My Pretty Angel...

(Based loosely on a Bruce Springsteen song: "Wreck on the Highway")

"Dammit! Why was I the one who was always in the wrong?" I muttered as I turned on the windshield wipers. They made a slapping noise that synced in rhythm to the song that was playing on the radio. I sighed. I needed some air, after the fight we had, so I had decided to go for a drive. I found myself traveling a little-used back road; in fact, it was not a road I normally traveled.

Up ahead, a terrible scene greeted me. I slammed on my brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. A cold, hard rain pelted me as I stepped out of my car. The fight I’d had with my fiancé was quickly put out of my mind.

A man lay on the rain-slicked highway. "Help me, please!" the man begged me. His overturned car was off in the ditch. Broken glass and fractured metal surrounded him. I carefully picked my way over to where he was, and I kneeled down to see if I could help. He was breathing, but he wasn't moving much. I couldn’t tell where he was bleeding from because there was blood everywhere. His head thrashed from side to side and he moaned. He must have been in a great deal of pain.

“Can you move anything?” I asked him. This time, he did not respond. I started to get up to call for help from my car, but just as I did so, he grabbed my hand and his eyes flew open.

"Don't leave me!" he cried.

"I'm going for help," I told him and gently disengaged my hand from his.

I ran to my car and called the police. "There's been an accident on Ocean-to-Ocean road. A man's been hurt!" I looked back towards him. He was just laying there. I was afraid he’d given up the fight to live.

"Well, how's he doing?" the dispatcher asked.

"He's breathing and he's been talking to me, but I think he's hurt really bad. He seems to be in a lot of pain and there’s blood everywhere."

"We'll be there ASAP! Stay with him, okay?"

"Okay." I hung up and ran back to the motionless body.
I picked up his hand and told him everything would be all right. He grasped my hand in response, and smiled weakly.

"Am I dyin'?" he whispered. I was afraid to look him in the face, in case he saw my fears reflected.

"No. Shhhh. You'll be okay." The rain drenched us both. I covered him with my coat, and waited for the ambulance. It was taking an awfully long time to get there. I continued to hold his hand and smoothed his forehead. Each breath he took seemed to be a laborious effort.

Suddenly, he relaxed. His hand went slack. I felt for a pulse, but I either could not locate it or he did not have one. I heard the ambulance siren in the distance. I hoped it wasn't too late to save the man.

I grabbed his hand again. I did not know what to do. "Don't die on me!" I begged him. "Please don't die." I felt helpless as his eyelids fluttered.

Luckily, the ambulance arrived just then. The paramedics rushed over and began working on him. The police arrived soon after and began to take my statement.

"I came upon him while I was coming home. I didn't see what happened. He was just lying there. For how long, I don’t know." The police officer took notes and asked me a few more questions.

I was shaking and shivering. I was given a blanket, but it quickly got wet as well. I tried to see if the paramedics had revived the accident victim, but they were blocking my view. Then I saw them roll him onto the stretcher. I still couldn't tell if he was breathing. I ran over to the ambulance.

"Where is she?" I heard him ask the paramedics. Thankfully, he was still alive!

"She who?" one of the paramedics asked.

"My pretty angel. She saved me."

"Here I am." I stepped up beside the stretcher and touched his hand. "Please, may I go with him?" The paramedics let me ride with the man to Riverside Hospital. It was a short drive, but it seemed interminable. A million thoughts raced through my head as the paramedic continued to work on the man. What if this had been me--or worse, my fiancé?

"You'll be okay now. We're going to the hospital," I assured him.

"I know. Thank you for all your help," he said, coughing a bit. I just held his hand. I did not even know this man, but I felt I had to see this through until the end.

Once at the hospital, he was into the emergency room, and after a quick assessment, I watched as they rolled him to the elevators, to take him to the surgical floor. I called home and told my fiancé where I was, and that he would need to come pick me up and take me back to my car. Our fight was all but forgotten.

Later, I saw a woman not much older than myself come in. Her face was tear-streaked. She held a shredded tissue in her hands. The doctor said something to her, pointed to me, and then she walked over to where I was sitting.

“Thank you for doing what you did for my brother. He’s all I have. We’re so lucky that you came along when you did.”

"How is he doing?"

"He'll be okay, thanks to you. He had some internal bleeding, and some broken bones. He's damn lucky he's alive." Her sadness gave way to anger at her brother's stupidity. "He never likes to wear the seatbelt."

"Ah. Well, I'm glad he's going to be okay." I saw my fiancé enter through the double doors. "I'll be going now. I'm glad I could help."

She nodded, and I took my leave. My fiancé and I were silent as we drove back to where I had left the car. I started to get out, and he put his hand on my sleeve.

"I'm sorry--for everything."

I turned back to look at him. "It's okay. We all have our difficult moments." I exited the car and got into my car and followed him home.

That night, I lay awake thinking about the accident victim. Almost losing him was like almost losing my own fiancé. Our fight had been stupid--over nothing.

His poor sister! I could not imagine what it would be like to have a state trooper knock at my door in the middle of the night. The rain did not let up all that night. I was tired, but sleep would not come.

I went to the window and looked out. Finally, the night sky was beginning to lighten, and the rain faded to a light mist. It looked like the sun was going to shine. I then walked back to the bed, climbed in, and held my fiancé tight.

“I’m sorry, too,” I whispered to him. He snored gently, and probably did not hear me. I didn’t even remember what our fight had been about. All I knew was that I needed to apologize for my peace of mind because I couldn’t lose him. He was my heart and soul. He was my life. I can't imagine how I would feel if he were ever hurt and dying along the side of the road somewhere.

In those last few minutes before dawn, I fell asleep and dreamed of an angel, who pointed me to that road on that night.

"My pretty angel," the accident victim had said. Was I an angel, or just lucky to turn down that road? I knew one thing for certain: an angel guided me to the man, but the man guided me as well. In an instant, it could all be over, just as the rain disappeared into the cracks on the highway.