The first cut is the deepest

by anna at 05:03 PM on December 11, 2003

When I was a new writer here, I decided it was time to share some anecdotes from my checkered past. One of my early attempts is seen here. Responses proved tepid, pity comments mostly. I now know why: Half the post is in a flippant, wise-cracking mode and then it turns all serious on a dime. Readers aren’t sure how to react to that. It’s the reason why movies described as comedy/dramas usually don’t work. Also, death is a major turnoff.

I mentioned the car accident in which Billy lost his life at age 16. Here I am going to elaborate on that horror. But first, you should know something about this guy and our relationship. We both moved in the same circles and we both played the class clown role. He had a sarcastic sense of humor that took a little getting used to. He saw and exploited the nuance in things. You might liken him to a wiry shortstop who bats in the leadoff spot, hits singles and steals bases. I swung for the fences, which made for some real funny moments but also some glaring mistakes that offended people. For a long time we mistrusted one another. But we got closer when he came to work as a dishwasher for my parents. He helped me tone down my act by explaining how badly certain things I’d do or say were perceived by others. It was an invaluable lesson.

It was along about this time that we made this movie. He played the hero, working from a script I’d penned. As an inside joke, I also played a mad scientist who creates the monster that terrorized the community until Billy rode in to save the day on my Honda 70 minibike.

So we got off work and hit the hash pipe. We then proceeded to hitchhike up to the local 7-11 where everyone used to hang out. A large Cadillac stopped. Inside were two guys: The aforementioned Bob, who may have boo-fooed Todd , and his friend Ted. Ted was driving. They were drunk and getting drunker. We noticed that they were heading in the wrong directions and Billy protested. Bob said not to worry, we were just going to drive around a little and catch a buzz. Then they’d drop us off at 7-11. We relaxed.

Ted was driving like a maniac. He approached a stretch of road that is divided by a median and a guardrail for about two miles. So he veers onto the wrong side of the road and guns it. 50, 60, 70 MPH on a windy, one lane suburban street. Our hearts were literally in our throats. Of course another car is heading straight for us. At the last second he jerks the wheel and the Caddy goes careening into someone’s yard. It demolished their carport.

When I awoke with my left arm shattered and blood spurting from numerous facial wounds, it was too late. Billy was clearly beyond help. I looked around and was surprised to note that we were alone. Bob the Blob and Ted had fled. Sirens were wailing in the distance. I guess I must have passed out because the next thing I know I’m strapped to a gurney at the hospital ER. Instead of doctors attending to my injuries, I’ve got these pushy cops surrounding me. They crassly informed my that “my little buddy” had “bought it.” Now I kind of knew that but hearing it still came as a shock. Then they informed me that I was under suspicion for the following offenses: 1) Grand Theft Auto 2) Driving while intoxicated 3) Possession of hashish 4) Destruction of Property 5) Voluntary Manslaughter. As always, they just had a few quick questions.

“Are you out of your fucking minds,” I bellowed. “I didn’t steal any goddamn car, I was just hitchhiking. And I sure didn’t kill anybody. I was in the back seat for crying out loud,” I added. So I ordered them away and about then my dad showed up and started throwing his considerable weight around. Soon enough they were gone, replaced by doctors and nurses. Emergency surgery was needed to save my splintered arm. The scars remain above and below my left eye. Not that I'm self-conscious about it or anything.

In the recovery room a more cordial detective started prodding me about the events leading up to the crash. I told him what I knew but as far as they were concerned, two teenage boys had rammed a stolen car into a carport and one of them was found dead in the backseat. The other was found passed out on the lawn. I told them about Bob, whose name and address I knew. He’s like, so who was driving? I said, “A guy I never met named Ted.” Eventually they did track the two of them down and straightened things out. But for a while there it seemed like some Kafkaesque nightmare scenario.

Of course a lawsuit was filed on my behalf but I really didn’t care. Years passed and every so often I’d hear from Billy’s dad, who acted as both my attorney and that of his deceased son's family (a clear conflict of interest.) In my second year of college my dad called and said the insurance company wanted to settle for $10,000. Otherwise I’d have to travel 300 miles home for the trial. It just so happened that the chick from the other auto accident (see Goodbye Kitty below) had moved out of the yahoos’ shack and back to her home in Charleston SC. That very day she’d come all the way up from there to pay me a surprise visit. I obviously told my dad to accept the money and send it to me ASAP. He calls back and says no, the lawyer thinks we stand to clear over $50,000 due to my injuries and psychological trauma. I’m like, dad I’ve got company. But he insists, and I’m on my way home. The trial took two days. The lawyer was inept at best. Jurors never heard about the gruesome fatality I’d witnessed. They awarded me $6,000, half of which I spent on an incredible Onkyo amp I still own. She, of course, was gone when I returned.