Shay Savage - Win Some, Lose Some

Oh shit, shit, shit.

The impact of the car behind me slamming into my bumper was brief but intense. Even after the shaking stopped, I could still feel the vibrations running through my body. Every muscle was tensed, and my brain was on overload.

A car accident. Ive been in a car accident.

Bile crept up the back of my throat. My hands slid down the steering wheel slowly, leaving cold sweat from my palms on the faux leather wrapping. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, wondering if there was any way I could possibly get through this without having a major panic attack.

Unlikely.

I had a hard enough time when something was slightly out of my normal routine. For that reason, my uncle had gone over possible crisis situations with me in the past, and a car accident was one of them. I just needed to remind myself what to do.

Make sure everyone is okay, and call 911 if someone is hurt.

Was I hurt? Was the person behind me hurt?

Taking mental note of my body, I realized I was physically fineshaken up, but fine. I didnt know about the person or people behind me. I would have to get out of the car to figure that out. The problem was, I couldnt move.

Did the car still work? The engine hummed beneath the hood, and I figured the car was probably still drivable, so that answered that question. The impact hadnt been that hard. Since I didnt appear to be hurt, the person or people behind me might also be all right. Maybe there wasnt any damage to the car. Maybe I would survive this after all.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I reached over my lap and unbuckled my seatbelt. I wrapped my fingers around the door handle and focused on tensing my fingers enough to release the latch. I pushed the door open. My body remained tense as I slowly forced myself out of the car.

Make sure everyone is okay. Check for damage. You can do this.

Dude, what the fuck?

Startling at the sound, I glanced toward a blond guy with a ratty mullet pulled back into a ponytail. His lips were curled up into a snarl.

Yellow doesnt mean stop, you idiot! He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest.

The mans obvious aggravation at the situation should have sent me into a curled-up ball, but the absurdity of his claim grabbed my attention. For a moment, I forgot his belligerent manner and remembered the words in the driving manual I was given to study for my test.

Illumination of the yellow or amber light denotes, if safe to do so, prepare to stop short of the intersection. My chin quivered and my eyes remained on the ground as I spoke the memorized words as if I were on autopilot. I had time to stop. I cant afford to get a citation.

Citation? The blond guy threw his hands up into the air and leaned toward me. You mean a ticket? You dont get a fucking ticket for going .

His words didnt make any sense at all. There was nothing in the law that said he couldnt be cited for such an offense. He could. I studied thoroughly for the written portion of my driving test. If the light had been red, surely he would have thought running it was reason for a ticket. I continued to stare at the ground near his feet, trying to will myself to make eye contact, but I only managed to blink rapidly.

The guy tapped his foot as I looked over at the rear bumper of my car. The damage wasnt all that bad, but it was dented on one side, and now it was completely asymmetrical. In my chest, I could feel the panic rising again. I tried to swallow it down.

I needed to keep myself together. The man wasnt hurt. There was no one else in his car, and the damage was minimal.

I can do this.

Its a good thing you didnt dent up my car, the man said as he stood right next to me. I could feel his glare on my tingling skin. From his stature and demeanor, I got the idea he was used to being taller than most guys, but we met nearly eye-to-eye. He had at least forty pounds on me, though, so the effect was similar.

Im sorry I started to say, but he interrupted me.

Id say you are! His laugh was full of menace.

Im sorry, I repeated, but you

I stopped. His demeanor and harsh stare were throwing me off. If I could just remember how Id practiced scenarios like this one, I would be fine, but I couldnt focus enough to remember everything.

Insurance. I need to ask him for insurance information.

I took a deep breath and continued.

If you could just give me the name of your insurance company

He took half a step forward and poked his finger into my chesttwice.

Fuck. You.

I swallowed hard. I knew how to defend myself, but every martial art I had ever studied demanded strict adherence to the rule: only use force if there is no other choice. I still had some choices left.

I made a sweeping gesture toward my bumper, cringing at the sight. I wanted to say something about how he had rear-ended me and was at fault, but I couldnt get the words out. I couldnt stop staring at the lopsided dent in the bumper. I wouldnt be able to drive it like this, not when I knew the bumper was back here, looking the way it did. I wouldnt be able to concentrate.

Would my insurance rates go up?

A fresh wave of panic smacked into my chest.

I was rarely angry at others. I usually reserved that type of emotion for self-loathing, but this guy was so obviously wrong. I pushed back another pending deluge of panic. I couldnt let that happen here at the edge of the street and in front of this Neanderthal . I took a couple of deep breaths, wishing I had enough money to go back to the therapist in town.

Call the police, I whispered. I hadnt really meant to say it out loud, but I knew this was the next course of action if there was a dispute. I had a prepaid phone in my glove compartment for emergencies.

Fuck that. You aint calling nobody.

My skin crawled at his grammar. I needed to get back in my car and use the emergency phone, but my feet wouldnt move.

Call police, I said again. My voice was monotone, and I was only dimly aware of what I was saying. I still couldnt move, and I tried to find something on the ground to draw my attention away from the situation. Report the accident. Get insurance information.

I could feel the mans hot glare on my face, but I couldnt look at him. I was repeating Call the police over and over again. I couldnt make myself stop.

Shut up! The guy poked me in the chest once more. Considering the piece of shit youre driving, Id consider it a mercy killing. Herehe shoved a little piece of paper at my chest, and I watched as it fluttered to the groundconsider us even.

He laughed again as he turned around, got back into his car, and drove away.

I leaned down and picked up the bit of paperI couldnt stand having litter in the streetand saw that it was one of those Powerball lottery tickets. I shook my head slowly as I stared at the paper without really seeing it. I always thought the lottery was a tax on people with poor math skills, and that fit the stereotype of the guy perfectly.