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I try to look, but something blocks my way. Are we next to the bus, or in it? My vision adjusts and I see a stranger’s eyes in your place, broken eyes, un-seeing eyes. and then it’s all too much…
and I’m somewhere else.
We’re in the hospital; it’s the day of your birth. Your brown eyes stare, wide and trusting. Tears stream down my cheeks. I’m so happy you are here. Your father is here too.
Then your eyes become a stranger’s eyes, and everything melds and melts; folded metal, shattered glass. My heart races me awake to searing pain. Monitors beep and white walls surround me. A nurse holds my hand.
‘Where…?’
‘There was an accident,’ she says. ‘a bus… a semi-trailer …’
I feel the impact, remember seeing your eyes—
She gently squeezes my hand. ‘I’m sorry about your son…’
She injects something into my IV; I begin to float. Her words dissolve into nothingness as I turn away. My phone rings on the cabinet next to me. I reach to turn it off but press the speaker on instead.
‘Congratulations!’ It’s the voice from yesterday’s interview. ‘We’d like to offer you the job.’
I push the off button. I don’t know if I need a job anymore.
I push, and push, and push it all away.
