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Chapter 12
Ask Me Why I Hate Drunk Drivers

Two weeks after my conversation with mom, I came home again to visit. Though we didn't broach the subject of my sexuality, there was an energy in the air, everything seemed different, like something important was about to happen.

When church ended that Saturday night, a group of us decided to drive into New Iberia to eat chicken at "Churches Fried Chicken." Ironic, since our friend and priest, Fr. Groschen was joining us.

I had picked up some very good safety habits from riding around with Susan and Sarah. I now always wore my seat belt and shoulder harness when I was in a car. I drove the family car that night. Sitting to my right was Fr. Groschen, and Jay sat against the front passenger door. In the back, Mom sat behind me, and Sandra, Jay's wife, who was 9 months pregnant with their first child -- due any day, sat behind him. It was about 30 minutes before dusk as we drove the 10 miles from Loreauville to New Iberia.

A few miles outside Loreauville, just over the tracks is an area called Rochonville; a name given to the area around the tracks because of the family name of the African American family first lived there. We were on a two lane country road. Up ahead, just before an intersection I saw a car edge off the shoulder, and then correct itself back into its lane. I slowed down because we were going to pass this erratic car in a moment. The car left the road again and I slowed down even more. This time when he pulled back into his lane he made a classic driving mistake. He over corrected, and the sudden force of his wheels snapping up from the shoulder to the pavement propelled him across our lane of traffic. This happened very quickly and right in front of us in the intersection, leaving me no time to get out of his way. Even though I slammed on my brakes, our combined forward momentum caused us to crash into him, his car broadside to our front end. The force of the impact left our car almost sideways in our lane, and his car off the road and in the ditch.

Jay, Fr. Groschen, and I immediately got out of the car to check with mom and Sandra. Those of us in the front seat were not injured enough to immobilize us. The same could not be said of our precious rear passengers. The force of the impact had caused mom's legs to slide forward under the driver's seat, breaking both of her legs above the ankle. She was unable to move without severe pain and the injury alone was already causing insurmountable agony. Sandra was also in great pain as the water cushioning her and Jay's first child broke, causing her to go into labor. Fr. Groschen realized when he tried to speak, that he had broken his jaw on the dashboard, he could speak, but it was with great difficulty and discomfort. He ran over to the nearest house to call for an ambulance. Jay's forehead had a stream of blood trickling down but only seamed to be a minor injury. I thought momentarily that I was uninjured, probably because I was the only one wearing a seatbelt and shoulder harness.

About a minute had passed now, and Jay and I are standing just outside the rear doors of our car, comforting our family members. I saw Fr. Groschen returning from the nearby house and I stepped back away from the car to meet him.

A pickup truck just coming over the railroad tracks was picking up the speed he had lost slowing down for the tracks. With dusk quickly settling in he hadn't seen our disabled car sitting across his lane of traffic. Without ever applying his brakes, he struck the side of our car sending it spinning and gouging the asphalt, sparks lighting up the dusk, to come to a stop on the right side of the crossroad; all this while Jay, Fr. Groschen, and I watched in horror. There were mere inches of clearance between us and the truck that had just taken the lives of two persons whom we loved and a third that we were hoping to give our love to when he was born.

You have no idea what its like to run over to the car you just saw spin away, to find neither of them in the car. We realized they had been thrown from it during the impact. In the gathering gloom we searched around for them. I could hear the anguish in his voice as Jay yelled that he had found Sandra. I found mom about 30 feet further down in the same ditch. Jay came over to me anguish and tears evident on his face and told me that Sandra was dead. I told him that we could not judge that yet, and reminded him:

" We're trained firemen Jay; we do CPR until the ambulance arrives!"
With heart stopping grief I heard him say, "But Craig, there's brains coming out of her ears."

To make it through this crisis, I knew I'd have to turn off emotion. I tilted mom's chin up to open her airway and thought I heard a moan escape from her. Heartened by this, I opened her mouth and did a finger sweep to clear her airway and start CPR. As I did this, I realized her face and jaw were crushed and broken, causing the jaw to move strangely in my hand. Jay and I continued CPR until the ambulance arrived, then continued it during the drive back to the hospital in Loreauville. They had called Dr. Romero and he was waiting there when we arrived.

We sat in shocked silence outside the emergency room waiting for news. Dr. Romero came out a few minutes later to tell us, Mom, Sandra, and the baby were dead. In compassionate Catholic fashion, Dr. Romero let us know that he had baptized the baby in-utero in hopes that the he would be accepted into heaven. My life irrevocably changed then. What little remaining faith I had was gone. This god who supposedly condemns homosexuals also wouldn't allow an unbaptised child into heaven.

Jay was having the cut on his head stitched, and I was now complaining of a sore neck. I remember they took a neck X-Ray to see if anything was broken. I remember removing from my neck the silver chain that matched the one around Jeremy's neck that we had exchanged as tokens of our promise to be together soon.

When I came out of the X-Ray room, the state police had arrived to investigate the accident. Blood had been drawn from me and the other 2 drivers, but by this time, nearly 2 hours had passed since the accident. The two drivers that hit us were just below the legal limit to be charged with drunk driving. Two hours ago, they had been shit-faced drunk when they had forever changed the lives of not only us, but our whole town. (Neither of them were charged with drunk driving, and neither of them had any car insurance.)

Dad wasn't with us that evening. He had decided to go over to Mr. Belaire's home to cook and drink beer with them in the "camp" behind their house. I called them up and spoke with Mrs. Belaire:

" Mrs. Belaire, I need to speak with my dad."
" Meh Craig, he's over in the camp, what you want? I'll tell him when I go back over there later."
" It's important, Mrs. Belaire. I need to speak to him personally. Please go get him."
" Craig, I don't want to go over there now, why can't you tell me?"
With a heavy sigh I said, "Mrs. Belaire, I'm at the hospital, we've been in a car accident and Mom and Sandra and the baby are dead, PLEASE go get dad for me."
There was a beat of silence, then nervous laughter, "That's cute Craig, what do you really want?"
I let another couple beats of silence pass, "I'm absolutely serious Mrs. Belaire."
" Oh my god! I'll go get LJ."

Dad showed up at the hospital and I was now relieved of any responsibility to deal with the doctors or police. My comfort could not be provided for by anyone here; I needed to talk to Jeremy. I tried to call him at home, but got no answer. I kept calling every 30 minutes all through the night. I think it was almost 4am when I finally reached him, having just gotten back from an evening out in DC at the Lost and Found Disco. He answered the phone and I remember my exact words:

"Do you remember me telling you that I wasn't yet able to tell mom that I was gay? Well I don't have to tell her anymore. She died in a car accident tonight."

With that cathartic revelation to Jeremy out of the way, we renewed words of love and comfort, and I fell into my bed and slept the sleep of the dead.

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