Molly Shannon - Hello, Molly!: A Memoir

W HEN I WAS FOUR, I LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW OF my familys two-story house in Cleveland, Ohio, and saw a little girl on a tricycle. I was in the downstairs den, and the feeling was very peaceful. My mother was folding clothes.

I remember looking at the girl and thinking, I really want to become friends with her.

So I asked my mom, How do you do that? How can I go up to her?

She said, All you have to do is go up, and say, Im Molly, and introduce yourself. I think youre going to have a lot of friends, because you seem like the type of person who could do that.

ON SUNDAY, JUNE 1, 1969, my mom and dad, my sisters, Mary and Katie, and I drove from our house to Mansfield, a city halfway between Cleveland and Columbus, for one of my cousins high school graduation parties. Everyone was drinking. My dad had been working as a salesman for GM, bartering steel. He felt like he was in over his head and he was stressed-out. (My mom, who worked as a librarian at Woodland elementary school, would tell him, Jim, you hate the job. Leave it and find something else!)

At one point during the day his sister BernadetteAunt Bernietold him hed probably had enough to drink. Jim, thats enough, she said. Watch it. Cut yourself off now. She tapped him on the chest with her fist for emphasis. Be careful.

Later that afternoon, he took a nap. It was an all-day party into the evening.

It was nine at night when we finally left Mansfield, and we were two hours from our house. My mom said to Aunt Bernie, whose twenty-five-year-old daughter, Fran, was getting a ride with us, Ugh, its going to be a rough ride home.

Everybody came out of the party, laughing, to see us off. I fell asleep as they said their goodbyes. Years later my dad told me hed asked my mom and Fran to drive because he was still feeling tired, and theyd said, No, youre fine; you can drive. He asked my mom to talk to him on the ride to keep him awake.

My big sister Mary and I were in the very back of the station wagon; she was six and I was four. And our baby sister, Katie, who was only three, sat in the middle with our cousin Fran. My mom was in the front on the passenger side, and my dad was at the wheel. I remember my dad was a little bit irritated that he had to go out of his way to take Fran home. He wasnt used to going that way on the freeway. It made him nervous.

I know what happened next because as an adult my sister Mary contacted the man whod been driving behind us. Mary was so brave to just call him on the phone one day. This man was now old and hesitant to answer her questions, but eventually he said that my dad sideswiped a car to the left, then suddenly swerved hard to the right and hit a light pole head-on. These days all light poles are breakaway poles, designed to topple on impact, but at the time they had these solid steel poles that caused terrible injuries. We smashed into a pole like that. Hed driven for ninety minutes and we were almost home.

My dad said that before he hit the pole he turned his head for just a second to ask Fran which way was the quickest, when I felt just the slightest tap of the bumper in front of me. It was a new company car, and I remember thinking about all the paperwork I was going to have to fill out because of that one little tap. And that was it. I remember nothing after that. He blacked out.

The car was mangled badly on impact. So many people stopped to help. Firemen were called to put out the small, smoldering fire in front of the car. Another man passed the scene of the accident and stopped. By coincidence this man worked for Frans father, my uncle John, in the car wash he owned. And he was the last person to speak with my mother.

She was lying on the ground beside our car and she asked him, Where are my girls? She wanted to gather her three little girls and she couldnt. I think her heart must have broken in that moment. And those were her final words. It was so strange and unlikely that someone who knew our family happened to be driving on that empty highway at the same time, enabling me to find out that my mothers last thoughts had been of Katie, Mary, and me. She died two hours later in the hospital.

My baby sister, Katie, and cousin Fran were killed instantly. Since Mary and I were in the very back, we just had a concussion and a broken arm, respectively. Katie was buried in the middle of all the wreckage. She was so small, they didnt even know that she was in the car. Officially she died of contusions and pulpefaction of brain. I found that out as an adult when I went through my dads filing cabinet after he died and I saw her death certificate. Hed kept this horror to himself for the rest of his life.

For so many years there was this big secret hidden in that filing cabinet.

My poor, sweet Katie, I thought. And my dad knew this. He just buried it away. I imagine he must have looked at it once and never wanted to look at it again.

There is no way to know exactly what happened that night, though my gut tells me he fell asleep at the wheel. But would he have fallen asleep without the drinking? It still keeps me up at night sometimes but, in the end, all that is relevant is that it changed our lives forever.

MY SISTER MARY WAS the only one who was conscious when the police arrived, so they questioned her. They asked her whod been in the car. She had to tell them everyones ages and where we had been. They kept saying over and over again how shocked they were at how articulate she was for a six-year-old.

When I came to, there were sirens and lots of people. I remember feeling Marys body next to mine, our legs touching each others, on a stretcher. And I remember being covered in a blanket that was really itchy. They took us to the hospital and they cut our clothes off. And they gave us tests.

Voices asked, Are the lights on or are the lights off? Do you feel that? Do you feel that? All these tests. And then they put us in a kids ward.

I was doing really well with potty training. I had learned how not to wet myself during the night. But now I had to go to the bathroom. I shouted, I have to go to the bathroom! I have to go to the bathroom! I was trying so hard to hold it. I had training underpants on, and I started pleading, I want my mommy! I want my mommy!

Nobody came. So I just gave up and wet myself. I was despairing. I didnt know what was going on, only that everything was so dark and horrible. So even though I knew not to wet myself, I just gave up and did it anyway.

The next morning I remember waking up in the hospital, my arm in a sling. Mary was in the corner next to a large window. I was in a bed next to her, four feet away. It was a gray day. Mary remembers asking repeatedly, Where is my mom? I want my mom! But no one would answer her. I didnt know what to do, so I just kept my eyes on Mary, in order to follow what she was doing. She would be my guidepost. Whatever she did, I would do. But she just stared out the window and sobbed and sobbed. Then I looked around and saw all these other kids. Some were in wheelchairs. Many of them were alone, and I thought, Oh. Wow. Well, I dont know where my parents are, but these kids have it worse than me. They dont even have anybody visiting. I looked around. And he doesnt have a leg, and this kid only has one arm. I felt like Curious George when he went to the hospital.

I decided that I would take care of those kids. Since nobody would tell me what was going on, this was something I could do while I was waiting. And once I started helping them, it really cheered me up. I introduced myself and talked to them. And soon I was in a circle and getting everyone to play games.

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS we had a lot of visitors. People would bring us toys in the hospital, hand them to us in our beds, and try to act really cheerful. More toys and dolls than any child could ever imagine. Every day after our nap, we would wake up surrounded by even more of them. But it was not great getting all these toys.