I wouldn't have to make the commute just to drop them off, but now I'm pacing my living room, stewing without really knowing why.

Why can't I move past this? I was only a witness. It shouldn't have affected me this strongly. I stopped to help, gave my statement and went home. That's what's supposed to happen when you're a bystander. You leave and move on with your life.

But those eyes...

I see them in my sleep. They haunt my dreams, those deep brown eyes. I don't even know this man's name or where he's from, but his image haunts me. I know nothing about him, and yet I'm heartsick over what happened to him.

It's a strange feeling, this worry over a person I've never even truly met. His life and my life collided in the strangest of circumstances, perhaps never to intersect again. Yet I think seeing him almost die in front of my eyes irrevocably changed me. No longer will I take that commute for granted. It has brought an unwelcome perspective on the fragility of life.

The day drags on as I try to nap, get some housework done, catch up on the mundane aspects of life. But my mind is never far from the rider. I find myself wishing I asked which hospital they were taking him to. Not that they would have told me--I'm a complete stranger to this man. I have no right to know a single thing about his condition.

But I can't stop thinking about him. My thoughts are consumed with his image. If only I knew where he was and how he was doing...

I scour the local papers on the internet for information, trying to see if someone had posted something about the accident. There's nothing. Not one morsel of information. It's as if the accident never happened.

I check my phone for the zillionth time to make sure it's fully charged in case Officer Sheridan finally calls then huff a laugh and run my hands over my face. This is crazy. I'm acting insane, it's time to put the accident past me and resume my day-to-day life.

I force myself to head to the grocery store.

An hour later, as I'm putting the eggs in the refrigerator of my small kitchen, my phone rings. It's an unknown number. I usually let those go to voicemail and check them later, but not this time.

"Hello?" I say as my heart races.

There's a brief delay, some static, and then a smooth voice comes on the line. "Good afternoon. Is this Savanna Moore?"

Hoping beyond hope that this isn't a telemarketer, I identify myself. "Yes, this is she." My heart continues to race as I take a seat, suddenly feeling out of breath.

"Hello, again. This is Officer Sheridan. I was the officer on scene of the accident you witnessed on Monday."

"Yes, yes. I remember. Thank you so much for calling, Officer Sheridan. Do you have any information on...the...rider?" My voice hesitates on the last few words, not knowing the man's name and not wanting to refer to him as the victim.