A Matter of Time

            by Katrin Pitzken

 

“Hurry up mum! We’re gonna be late! “

“Calm down we have over twenty minutes to get there and normally it just takes fifteen. “

She was right. I just was so nervous.

“Felix put your shoes on, grab your coat and hurry up! “

My little cousin who just turned five looked at me with his brown eyes wide open. I knew this look. It was saying, ”I’m so little, I can’t do this on my own! “ “Oh come on! I know you can put your shoes on all by yourself!”

He shook his head.

So I finally grabbed his shoes, complained about how dependent he was and that I was able to put my shoes on when I was five, and put  on his shoes.

“If it goes on like this we’re gonna be late,” I thought.

I was so excited. My dance group and I where taking part in a really important dance competition. My mum put on her pretty blue jacket, my cousin stepped out the door, I grabbed my bag and followed him.

Uh, it was raining. Usually I liked rain. The smell, the noise it made when the raindrops hit the ground or windows, sitting inside dry and warm with a cup of tea watching the rain fall and chatting with my friend.

But today it was different.

The rain fell on my face and it felt like knives cutting my skin. It was cool and awkward and it didn’t sound like it used to.

It sounded like two things crushing into each other, loud and scary.

“Come on, don’t be so silly” I said to myself.

When my mum locked the door, I suddenly heard the phone ring.

My mother saw me hesitating.  “Won’t change my life if I don’t answer the phone once,” I laughed, and  got into the car.

 

The moment we started driving my cousin started talking. I knew he wouldn’t stop until we arrived. My mum thought the same and turned on the radio.

She used to do it.

When I was little, there was this really cute little brown toy dog, which I really wanted to have. She said no, if I wanted to have it, I had to wait for my birthday next week, put me in the car and drove home. Of course I didn’t want to wait, so I cried heartrendingly the whole way home, hoping it would make her buy me the dog.

She turned on the radio and I tried to scream louder, but the radio was always louder than me.

But this time it wasn’t me screaming because of a toy dog, it was my cousin singing, talking, mumbling, just making whatever noise a human being could make.

I looked out the window. It was still raining.

Everything seemed grey and dark.

In my thoughts I was already dancing. Left leg, right arm, chassé….

We had practiced everyday for months and I was really looking forward to the competition, even though I was nervous.

If we would win we would get qualified for the European championship in Riesa. We would spend  a whole week there practicing with all my dance friends.

And tomorrow was the day when my best friend was moving into a house, just half a minute away from ours.

We had already made plans on how her new room would look like when it was ready. I would come over and we would decorate it with the things we bought a week ago.

This weekend would be awesome! And even the following week would be great because we were going on a class trip.

“I bought you a new cute sheet for your bed,” my mother jolted me from my thoughts.

“Oh thank you! I think I saw it lying on the staircase.”

“Old Mac Donald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O…”

“Felix could you please, please stop singing? Instead you could tell me what your first school week was like!”

“I hate school!”

Wow that was fast. For me it took seven years to make up my mind whether school was cool or just necessary.

But he decided on it his first week. He hadn’t had any homework or tests yet.

How was this supposed to end?

“And on his farm he had a cow, E-I-E-I-O. With a "moo-moo" here and a "moo-moo" there…”

He was like his mother, he never stopped talking.

I looked out the window with my cousin singing on the backseat, the radio playing in the front and my mother singing along, because the radio alone couldn’t drown Felix out.

At this point I understood why my father used to call my family weird.

We stopped at a red traffic light.

I stared forward out the window. All I saw was rain. All I heard was “Like ice in the sunshine...E-I-E-I-O”.

We started slowly. Oh my God I will have gone nuts by the time we arrive.

 

         On the other side of the road was a traffic jam. I could see the drivers leaning

over their steering-wheels and honking their horns.

         I looked forward. There was a car that shifted lanes into the on-coming traffic. What was he doing? Was he trying to get ahead of the car before him? Couldn't he see that there was no space?

            Now it was in our lane, moving directly towards us.

         “Mum, watch out! That car!”

         “I know. I see it!”

            Why wasn't she avoiding the bus lane? What was he doing? Why was he driving in our lane?

         "Dodge! Mum! "

         Reflexively, I closed my eyes.

         The next thing I heard was a deafening crash. I didn't feel anything, I just heard the crash. It was like my body was sitting in the car, but my mind just wasn't there.

The moment I opened my eyes, horrible pain surged through my body. I struggled for air. But everywhere in the car was white fog because of the airbag. I felt

like when you fall on your back. You just can't breathe even if you

really want to.

         "Mum I'm going to die! I can't breathe!" I screamed.  She didn't

answer. I heard my cousin screaming from the backseat. He couldn't get

out because in the back there were no doors. I tried to open the door but

it was stuck. “I have to get out, I can't breathe, I have to get out!” I

thought.  I couldn't see anything because of the fog. Somehow I

succeeded in opening the door. I fell out. I couldn't move.  I just lay there in a puddle, rain falling on me.

         Cutting my skin.

         Mum! Felix! I thought. What had happened to them? Did they get out of

the car or were they still in it? I slowly turned my head and beneath the

car I could see Felix lying on the street, crying, screaming.  He

looked me straight in the eyes. I could see the fear on his face.

"Kati, please help me! Make this stop!" he begged.

          The cars behind him started driving as if nothing has happened.  Didn't they see the crash?

         What if one would hit him lying on the street? I panicked.

         I wanted to get up and help him, hold him in my arms and say "don't be

scared. I'm here, everything is going to be ok, I promise!" but the

people who had gotten to me by now, pushed me back. "Don't move,

everything is fine! We called the ambulance!"  Nothing was fine!

Tears ran down my face. I didn't feel any pain anymore, I just wanted

to get up and see my mother and my cousin.

         I wanted to scream “Where is my mother?" but I couldn't.

"I’ll go and see if your mother is OK and then I'll come back and tell

you" one woman promised.

            She didn't come back.

 

         A young woman and a man held my hands, but I just lay there, crying

and trying to get up, but I got pushed back every time.

         What if my mother died? I had nobody else…. no siblings no father. My

parents got divorced when I was one.  I had a stepfather, whom I really

liked, but I couldn't imagine living without my mother. She was my

everything.  Somebody asked whether he should call anyone. After a while

he came back and said that my father wasn't reachable.

            I was lying there, my head empty. Too many things had happened in the

last few minutes.

            Finally four ambulances arrived. I tried to catch a glimpse of my

mother and my cousin but I still couldn't.

         The medics came to me, asked me questions, moved parts of my body,

tried to place an infusion, but it was like I was in a trance. I still didn't

know what happened to my mother. I hadn't seen her since the other car

crashed into our car. It seemed like hours even though it had just

been 10 minutes.

          I once had to say goodbye to her, not knowing if she would come back.

         That was when she had a brain tumor four years ago. She told me that I

had to be very brave and pray for her every evening. She and my stepfather

left for hospital. I stayed with friends. When we talked the day

before the operation, she started crying on the phone. I was helpless

and scared. What if I wouldn't see her again?

         When I got the call that everything was ok and the operation went well

I started crying. But that was different. I had had time to say

goodbye.

 

         The next time I saw my mother, she was lying in the intensive care

unit, unable to move or speak.

         I was shocked. I used to know my mother as a powerful, confident and

funny woman.

            And now she looked pale and weak. I only saw her for a few minutes and

         I don't think she recognized me.

         When we left I thought I wouldn't see her again.

         But I didn't cry. I had to be strong. I mustn't show her how weak and

helpless I was.

         I thought she needed me to be strong and able to care for myself.

         I never showed anybody how helpless I was. I never showed how this

crash bothered me.

         I pretended everything was ok. For me and to all my friends. But I didn't want anybody around me. I knew that by the time they would asked me about what had happened or how I felt I would start crying.

         I had to be strong.  So I smiled and pretended everything would be OK.

         I'm ok, I thought, I haven't broken any bones, I just had to spend one

day in hospital.

         But my mother, broke her back in several places and also her foot. Maybe

she would never walk again.

            The next three months I was alone at home. My mother was in the

hospital and my father at work or with my mother.  I was happy that he

was with my mother. She needed support and love. More than I did. When

my father came home late at night I cooked him dinner, washed the

dishes and set the table for breakfast. I did all that without getting any thanks. I thought it’s ok he has to work so hard and we're all stressed because of what happened.

         When I lay in my bed at night, as soon as I closed my eyes, all my

feelings rushed over me. I saw the car coming towards us, I heard the

horns, the screams, saw my cousin lying on the street, I struggled for

air.

         I opened my eyes and it stopped.  Was it my fault? Wasn't it my dance

competition we were driving to? What would happen if I had answered

the call I got when we were leaving home?

         All these questions were in my head.

         I spent two weeks without any sleep.  Every time I drove in a car, I

got nervous, screamed when the car on the other side of the lane made

the tiniest move in our direction.

         When my mother came home after 3 months, she wasn't able to do anything

by herself. So I had to do everything for two.  But I had to be

strong. The roles of mother and child had changed. I cared for my

mother the way she used to care for me.  The difference was that I was a

child. It seemed as if I had grown years older in weeks. I became

responsible, independent but also more serious. When my friends

planned to go to the cinema, I never went with them. I had to stay at

home and help my mother. Not that anybody told me to, but I felt

responsible.

         All the time I never mentioned the pain I had. My back hurt horribly

with every move I made. My legs sometimes just gave up and I fell. My

whole face was blue, but I hid it under my make-up. Nobody needed to

see it. And anyway, nobody seemed really interested in what happened to

me. I hadn't been hurt seriously on the outside, so I wasn't injured.

         That's what they thought, and that's what I thought too, but now I

know that it wasn't true.  Just because you can't see any injuries it

doesn't mean that there are none.

         It took me a long time to recognize this. Six months later my mother

took me to her psychologist.

            He asked without knowing anything about what had happened, how I felt. I'm

fine thank you, I answered. I knew it wasn't the truth and somehow he

seemed to know it too. "So I'm sure the last months haven't been easy

for you" he said. "No that's true," I answered, "but I'm fine, thank

you!"

         And somehow my emotions came over me. I started crying. I wanted to

hide it from him, but he noticed it. "It's ok. You can cry if you feel like it!" I said that I would like to go and he saw me off.

         When we got back home I thought about what happened. Didn't I need

anybody to talk to? Someone who I would never see again?

         I decided to go there a second time.

            I didn't start crying, but I told him everything. How I felt when I

was there, lying alone in the hospital, nobody visiting me, not knowing

what happened to my mother.  How I felt having to care for two, always

being responsible and rational.

         I told him that I didn't want to do all this, but that I felt like I

had to. I told him how I wish somebody would care about what happened

to me and how I feel.

He asked me about every detail I could remember and I told him.

Somehow talking about it helped me to understand it.  I was able to

sleep at night without dreaming about the crash.

         I was able to sit in a car without screaming, even though I'm still

not able to keep calm when I'm in a car.

         But while I told him all that, I never cried. And I've still never

cried because of it. I did not learn to live with it, but I learned

how to deal with it or even how to push it away.

         I learned to appreciate that nothing really serious had happened to me,

because my mother pulled the car over at the last second. So she got

injured more, but nothing serious happened to me.

         Except the experience and the horrible moments which I will never forget.

I love her even more than before, because I came so close to losing

her, I appreciated how much she means to me, and I mean to her.

My mother still isn't whole again and I don't think she ever will be,

but I have gotten used to it. I have never really talked about the crash to

anyone beside the psychologist. It’s just one of the things you can't

really explain. You have to live through it to know what its like.

But he helped me to understand a lot of things, but there is one thing

I will never understand.

 

Why did it happen to me?