Accidental

In the blink of a random question crossing my mind, it happened, and everything changed. She ran without thinking, looking neither left nor right, darting into the street toward the one who made her smile. All the driver could have seen was a blond blob of hair bouncing over his car's roof - then the collision, then the shock. One of my many students her name was Laurel, often self-absorbed and pretty. I slammed on my brakes, stopped my car in the middle of Marshall Avenue. I thought, Was that the last time I will see that smile? I rushed across the street, looking neither left nor right, already grieving for her broken body. But she was already standing, dazed, whole, miraculously safe. She did not hear me speak as I steadied her trembling body. Her friend arrived, hugged her, and said exactly what had to be said. She was the better comforter. After the necessary statements, and the endless phone calls, the driver stood, conspicuous, confused, alone in the crowded office. A gray-faced man with thinning hair and sagging cheeks, his hands fell to his sides like pale rain. No one noticed him, his face an emblem of remorse. Suddenly, I realized I could have been that man. I was only the witness. Next time, I may be the comforter, he will be the witness, and she will be the driver.