If I only could have…
Every regret starts with that.
I just had finished a conversation with Alexandre—one of those difficult ones because he wasn’t very good at being positive on collaboration. And that’s when I looked down at my phone.
Chris had called me earlier and in the midst of the difficult conversation, I didn’t pick up and selected the text message “can’t talk, what’s up”. I instantly forgot about it and saw the text message that simply stated “Chris was hit by a car at Valencia and Market. Probably going to SF general”. Immediately, I called back. No answer. As is my habit, I walked out to the hallway to have privacy from others. My coworker was leaving and saw my face. “What’s wrong?” she said.
I was surprised that she was able to read my face. As I didn’t realize that my expression was that evident. I mumbled that Chris was hit by a car. She returned that she hoped everything was okay.
I immediately went back and packed up, asking the CEO directly whether we had Friday off. She said that we did.
I packed up my stuff and thought about what to do. Take a Lyft. Get there as soon as possible. I walked out of the building, wondering how everyone was walking around, thinking that their lives were okay. They were going home. And my life could be changed. I found my lyft app which I hadn’t used for a long time and was relieved that I was able to get it working pretty easily. I found a regular lyft and selected my point. But I was heaving, crying, but not crying. I kept trying to call. And I simply texted back hoping that someone would answer. “omw”
I had missed the call by 15 minutes. If I had picked up, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. But I didn’t know.
I knew that chris was probably on a bike. That bad things happen. I thought about Tess and how she was killed. I thought about everything…all the near-death accidents by car. I thought about that. I thought about how all of this could happen. And how whenever I heard of a bike accident, I hoped that it wasn’t ever someone I knew to add to the statistic. And how horrible it was to ride a bike and not having cyclists be given a time of day.
As I waited for the Lyft, I browsed Citizen hoping that i could get any information. Just any infomraiton. But nothing. No answer to my phone call. No answer to my text. I had no idea. And I imagined how lonely chris would be on the asphalt. The bike to the side. How upset he would be with his things strewn. I had to be at the scene, not the hospital. I had to make sure all his things were htere.
I also thought about how I would have to communicate with his mother. How I would have to talk about how we actually moved in together. About all the stuff. About how he didn’t talk to her anymore.
I thought about how we still weren’t married and I didn’t have that many legal rights. I thought about how complicated it was. About what it meant if I had to take care of his assets. About how often we talked about this…but end up joking about it. And nothing ever happened.
I thought about whether he had any regrets about it.
I was still heaving tearless sobs when I got into the Lyft. I wanted to tell the driver why I was distraught. But I didn’t want to explain myself since I didn’t have any information. But I didn’t want the Lyft driver to do anything drastic to get to the scene of the accident. Like driving fast. So I waited. And I made another call. No answer.
I imagined that life would be different. How I wasn’t that strong. But he was. How I wanted to yell at the driver that hit him. And all the other drivers who did terrible things to cyclists. And how nobody respected bikes and people on bike. And how he would be another statistic.
“See the lights up there,” I said to the Lyft driver. “That’s where I am going. My boyfriend was hit by a car.”
“Oh, what happened?” the driver said, now understanding.
“I don’t know.”
We arrived and the driver said to be careful as we were in the middle of traffic. No ambulance. Just the police officers there. “What’s wrong?” the officer said as I had gotten out in the middle of the traffic right to the island.
“I got a call that my boyfriend was hit by a car here—at Valencia and Market,” I said, nearly wailing.
“Oh he’s okay. Just scape and bruises. He’s in one piece. They took him to the hospital as a precaution.”
I hesitated at that comment, because I knew that chris wouldn’t agree to an expensive ride unless it was serious. But I stayed quiet.
“SF General?”
“Kaiser.”
“He’s fine.”
And then I was okay. it was okay. It was okay.