Melodrama and Thrills

I can’t write about anything in my life right now that does not have to do with a tiny gymnastics performing tadpole in my belly, so I’m going to devote this NaBloPoMo day to a blast from the past, a thrilling near death experience that I rarely recall, but vividly remember when I do.  In keeping with the theme, though, it has to do with maternal love, the inhuman physical power of a mother whose children are threatened, and a mother being willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice.  It’s all about moms around here these days.  Hormones and such.

 

SCENE:

Early evening, dark, balmy.  Late spring, 1987.  A 4 lane highway along a strip mall in San Diego, CA, with a wide sidewalk.  A family of six is walking along the sidewalk.

 

CAST:

ED – 36 years old, 6 feet tall and skinny

CATHY – 38, 5’4” and still recovering from the recent birth of her fourth child (this is their first venture out as a family since the latest baby came – a dinner trip to Sizzler’s Steakhouse)

RANDY – less than a month old, blissfully asleep in a stroller that CATHY is pushing

CAKI – just about to turn 2 years old, a mop of curly brown hair on top of two stubby legs, holding ED’s hand

AMANDA – just turned 5, another brown mop top, holding GILLIAN’s hand

GILLIAN – 8 years old, the tallest mop head, holding tight to AMANDA per CATHY’s stern instructions

 

ACTION:

The family is walking along the street, CATHY fussing over RANDY’s comfort, while GILLIAN and AMANDA hang on each other’s arms, alternately fighting and playing with one another.  ED drags a reluctant and tantrum-throwing CAKI along the street, trying to decide whether to laugh at her ridiculous dramatics or throw her into oncoming traffic.  They come to a stoplight that is red, and CATHY gathers all of her children to her, assuring that they stop and wait for the light to turn green before crossing.

 

The light turns green, a white “GO” sign appears, and the family begins to cross, CATHY and ED admonishing their older children to hurry up and stay close to them.  Despite this, GILLIAN and AMANDA continue to lag a few steps behind, and as CATHY and ED and the younger children are stepping onto the safety of the far sidewalk, GILLIAN and AMANDA are still approaching the corner.

 

<Sound cue: Revving motorcycle engine, approaching>

<Light cue: Bright spotlight on GILLIAN and AMANDA>

 

A bright light illuminates the two older children, as we hear the sound of an approaching motor of some kind.  GILLIAN is holding tightly to AMANDA’s hands, as she was firmly instructed to, and turns her face into the light.  She knows that whoever is driving the thing with headlights pointed at them must be an adult, and so in that split second she decides that if she and AMANDA just stand perfectly still, the adult will see them and go around them.  Adults are smarter than kids.  AMANDA tries to squirm away, but GILLIAN holds her tight, certain that freezing in this one spot is the right choice.

 

From the sidewalk, CATHY turns and sees a motorcycle speeding toward her two oldest children.  While ED is still turning his head, CATHY is sprinting toward the street.  She steps onto the pavement and reaches out, grabbing each girl by a shoulder, roughly shoving them behind her onto the safety of the sidewalk.  As they fly past the bulk of her body, the motorcycle connects with them.  GILLIAN’s lower leg is burned by one of the wheels.  AMANDA feels a tickle on the back of her neck – the rider’s knee.  CATHY, who had bent double to reach the girls and is still half prone, is sideswiped in the neck by the rider’s right handlebar.  It leaves an angry welt that she does not feel.

 

The MOTORCYCLIST has realized too late that he should have stopped at the red light, and seconds after sailing past the family tries to belatedly correct his trajectory.  He flips over once, twice, and ends up careening across the intersection on his side, sparks flying, spinning around and around and around.  Miraculously, it is the point of traffic flow when all lanes have a red light, and he has an entire empty intersection to spin through, unimpeded, before finally coming to a stop.  He slowly picks up his motorcycle and pushes it off the silent street toward the family, limping, shaking, with 12 lanes of drivers stone still in their cars, blinking at him, no one moving.  CATHY lets out an inhuman wail, a battle cry of fury, and ED pins her arms behind her as she lunges for the MOTORCYCLIST.

 

MOTORCYCLIST: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jesus are those kids ok, I’m so sorry.

ED, struggling with CATHY, who is screeching and jabbering incoherently, eyes aflame: They’re fine, it’s all fine, please just go.

KIND PASSERBY WHO STOPS TO HELP: Are you ok sir?  You took quite a spill out there.

MOTORCYCLIST: I don’t care about me, I’m just worried about those kids.  Those girls, are they ok?  I didn’t hit them?  Are they ok?

CATHY:GRREEEMFICKSHMEEERRRSOOMMMBTTCCHHKIIIIILLLLLLMAAAAKIIIDDDSS DEEEEEEEEDDDGRRAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKK

ED: Everything is fine, girls are you ok?  They’re ok, it’s fine, just go.

MOTORCYCLIST: Would you like my information, in case something turns out wrong?

ED: No, really, everybody’s ok, just go ahead.

 

The KIND PASSERBY helps the MOTORCYCLIST remount his cycle and ride on, avoiding looking at CATHY, who is fighting her husband’s grip.  GILLIAN and AMANDA are blinking wide-eyed at their parents, very, very scared of their mother.  CATHY suddenly bursts into violent sobs and screams out “RANDY!!”, then turns toward her baby, who is still sleeping peacefully in his stroller.

 

ED: Randy’s fine, he was up here with me, he was nowhere near.

CATHY, lifting him out of his stroller, shaking him awake until he cries: Randy, are you ok, wake up, are you hurt?  Caki, Caki where are you, are you ok?  Come here, all of you, come here.

 

CATHY gathers her children to her and refuses to walk on to the car until she has manhandled each one of them.  She checks AMANDA’s and GILLIAN’s ears, necks, heads, limbs, poking and squeezing their bodies and asking if anything hurts, which it does, but only because she is squeezing so hard.  She gathers them all in a tight knot and they move slowly toward their car, which was in sight the whole time, in a parking lot across the street from Sizzler, while ED continues to try to talk her down.  Tomorrow every muscle will ache, not least her neck, which will trouble her for years afterward.  But all of her children are safe, and well, and (for the most part) uninjured, and for that she would have traded not only her neck, but her life.

 

Many years later, when GILLIAN began to drive and became aware of other drivers, she thought again of her blind 8-year-old faith in the MOTORCYCLIST, and realized with a shudder that a few inches of displacement in space could have killed or maimed both her and her sister that night.  Many years after that, when GILLIAN became pregnant, she understood that saying “I would throw my body in traffic for this child” is not just a metaphor for love, and that a mother’s deep fear is not that she will one day be required to stand between her children and a speeding vehicle – but that she won’t be able to get there fast enough.**

 

**this sentiment, in slightly different words, was recently expressed by Amy on amalah.com.  Credit where credit is due.