The Do Over
Thunk, pat, thunk, pat, thunk, pat. Hallie’s yellow sneakers slam onto the concrete. There was a rhythm to the sound they made. Thunk, pat, thunk, pat, thunk, pat. A thousand thoughts had filled her head just moments earlier. Thoughts of anger, of hate. Of words she wished she could take back and a punch she wished she had thrown. But none of it mattered on the corner of Willowsbrook and Kennedy Road. Her music roared so loud, her muscles burned so strong, her body dripped with sweat, and not a single thought could possibly break through.
Halsey’s lyrics drummed in her ears. “I, I keep a record of the wreckage in my life. I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind. They talk shit, but I love it every time. And I realize-“
BOOM!
The noise was louder than anything Hallie had ever heard. Her eyes locked with a girl her age whose face was painted with horror. That’s the last image in her mind. The way her eyes bulged out of her flesh in raw panic. Her mouth drawn back in a gaping hole of agony.
A searing pain crawled up through Hallie’s chest, like her rib cage was on fire, and then there was nothing. Just black. Black, black nothing.
“I don’t have anything to say,” I snap at the woman, doctor.... why can’t I remember her name?
“She’s only trying to help you and you’re being rude,” my mother’s voice chides me in my head. Even when she’s not here, she’s a pain in my ass.
“Do you remember anything about that day?”
The doctor- a different doctor, there’s been so many- told me that sometimes humans forget traumas. They’re too much for the mind to grasp, so they just disappear. Like your brain going over the awful memory in whiteout. Not mine though. It was my penitence to remember it. To replay it over and over in my head every single second of every single day.
“Everything,” I mumble.
There’s no use lying to your doctor. They already know everything.
“Can you tell me about it?” she continues to bother me.
I sigh, beginning my well rehearsed speech. I gave it to the first doctors, the first cops, the other doctors, the other cops, the assistant prosecutor, more cops, the head prosecutor, and eventually a jury of twelve of Nigel’s peers.
“It all started because Elena had started fucking around on Tinder.”
I stared out the front of the windshield, watching the empty streets dance in front of me.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asked me.
I crossed my arms, not saying a word. If I spoke right now I would just scream and I did not want to scream.
“You’re really gonna be like that, huh?” Nigel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
I wanted to make him hurt. Really hurt. Maybe I would give him a quick uppercut to the jaw. Break his nose. He certainly deserved it.
“Is this your idea of making up?” I asked him. “Cause your doing a real fucking good job.”
Nigel clenched the steering wheel tighter. “I’m trying to have a nice fucking time, but you’re still stuck in the past. How the hell are we supposed to make up then?”
“The past?! It was three days ago! Sorry, it’s taken me more than three days to get over the fact that six minutes after we broke up I find you on Tinder!” my voice got louder with very word, filling the car to the brim. “One year of a relationship and it took you six fucking minutes to be done!”
“Only because you were ignoring our relationship for so fucking long it felt like we were done for months!” Nigel shouted back.
I couldn’t help, but let out a laugh. “That’s so fucking typical of you. Blame anything that breathes instead of taking a shrewd of personal responsibility.”
Nigel shook his head. “Why’d I even bother inviting you to go out?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t find anyone better on Tinder?” I snapped back.
Nigel turned his head sharply to me. “If you bring that shit up one more fucking-“
Avoiding eye contact, I turned to look out the windshield. The shape of a thin girl grew bigger and bigger through the glass.
“NIGEL!” I screamed, but it was already too late.
Nigel glanced out the window. His eyes grew into saucers as he slammed on the breaks.
BOOM!
The car slammed into her body at 40 miles per hour. She rolled up on top of the car, her head slamming into the windshield. It made the most awful cracking noise I’ve ever heard. Blood sprayed across the glass, turning his white car red.
Nigel didn’t say a word. He just stared at the massacre in front of him. Zero emotions played on his face. Nothing. He sat frozen, unable to comprehend the horror mounting in front of him.
I jumped out of the car. The girl was my age, maybe almost exactly. Her body was contorted in all sorts of ways like she was about to lose a game of Twister. There was so much blood. I had never seen so much blood. Nigel blinked at me from the driver’s seat, red cracks running through the windshield as though his face was splintered into two. I leaned over and puked.
“So you blame yourself for the girl’s death?” my new little therapist asks.
“The girl’s name was Hallie Spirling. She had a mom and a dad and a little sister. She had friends. They gave speeches at her funeral. She was a person. A real living person. Not just some girl,” I correct her.
“So you blame yourself for Hallie’s death?”
I glance up at the clock. Ten seconds. I can sit in silence for ten seconds. Each one goes by extra slowly, but the moment the clock hits two thirty I bolt out of my chair.
“I guess we’ll save that question for next time,” I half smile, charging toward the door.
“Kristina?” the doctor asks.
“Yes?”
“Your homework for the next two days is to write out a list of everything that’s happened because of the accident. On Thursday, we’ll work on how you can change the choices you’re making to better your future.”
“I don’t want a better future. I want a better past. Can you give that, Doctor?”
My stomach churns. As children, when we’d do something wrong we’d get a do over. Mom would let us pretend to go make and re-do the situation, making the right choices this time. That’s what I need now.
Can you give me a do over?” I plead with her, hoping she’ll pull out some voodoo magic.
“You know, we can’t go back. All we can do is march forward.”
I don’t know about this “we” business. All that is here is me. Hallie is dead. Nigel is serving five years for manslaughter. And I am so completely alone.
“How was it?” Mom asks me on the way home with an incredible enthusiasm as though I just got back from summer camp.
“Not gonna make me re-enroll in school any time soon,” I snip from the passenger side.
That’s all my mom really cared about. She didn’t really give a shit about how I was doing in therapy. She cared about when I would start putting makeup back on and brushing my hair. She cared about me wearing brighter clothes, enrolling back in college, and acting all perfect for her country club friends. That I would go back to being the daughter she was proud enough to brag to them about. Not the daughter that people spoke of in harsh undertones and street whispers.
Mom’s face falls. “Kristina, you gotta give this a shot, even if it feels like it’s not working right now.”
“Right,” I agree with her because it’s not worth the fight.
The moment we get home, I charge up the stairs and into my room, falling into my soft bed. I wonder if Nigel had a bed in prison. Tears slide down my face as the day crashes over me. I clasp my fingers together. Before the accident, it was an accident, I was deeply religious. Went to church every Sunday even in college. Joined a good Christian club. But how could anyone believe in God after seeing hell on earth. I still pray because I have nothing else.
“Dear God in heaven, if your listening right now I need a do-over. Please, just one moment to go back and change what I said to Nigel. Please, help me. It would save someone’s life- three someone’s. Please. Just one chance. It’s all I need. I can’t go on like this. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live like this.”
BOOM! The sound of someone pounding on my door jolts me awake. I rub the fuzz out of my eyes.
“Kristina?! You up?!” Mom yells from the other side of the door.
“Now I am,” I growl. It isn’t like I have anything to get up for.
“Hurry up! Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs!”
My eyes widen. I leap out of bed, flinging my door open.
“What did you say?”
Mom frowns. “Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs. He said you guys are going out to lunch.”
I glance behind mom. Nigel stands at the bottom of the stairs. His milky brown eyes lock with mine. He holds a bouquet of flowers, a soft shameful smile dancing on the corners of his lips. I sprint down the stairs two at a time and throw my arms around him.
“Kristie, I’m so sorry about how-“
Tears collect in my eyes. “I don’t care. I missed you so much. You have no idea.”
Nigel’s arms pull me in closer to his body. “I missed you too.”
Not ten minutes later, we’re driving down the street in his car, his hand intertwined with mine.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asks me.
“How bout Joe’s?” I respond just like I should have the first time.
“A classic. I love it. Joe’s it is,” Nigel says with a grin painted across his face.
We pass by the corner of Willowsbrook and Kennedy Road. Hallie Spirling runs across the street and we pass straight by her. A wide smile curls across my mouth. We were all gonna live now. We all get to live the most beautiful lives.
“I really love you, Nigel,” I confess.
Nigel eyes crinkle in the corners like they always did when he was happy. “I really love you too.”
That night, Nigel and I curl up on my couch, my head on his chest, a smile dancing across my face. We are right where we’re supposed to be. I flip on the TV. The news flashes on.
BREAKING NEWS: Drunk teen driver crashes on bridge. 23 DEAD.
“That’s horrible,” Nigel murmurs.
On screen they play live footage of a body bag being wheeled into an ambulance. Thin blonde hair pokes out of the sides.
“How awful,” I mutter.
23 dead. Imagine being responsible for destroying that many lives. How could you go on?
“The alleged driver is said to be Hallie Spirling who was driving drunk home from a party. She passed away in the accident,” the news anchor reports.
I gasp. My stomach lurches. Vomit rises up in my throat. Nigel was supposed to kill her today. And now 23 people were dead. I jump off the couch and run into the bathroom.
“Kristie? You okay?” Nigel shouts from the other room.
23 people. 23 living, breathing peo- I lean over the toliet and puke. We played God, messing with fate. And God played us right back. Chills crawl up my back. We never should have done what we did. Never should have challenged fate. I clasp my hands together.
“Dear God in Heaven. Please, give me another do over. Please, I messed up. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done anything! Please! Just one last chance! I promise I’ll fix everything.”
“Kristina!” Mom shouts from the other room.
I bolt up. I’m in my bed again. I glance out the window. The sun has risen.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Hurry up! Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs!”
My heart stops for half a second. I have to set things right this time. I quickly get ready and run down the stairs to meet Nigel.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asked me as we drive down the street.
My stomach flip flops. This is wrong. So, so wrong. 23 people are dead, I remind myself. 23 real life people with parents, and friends, and jobs. I cross my arms and turn to look out the window. That’s what I did the first time. Ignore him.
“You’re really gonna be like that, huh?” Nigel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Guilt creeps into my skin. I’m about to put this kid in prison. Right now, I have the chance to stop it and I won’t.
“Is this your idea of making up?” I force myself to growl. “Cause your doing a real fucking good job.”
Nigel clenched the steering wheel tighter. “I’m trying to have a nice fucking time, but your still stuck in the past. How the hell are we supposed to make up then?”
I see the street coming up. The one where he will turn and Hallie will cross and she will die and I will testify and Nigel will go to prison.
“Sorry, it’s taken me more than three days to get over the fact that six minutes after we broke up I find you on Tinder!” I shout at him because that’s what I’m supposed to do. “Sorry, I’m not like you who can just toss relationships around like they’re fucking tennis balls!”
“You know that’s not true!” Nigel shouted back.
I glance out the window again, unable to look at the love of my life who will soon be behind bars because of me.
Except, Hallie is no where insight. Instead, a mother pushing a baby stroller steps off the curb as she talks on her cell phone.
“STOP!” I shriek at Nigel, but he’s already making his sharp turn on the corner of Willowsbrook and Kennedy Road.
BAM! The car drives straight their perfect suburban life. A piercing scream carries through the wind as a stroller flies in the air. I glance over to the side. Hallie stands on the edge side walk, seconds from death.
My eyes widen in horror. A mother’s head goes through Nigel’s windshield. Blood rushes through the car. Nigel doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. Frozen in horror as the baby rolls on to the sidewalk, more blood than skin.
I clasp my hands together. A baby.
The tears roll down my face as I sob in the Dr’s room.
“Kristie, sometimes we tell ourselves stories to compartmentalize what we’ve done,” The doctor starts to explain. “To give sense and order to the chaotic unpredictability of life.”
I shake my head. She doesn’t get it. That’s not what this is. I wring my hands inside each other.
“Dear God please just one more do-over. Please, please, please.”
Halsey’s lyrics drummed in her ears. “I, I keep a record of the wreckage in my life. I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind. They talk shit, but I love it every time. And I realize-“
BOOM!
The noise was louder than anything Hallie had ever heard. Her eyes locked with a girl her age whose face was painted with horror. That’s the last image in her mind. The way her eyes bulged out of her flesh in raw panic. Her mouth drawn back in a gaping hole of agony.
A searing pain crawled up through Hallie’s chest, like her rib cage was on fire, and then there was nothing. Just black. Black, black nothing.
“I don’t have anything to say,” I snap at the woman, doctor.... why can’t I remember her name?
“She’s only trying to help you and you’re being rude,” my mother’s voice chides me in my head. Even when she’s not here, she’s a pain in my ass.
“Do you remember anything about that day?”
The doctor- a different doctor, there’s been so many- told me that sometimes humans forget traumas. They’re too much for the mind to grasp, so they just disappear. Like your brain going over the awful memory in whiteout. Not mine though. It was my penitence to remember it. To replay it over and over in my head every single second of every single day.
“Everything,” I mumble.
There’s no use lying to your doctor. They already know everything.
“Can you tell me about it?” she continues to bother me.
I sigh, beginning my well rehearsed speech. I gave it to the first doctors, the first cops, the other doctors, the other cops, the assistant prosecutor, more cops, the head prosecutor, and eventually a jury of twelve of Nigel’s peers.
“It all started because Elena had started fucking around on Tinder.”
I stared out the front of the windshield, watching the empty streets dance in front of me.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asked me.
I crossed my arms, not saying a word. If I spoke right now I would just scream and I did not want to scream.
“You’re really gonna be like that, huh?” Nigel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
I wanted to make him hurt. Really hurt. Maybe I would give him a quick uppercut to the jaw. Break his nose. He certainly deserved it.
“Is this your idea of making up?” I asked him. “Cause your doing a real fucking good job.”
Nigel clenched the steering wheel tighter. “I’m trying to have a nice fucking time, but you’re still stuck in the past. How the hell are we supposed to make up then?”
“The past?! It was three days ago! Sorry, it’s taken me more than three days to get over the fact that six minutes after we broke up I find you on Tinder!” my voice got louder with very word, filling the car to the brim. “One year of a relationship and it took you six fucking minutes to be done!”
“Only because you were ignoring our relationship for so fucking long it felt like we were done for months!” Nigel shouted back.
I couldn’t help, but let out a laugh. “That’s so fucking typical of you. Blame anything that breathes instead of taking a shrewd of personal responsibility.”
Nigel shook his head. “Why’d I even bother inviting you to go out?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t find anyone better on Tinder?” I snapped back.
Nigel turned his head sharply to me. “If you bring that shit up one more fucking-“
Avoiding eye contact, I turned to look out the windshield. The shape of a thin girl grew bigger and bigger through the glass.
“NIGEL!” I screamed, but it was already too late.
Nigel glanced out the window. His eyes grew into saucers as he slammed on the breaks.
BOOM!
The car slammed into her body at 40 miles per hour. She rolled up on top of the car, her head slamming into the windshield. It made the most awful cracking noise I’ve ever heard. Blood sprayed across the glass, turning his white car red.
Nigel didn’t say a word. He just stared at the massacre in front of him. Zero emotions played on his face. Nothing. He sat frozen, unable to comprehend the horror mounting in front of him.
I jumped out of the car. The girl was my age, maybe almost exactly. Her body was contorted in all sorts of ways like she was about to lose a game of Twister. There was so much blood. I had never seen so much blood. Nigel blinked at me from the driver’s seat, red cracks running through the windshield as though his face was splintered into two. I leaned over and puked.
“So you blame yourself for the girl’s death?” my new little therapist asks.
“The girl’s name was Hallie Spirling. She had a mom and a dad and a little sister. She had friends. They gave speeches at her funeral. She was a person. A real living person. Not just some girl,” I correct her.
“So you blame yourself for Hallie’s death?”
I glance up at the clock. Ten seconds. I can sit in silence for ten seconds. Each one goes by extra slowly, but the moment the clock hits two thirty I bolt out of my chair.
“I guess we’ll save that question for next time,” I half smile, charging toward the door.
“Kristina?” the doctor asks.
“Yes?”
“Your homework for the next two days is to write out a list of everything that’s happened because of the accident. On Thursday, we’ll work on how you can change the choices you’re making to better your future.”
“I don’t want a better future. I want a better past. Can you give that, Doctor?”
My stomach churns. As children, when we’d do something wrong we’d get a do over. Mom would let us pretend to go make and re-do the situation, making the right choices this time. That’s what I need now.
Can you give me a do over?” I plead with her, hoping she’ll pull out some voodoo magic.
“You know, we can’t go back. All we can do is march forward.”
I don’t know about this “we” business. All that is here is me. Hallie is dead. Nigel is serving five years for manslaughter. And I am so completely alone.
“How was it?” Mom asks me on the way home with an incredible enthusiasm as though I just got back from summer camp.
“Not gonna make me re-enroll in school any time soon,” I snip from the passenger side.
That’s all my mom really cared about. She didn’t really give a shit about how I was doing in therapy. She cared about when I would start putting makeup back on and brushing my hair. She cared about me wearing brighter clothes, enrolling back in college, and acting all perfect for her country club friends. That I would go back to being the daughter she was proud enough to brag to them about. Not the daughter that people spoke of in harsh undertones and street whispers.
Mom’s face falls. “Kristina, you gotta give this a shot, even if it feels like it’s not working right now.”
“Right,” I agree with her because it’s not worth the fight.
The moment we get home, I charge up the stairs and into my room, falling into my soft bed. I wonder if Nigel had a bed in prison. Tears slide down my face as the day crashes over me. I clasp my fingers together. Before the accident, it was an accident, I was deeply religious. Went to church every Sunday even in college. Joined a good Christian club. But how could anyone believe in God after seeing hell on earth. I still pray because I have nothing else.
“Dear God in heaven, if your listening right now I need a do-over. Please, just one moment to go back and change what I said to Nigel. Please, help me. It would save someone’s life- three someone’s. Please. Just one chance. It’s all I need. I can’t go on like this. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live like this.”
BOOM! The sound of someone pounding on my door jolts me awake. I rub the fuzz out of my eyes.
“Kristina?! You up?!” Mom yells from the other side of the door.
“Now I am,” I growl. It isn’t like I have anything to get up for.
“Hurry up! Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs!”
My eyes widen. I leap out of bed, flinging my door open.
“What did you say?”
Mom frowns. “Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs. He said you guys are going out to lunch.”
I glance behind mom. Nigel stands at the bottom of the stairs. His milky brown eyes lock with mine. He holds a bouquet of flowers, a soft shameful smile dancing on the corners of his lips. I sprint down the stairs two at a time and throw my arms around him.
“Kristie, I’m so sorry about how-“
Tears collect in my eyes. “I don’t care. I missed you so much. You have no idea.”
Nigel’s arms pull me in closer to his body. “I missed you too.”
Not ten minutes later, we’re driving down the street in his car, his hand intertwined with mine.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asks me.
“How bout Joe’s?” I respond just like I should have the first time.
“A classic. I love it. Joe’s it is,” Nigel says with a grin painted across his face.
We pass by the corner of Willowsbrook and Kennedy Road. Hallie Spirling runs across the street and we pass straight by her. A wide smile curls across my mouth. We were all gonna live now. We all get to live the most beautiful lives.
“I really love you, Nigel,” I confess.
Nigel eyes crinkle in the corners like they always did when he was happy. “I really love you too.”
That night, Nigel and I curl up on my couch, my head on his chest, a smile dancing across my face. We are right where we’re supposed to be. I flip on the TV. The news flashes on.
BREAKING NEWS: Drunk teen driver crashes on bridge. 23 DEAD.
“That’s horrible,” Nigel murmurs.
On screen they play live footage of a body bag being wheeled into an ambulance. Thin blonde hair pokes out of the sides.
“How awful,” I mutter.
23 dead. Imagine being responsible for destroying that many lives. How could you go on?
“The alleged driver is said to be Hallie Spirling who was driving drunk home from a party. She passed away in the accident,” the news anchor reports.
I gasp. My stomach lurches. Vomit rises up in my throat. Nigel was supposed to kill her today. And now 23 people were dead. I jump off the couch and run into the bathroom.
“Kristie? You okay?” Nigel shouts from the other room.
23 people. 23 living, breathing peo- I lean over the toliet and puke. We played God, messing with fate. And God played us right back. Chills crawl up my back. We never should have done what we did. Never should have challenged fate. I clasp my hands together.
“Dear God in Heaven. Please, give me another do over. Please, I messed up. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done anything! Please! Just one last chance! I promise I’ll fix everything.”
“Kristina!” Mom shouts from the other room.
I bolt up. I’m in my bed again. I glance out the window. The sun has risen.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Hurry up! Nigel’s waiting for you downstairs!”
My heart stops for half a second. I have to set things right this time. I quickly get ready and run down the stairs to meet Nigel.
“Where do you want to eat?” Nigel asked me as we drive down the street.
My stomach flip flops. This is wrong. So, so wrong. 23 people are dead, I remind myself. 23 real life people with parents, and friends, and jobs. I cross my arms and turn to look out the window. That’s what I did the first time. Ignore him.
“You’re really gonna be like that, huh?” Nigel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Guilt creeps into my skin. I’m about to put this kid in prison. Right now, I have the chance to stop it and I won’t.
“Is this your idea of making up?” I force myself to growl. “Cause your doing a real fucking good job.”
Nigel clenched the steering wheel tighter. “I’m trying to have a nice fucking time, but your still stuck in the past. How the hell are we supposed to make up then?”
I see the street coming up. The one where he will turn and Hallie will cross and she will die and I will testify and Nigel will go to prison.
“Sorry, it’s taken me more than three days to get over the fact that six minutes after we broke up I find you on Tinder!” I shout at him because that’s what I’m supposed to do. “Sorry, I’m not like you who can just toss relationships around like they’re fucking tennis balls!”
“You know that’s not true!” Nigel shouted back.
I glance out the window again, unable to look at the love of my life who will soon be behind bars because of me.
Except, Hallie is no where insight. Instead, a mother pushing a baby stroller steps off the curb as she talks on her cell phone.
“STOP!” I shriek at Nigel, but he’s already making his sharp turn on the corner of Willowsbrook and Kennedy Road.
BAM! The car drives straight their perfect suburban life. A piercing scream carries through the wind as a stroller flies in the air. I glance over to the side. Hallie stands on the edge side walk, seconds from death.
My eyes widen in horror. A mother’s head goes through Nigel’s windshield. Blood rushes through the car. Nigel doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. Frozen in horror as the baby rolls on to the sidewalk, more blood than skin.
I clasp my hands together. A baby.
The tears roll down my face as I sob in the Dr’s room.
“Kristie, sometimes we tell ourselves stories to compartmentalize what we’ve done,” The doctor starts to explain. “To give sense and order to the chaotic unpredictability of life.”
I shake my head. She doesn’t get it. That’s not what this is. I wring my hands inside each other.
“Dear God please just one more do-over. Please, please, please.”