I Lost An Angel

Trigger warning:

Car accident, loss, family trauma.

There was a cup of coffee sitting on the counter. I had made it while the sky inched from black to blue. The coffee machine gurgled, followed by the trickle of liquid dripping into the mug. Hershey’s chocolate creamer, a little bit of milk, a lot of sugar. The perfect cup.

The plan was to hang out with my mother that day, so I checked her location and was surprised to see her downtown. Zooming in on the map revealed my mother at the county jail. With her license suspended, it was highly likely she’d gotten pulled over. The sheriff had already given her a warning last time. She freaked out because Chewy was gonna take a trip to the pound if she got arrested, so he let her go. Not this time.

I was so annoyed. The phone rang, shattering the peaceful quiet of the morning, and my sister’s voice was shaky when I answered.

“There was an accident. We can’t find Mom.”

My world froze, breath stuck in my lungs. She better not have been drinking. My sister's cries flooded my ear, but I stayed calm.

“Breathe, just breathe and tell me what happened.”

“Mom was drinking last night at Angel’s, they were walking across the street, and got hit by a car.” More crying. “We can’t find mom, oh my god. Ken said he heard the crash, and then Mom was screaming. No one can find her.”

“Okay, she was screaming. That means she was breathing. She’s okay. I thought she was in jail, but she could be at the police station. She’s probably talking to them about what happened.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause, and I thought she was finally pulling herself together, but then—

“Angel didn’t make it”

It felt like I had been struck in the chest. Relieved and hurting at the same time, not my mom… but Angel. Angel from across the street. She was always coming over to my grandma’s house when I visited for the summer. Angel, who talked too much, who shopped too much, and was a complete hoarder. I’d helped clean her house so many times, only for her to collect more crap and shove it into every open space she could find.

“I tell people you're my daughter.”

Not my mom, but Angel.

I couldn’t cry; my sister was doing that enough for the both of us. There was only one thing I could focus on.

Where is my mom?

“Call the police station and see what you can find out. I’m gonna go to moms and check on Chewy. Call me back when you’re done,” I hung up, and my roommate offered to drive me. The front door slammed as we rushed to the car. My coffee sat untouched on the counter.

At Mom’s house, Chewy was fine. He barked at us when we walked in, and his tail was wagging so fast he couldn’t sit still. Oblivious to the chaos. At the kitchen table, I opened my mother’s laptop. There were missed calls on Facebook from everyone: my brother, my aunt, and my mother's boyfriend. I was about to message them when my sister called me back.

“The lady at the station was no help.” She was annoyed, but I could hear the tears in her voice. “They said mom isn't there, but they can’t tell me what hospital they took her to.”

“Okay, so we just have to call them all.”

I googled all the nearest hospitals. Every call was the same.

“Hi, my mom was in an accident. I’m trying to find her.”

“What’s her name and date of birth?” I gave them the information.

“Sorry, there’s no one here under that name.”

I asked about any Jane Doe brought in that night and explained to them what happened. “She was probably hysterical, screaming and crying uncontrollably.”

“Sorry, without a name, I can’t give you any information.”

It was the most frustrating thing, and I could feel the tears threatening to fall; my throat felt tight. It hurt. I was down to the last two places she could be, and I pleaded with the nurse to tell me what I could do—how I could find her.

My sister called again. “We found her. She’s on the military base. It was the only hospital that had a trauma center. They took Angel there, and she was with them.”

The pressure that had been building in my chest eased, and a few tears fell before I wiped them. “I’m on the way.”

“Ok, Jacob and Cardell are already on the way too; they’ll be in town in about forty-five minutes.”

My mom was sitting up in the hospital bed when we finally got to see her. She was beaten up a little, scrapes and bruises littering her arms and face, but she was smiling. We had agreed to wait on telling her the news about Angel; we wanted to get her home first, where she could break down in private.

“I don’t know what happened. We were drinking and laughing, and then I woke up here. I don’t remember what happened.” But I heard it in her voice; she knew.

“Just worry about feeling better, momma.” My brother, always the protector. He kissed her forehead, and we waited for the doctors to discharge her.

When we pulled up to the house, my mom had her eyes closed. She didn't want to look at the street, at the blotch of red that still stained the asphalt. We all settled in the living room. My mom avoided looking at any of us. She could see it on our faces—the sympathy, the sadness.

“Momma, we gotta tell you something.” My brother started, but she cut him off.

“I don’t wanna know.” Her voice shook.

“You already know.” She looked at me then, the truth unspoken between us. I was holding it together as best as I could. A buoy floating in a sea of misery while she drowned in it.

Tears fell as she shook her head. “No. No. No. No. NO!” Her hands covered her face, and she wailed. “It should’ve been me!”

I thank God it wasn’t.

Hours later, I was home, my body tired and overwhelmed with emotion. I walked into the house and went straight to my room. I paused at the door and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. I entered, and the second I saw my boyfriend’s face, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I told him what happened.

Downstairs, my coffee sat on the kitchen counter. Cold.