Prompt: Consequences, or Life changes in an instant

I’ve had the same dream every night for the past 2,692 nights. Leaving the bar, high fives and fist bumps and chest hugs, grabbing the keys back from Alex. Swerving from the construction cones that veered in from the left. I never saw the car. Just felt the impact, heard the scream of metal, smelled the burning tires. Spinning, spinning, until my eyes focus on her face. Her forehead against the glass. Her eyes closed. No blood. She could be resting. Waiting. Sleeping.

But she’s not the one I think of when I’m awake. Sometime between the dream and waking, the baby cries. By the time they pulled me out of my car, there were sirens and staticky speakers. I had stared at the woman’s face until they peeled open my door, crumpled and frozen in place during my car’s determined effort to occupy the same space as hers. I didn’t hear the baby that night. I didn’t know about her until the first day in court.

When I’m asleep, I dream about her momma. When I’m awake, I think about her. All the things she won’t have that I did. After that night. My family abandoned me. I made her momma abandon her.

It’s not hard to stay sober in prison. I’m in AA just the same. I’m still trying to wrap my head around restitution. What can I ever do to make it right for that baby?

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Note:

I guess that’s all I’ve got tonight. A coworker had a shocking day – a childhood friend’s mother was killed by a drunk driver on her way home from work yesterday. And in the middle of thinking how awful for that family and friends, I can’t help thinking what it must be like for the person who has to live with that for the rest of their life.

Dogs in House	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	15 minutes
April word count	12,775