I Nearly Died
(Winner of the 2014 Thurrock Writers' Circle Christmas Short Story Competition)
I nearly died last night. Christmas Eve. Drunk driver. Didn’t stop; faltered then carried on.
I had been on my way to mass. Not that I’m particularly religious. I enjoy the carols, the candles and more than anything I enjoy the company. You see my husband, bless his soul, passed away years ago and my only child moved away, too far for me to visit. For the last few years, every Christmas has been the same. I open my cards, read the loving words from my daughter and relish the updated photos she sends of the grandchildren I rarely see, then watch television and reminisce. I remember the laughter that once echoed in my now lonely house, the look of anticipation as Jodi picked up her presents, the smiles as we played board games which only emerged once a year.
Just a second. That’s all it takes. I was crossing the road, heading towards the welcoming lights of the church porch, when I heard a screech. Bright lights hurtled forwards before crashing into me, flinging my ragdoll body through the air and onto the bonnet of another car. I barely had time to notice the car continue its journey before an overwhelming pain attacked my consciousness. The rest was a blur, the pain faded as all descended into darkness.
Opening my eyes, all I could feel was pain, in my chest, in my leg, in my heart. I felt bleak. Then, from nowhere, the kind eyes of a nurse smiled at me, her soft palm holding my arm, preventing me from touching my face. Wires were embedded in me, leading to an array of machinery. To my left I was relieved to see my heart was still beating while to my right a drip had been attached to my bruised arm.
‘Will I be ok?’ I croaked.
‘I’m afraid you’ve been badly injured, broken ribs, fractured collar and a crushed knee as well as lots of bruising and some internal bleeding. You were in a pretty bad way when you were brought in. I’ll get the doctor to explain things when he’s on his rounds. Is there anyone you would like us to contact?”
Jodi. I should ask for Jodi. I was about to formulate her name when, through the slit in the curtains, I noticed a smattering of Christmas cards on some shelves. Christmas Day! I had completely forgotten.
I thought of Jodi, at home, sharing this special time with her husband and her adorable children. As much as I desperately wanted her, wanted someone, I couldn’t do it to them, I couldn’t ruin their Christmas. They wouldn’t be able to get to me and it would only spoil their day. ‘Tomorrow maybe,’ I replied.
She smiled again and I wondered if it was her default expression. Did she really want to smile, being here, at work, on Christmas day? ‘Could you draw back the curtains please?’
The ward was packed, parents visiting their teenage son to my left, his leg in a cast lifted into the air, his face swollen. Yet despite his injuries, the pain in his eyes didn’t show in his smile which lit up as his father cracked another joke. His mum sat still, desperately trying to hold back her tears. His smaller sister wore a brave face as she opened his presents for him.
Opposite a woman sat, so close in age to my precious Jodi that it was painful to watch. Beside her, her husband clasped her free hand. The other was hooked to some apparatus with lots of tubes monitoring lots of functions. Both were smiling, gazing at each other, oblivious to everything else. It was then I noticed he was sliding a ring on her finger. So beautiful.
Horizontally, on his own, lay a man, similar in age to myself. Glancing up, he smiled at me, a heartfelt, genuine smile that made me feel warm inside. I returned his welcome and was about to say hello when I was disturbed.
‘You gave us a real fright Liz!’ Pulling up a chair for him and his wife, Dave, the organist and Lisa sat by my bedside, adorned with grapes, magazines and a Christmas gift. Laying them on the table, they explained how the incident had been witnessed by none other than the vicar, who was meeting and greeting at the door. He had called for an ambulance immediately and had waited with me for the ambulance to arrive. ‘Complete pandemonium after,’ Dave said.
‘Everyone’s been praying for you,’ Lisa added.
The day was filled with so many visitors from church that I barely had time to think about Jodi, or my beloved Sam. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so alive, so wanted, so special. So many had given their time on Christmas day to make sure I wasn’t alone and to find out how I was. My shelves were over flowing with cards wishing me well and with season’s greetings, I’d never had so many. Flowers, cakes, even Christmas dinners had been brought to cheer me up, and they worked. By the end of the day my stomach was full and my heart was overflowing with joy.
‘Mrs Popularity I see?’ A deep voice stated as the man who had spent much of his day alone sat by my bedside.
‘For once,’ I replied, my breath catching as a proper glance revealed he was really quite attractive.
I barely remember what we talked about before the lights turned off, but the light inside me which had been ignited during the day continued to burn.
My physical recovery was slow, with physiotherapy, medicines and a couple of operations. Yet emotionally, I hadn’t felt so alive in years. Jodi brought the boys; those from church continued to visit and Jack and I have arranged to have dinner when we are both out of hospital.
Christmas Eve, I nearly died. Christmas Day, I came alive.
(Winner of the 2014 Thurrock Writers' Circle Christmas Short Story Competition)
I nearly died last night. Christmas Eve. Drunk driver. Didn’t stop; faltered then carried on.
I had been on my way to mass. Not that I’m particularly religious. I enjoy the carols, the candles and more than anything I enjoy the company. You see my husband, bless his soul, passed away years ago and my only child moved away, too far for me to visit. For the last few years, every Christmas has been the same. I open my cards, read the loving words from my daughter and relish the updated photos she sends of the grandchildren I rarely see, then watch television and reminisce. I remember the laughter that once echoed in my now lonely house, the look of anticipation as Jodi picked up her presents, the smiles as we played board games which only emerged once a year.
Just a second. That’s all it takes. I was crossing the road, heading towards the welcoming lights of the church porch, when I heard a screech. Bright lights hurtled forwards before crashing into me, flinging my ragdoll body through the air and onto the bonnet of another car. I barely had time to notice the car continue its journey before an overwhelming pain attacked my consciousness. The rest was a blur, the pain faded as all descended into darkness.
Opening my eyes, all I could feel was pain, in my chest, in my leg, in my heart. I felt bleak. Then, from nowhere, the kind eyes of a nurse smiled at me, her soft palm holding my arm, preventing me from touching my face. Wires were embedded in me, leading to an array of machinery. To my left I was relieved to see my heart was still beating while to my right a drip had been attached to my bruised arm.
‘Will I be ok?’ I croaked.
‘I’m afraid you’ve been badly injured, broken ribs, fractured collar and a crushed knee as well as lots of bruising and some internal bleeding. You were in a pretty bad way when you were brought in. I’ll get the doctor to explain things when he’s on his rounds. Is there anyone you would like us to contact?”
Jodi. I should ask for Jodi. I was about to formulate her name when, through the slit in the curtains, I noticed a smattering of Christmas cards on some shelves. Christmas Day! I had completely forgotten.
I thought of Jodi, at home, sharing this special time with her husband and her adorable children. As much as I desperately wanted her, wanted someone, I couldn’t do it to them, I couldn’t ruin their Christmas. They wouldn’t be able to get to me and it would only spoil their day. ‘Tomorrow maybe,’ I replied.
She smiled again and I wondered if it was her default expression. Did she really want to smile, being here, at work, on Christmas day? ‘Could you draw back the curtains please?’
The ward was packed, parents visiting their teenage son to my left, his leg in a cast lifted into the air, his face swollen. Yet despite his injuries, the pain in his eyes didn’t show in his smile which lit up as his father cracked another joke. His mum sat still, desperately trying to hold back her tears. His smaller sister wore a brave face as she opened his presents for him.
Opposite a woman sat, so close in age to my precious Jodi that it was painful to watch. Beside her, her husband clasped her free hand. The other was hooked to some apparatus with lots of tubes monitoring lots of functions. Both were smiling, gazing at each other, oblivious to everything else. It was then I noticed he was sliding a ring on her finger. So beautiful.
Horizontally, on his own, lay a man, similar in age to myself. Glancing up, he smiled at me, a heartfelt, genuine smile that made me feel warm inside. I returned his welcome and was about to say hello when I was disturbed.
‘You gave us a real fright Liz!’ Pulling up a chair for him and his wife, Dave, the organist and Lisa sat by my bedside, adorned with grapes, magazines and a Christmas gift. Laying them on the table, they explained how the incident had been witnessed by none other than the vicar, who was meeting and greeting at the door. He had called for an ambulance immediately and had waited with me for the ambulance to arrive. ‘Complete pandemonium after,’ Dave said.
‘Everyone’s been praying for you,’ Lisa added.
The day was filled with so many visitors from church that I barely had time to think about Jodi, or my beloved Sam. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so alive, so wanted, so special. So many had given their time on Christmas day to make sure I wasn’t alone and to find out how I was. My shelves were over flowing with cards wishing me well and with season’s greetings, I’d never had so many. Flowers, cakes, even Christmas dinners had been brought to cheer me up, and they worked. By the end of the day my stomach was full and my heart was overflowing with joy.
‘Mrs Popularity I see?’ A deep voice stated as the man who had spent much of his day alone sat by my bedside.
‘For once,’ I replied, my breath catching as a proper glance revealed he was really quite attractive.
I barely remember what we talked about before the lights turned off, but the light inside me which had been ignited during the day continued to burn.
My physical recovery was slow, with physiotherapy, medicines and a couple of operations. Yet emotionally, I hadn’t felt so alive in years. Jodi brought the boys; those from church continued to visit and Jack and I have arranged to have dinner when we are both out of hospital.
Christmas Eve, I nearly died. Christmas Day, I came alive.