There are words for this, but they're meaningless.

After the toll booth, a wall of fog appeared. Traffic crawled, then halted. I idled in the middle lane, flanked on the right by a semi-trailer. We breached the fog at about the same time, but the truck slipped a few car-lengths farther forward. On NPR someone said something about some pressing issue, but I couldn't pay attention because in my rear-view mirror a luxury sedan was barreling into the fog-bank at a speed I can't estimate but knew was inadvisable.

I made every effort to become visible despite the fog. I laid into the horn, turned on the hazards, and at the last moment, as I readied for impact, I was seen.

The sedan switched lanes, slammed into the semi, spun some and, irrevocably crushed, fell from the road.

I pulled over and jumped from the car, ran to help, as did someone else, maybe the driver of the semi, but someone from that direction. We reached the sedan at about the same time, him dialing 911, me pointing at the car, us running toward it together to help, but there was no one to help.

What was there, in the car, was beyond help.

I must've stumbled, or leaned forward, because the vomit was over my right arm, as if I'd braced myself beforehand. I took off my shirt, looked at the other man, who either puked first or reacted to me, and we stared, not at each other so much, but still, we stared and I felt that he felt the act was mutual. Was a recognition.

I made my way to my car.

I drove to campus.

Bought a sweatshirt from the bookstore and ran into a friend on the way to class. His "How are you?" loosed a torrent of unprocessed words punctuated by profanity, words that made what happened mean, in the basest sense. I went to class, set the kids to writing, walked out of the class. Called the wife, who talked me into telling them what happened. I did. Said they could peer review what they'd written and I'd let them go.

Then I didn't. Said instead that I would teach the class, that it was better than the meaningless pacing, the nothing I could do to erase what I'd seen, the nothing I could've done to have done something. I fell into the rhythm of the class, lectured more than I usually do, but forgot, for those minutes, what I'd seen, what I'd done but couldn't do.

Now I'm in the library writing this. Writing helps. It's the process. It's what makes the word mean what they mean. I still have another hour and fifteen minutes until my next class, and now that I've written this, I'm not sure what to do. I think I might describe a circle around the campus, sate hunger with weary, because food is not a viable option at the moment.

Comments

[NickS]

...

...

I read this about 10 minutes ago and I'm still sitting here in shock.

[The Modesto Kid]

I just read this a minute ago and am sitting here in shock. And being sorry for you for having to go through that.

[rob helpy-chalk]

Oof, I'm sorry this happened.

[The Modesto Kid]

...and thankful, that the sedan did not slam into you.

[The Boss]

Advice for all of us at end.

[tomemos]

I think that the more you're able to talk about this, the better. Good luck.

[cp]

You've always seemed like a hell of a guy. Best wishes from an internet stranger. Take care of yourself, please.

[SEK]

Thanks, all. I'm still in shock, and still need to talk to the police, I think, but I'm not sure which ones because I'm not sure where I was (that stretch of the toll road darts through the mountains so there's no way to tell what city you're in or, honestly, whether you're even near a city), but I'm fairly sure I was still in Riverside County and there's no CHP incident listing for Riverside County, so I suppose I need to just call some police and get transferred to whatever place is appropriate for wherever I was.

[SEK]

Never mind. There's a "filed incidents" page that tells me what I need to know, even if it only goes back to 9:36 a.m., which is well after it happened.

[SEK]

Want weird? Look at the Google Map for the toll roads. If you zoom out, you can see what I mean by their being nothing, but they seem to have buried the toll booths under a stretch of phantom highway or something. That's where they should be.

['stina]

Jesus, that sounds horrible. Take care of yourself.

[GeoX]

Condolences from some random dude on the internet. Being violently pressed face-to-face with human mortality like that is a horribly traumatic thing to experience.

[josef_kaye]

I don't know if this is any help but it's all I can think of.

http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=359

Take care.

[Karl Steel]

Jesus. Sorry.

[PhilosopherP]

I'm so sorry this happened at all... I just lost a good friend who was rear-ended while stopped in construction. Her small car was hit by a Honda going 80... she survived a while, but died of internal injuries.

The family was comforted when the person who held my friend's hand in the ditch came to the funeral.

[Ahistoricality]

Scott, I'm glad you're not hurt, and hope you'll be better soon.

[Vance Maverick]

Holy crap. SEK, vicissitude magnet. Hang in there.

[Jana]

It's the absolute randomness of it all that hits so hard. With you on this one.

[Sisyphus]

Ah, I'm sorry luv. Glad you're ok and sorry you had to witness that. Be careful. And hug all your loved ones extra tight.

[Martin Wisse]

Damn. Take care, do what you have to do.