Last Thought

• Eli Mclean, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

It was a fast hit, and unforgiving. Perhaps there are people around me, gathering, cries shrill and panicked. I don’t know for sure. There is an unpleasant taste in my mouth, sharp and acerbic. It does not correlate well with my tongue. There is a van, crimson flecks on the right headlight. Blood? My blood? Oh, god. It must be. There’s more blood under me. Warm. I don’t know how it got there. Am I crying? I looked well enough stepping out the door this morning. God, how superficial, how conceited! Yes, I’ve been struck by a five tonne vehicle, yes I’m bleeding, but oh, no, my makeup is running! I could be dying, for all I know. I start to look back on the things I’ve done, and the things I’ve missed. Oh, god no, do not venture into that realm just yet. You are still very much alive. But do only the dying hark upon remarks and regrets, regrettable and remarkable? I may as well let myself cling to what I have for now.

I don’t know whether or not to be grateful for the lingering realisation that I have never had children, never had a miscarriage. There are certainly things I’ve missed out on by foregoing such an opportunity, but there are certainly things I know I should have missed. A ‘Master Plan’, if you will. There’s one for everyone, is there not? Yes, I do have a husband. I thought that was essential. Many a time did I sit out to lunch with my friends, married friends, complaining about how their husband did this, or burnt that, or bought this, and after many a lunch, I began feeling an overwhelming sense of exclusion. Maybe complaining was the one thing I needed to strengthen that bond between friends. “Yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about!” “Yes, my husband bought a Segway on eBay as well, let’s talk about that!” It felt good for that to begin, finally.
I know my husband is worrying about me. I’m sure he goes to work, at his huge law firm, each and every day worrying about me. The wife. His wife. I’m sure he hasn’t found out yet. Oh, an ambulance is coming? Excellent. There is only so much I can make out on the ground here. My mother would worry. My father had passed; my mother has always worried from then, about everything. She has lived interstate, far from the city. She would run for my aid if needed. Literally run. I love her for that. I have always loved her for that. I love a lot of people, for a lot of things.

An ambulance. Great. The van driver is crying more than I am. Paramedics. Excellent. They will treat me nicely, carefully. My husband is outside, through the ambulance window. I can’t touch him. I hope these aren’t my last thoughts, but if so, he will know they are of children, of him, and of no other.