It’s Wednesday. Wednesday means leaving school an hour early. That’s enough time to take the bus to Pinole so that I can stay at the library for a few hours. I exit the bus and start walking towards the library. I cross the street I’ve crossed many times before. It’s a small street, just barely wide enough for two cars to pass. There’s the stop sign I’ve seen so many times before. I make sure there are no cars as I step onto the road. As I’m walking, a car shows up out of nowhere speeding down the narrow street. I stop in my tracks and my mind goes completely blank as I stare at the car hoping for it to stop. It screeches to a halt just a few feet away. The driver is a young man in his early twenties red in the face with rage. In the passenger seat is a young woman of similar age. Her face is wet with tears and her body is visibly shaking from fear. The windows are rolled up, muffling the sounds coming from inside the car, but the man is yelling loudly enough for me to hear. Spit flies from his lips and the entire car shakes as he slams his fists onto the dashboard. He blames her for not paying attention to the road and that it would be her fault if he had run me over. She only cries louder and shakes harder. She glances at me for only a moment but it feels like an eternity. Her lonely, fearful eyes cry out to me. ‘Help me. Save me.’ But what can I do? I’m only 16. I continue walking, pretending I saw nothing. Surely, an older me, maybe a high school graduate version of me, would be wise enough to rescue her.
I’m 19. A college
student. Those eyes, those fear-shrouded
eyes, still call to me at night. ‘Help
me.’ But what can I do? I must be too young. I have yet to learn anything about this dangerous
world we live in. Surely, an older,
college graduate version of me would be wise enough to rescue her.
I’m 24. I work at a
full-time job. I’m an adult now, isn’t
this what adults do? Still, those eyes continue
to haunt me at night. I’ve made a pledge
to myself to help anyone that needed me.
I’ve saved a dog’s life. I’ve
helped a woman with a broken-down car. I’ve
comforted a woman whose car was just stolen.
I’ve bought food for a hungry, homeless family of five. I’ve driven my neighbor to the emergency
room. I’ve helped so many people that I’ve
lost count, and yet… And yet, those eyes
continue to haunt me. What would I
do? In my dreams I’m crossing the
street. I see the stop sign. I see the car speeding towards me only to
screech to a halt. I hear the man
yell. I see the woman’s eyes. What do I do?
What can I do? Maybe I’m still not
old enough. A real adult would know what
to do. Someone older, someone wiser,
someone with more life experience.
I’m 29. I’m married,
financially stable, and planning to have children. Isn’t this what adults do? Surely I’m old enough now. Surely I’m wise enough to rescue the woman
with those eyes. Those eyes that still
haunt me in my sleep. Those eyes still filled
with fear. Those eyes pleading to me, ‘Save
me. Help me.’ I know now that wisdom doesn’t come with
age. That courage doesn’t appear with
more passings of the day. I walk across
the street. I see the stop sign. I see the car speeding and suddenly stopping. The car is a few feet away but it feels like
miles. Those eyes look at me only for a
moment, but that moment turns into a lifetime. What do I do? Can I turn my feet towards the car? Will my legs push me forwards? Will my arms reach out to save her? What will I do? I want to believe that I can help her. I want to believe that I will be brave enough
to save her.
Her eyes have locked with mine a thousand times. My arms have reached out to help her a
thousand more. Yet if I am walking
across a street tomorrow and I see those eyes… I am afraid.
Not afraid of the eyes. Not
afraid of the man. I’m afraid of
myself. I can see my past-self turning
my head and continue to walk forward as if nothing had happened. That version of myself is what scares me the
most. It’s the person who ignores the
eyes that brings fear into my heart. I am
reluctant to look into the mirror, afraid of the reflection I will see. Who am I?
Am I the one that saves the woman? Or am I the one that turns away? Will I ever know? I’m afraid to find out.
I lie down. I turn
off the lights. I see those eyes. I see the stop sign, the road, the car, the
man, and then I see those eyes. My arms
reach out to save her once more. What can
I do? What will I do? Who am I?
