High 3 (Finale)
Finale of the High Story
HIGH
Mayowa Ojo
6/10/20264 min read
How did I get in one? I was driving down the expressway, loving the music playing on the stereo and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. I was about fifteen minutes from home on a wet Tuesday evening. From nowhere the tyre of a vehicle right next to me flew off the back wheel and hit my car. I instinctively swerved left and hit the concrete divider on the express way, bouncing back onto the express. A truck, seeing everything happen so fast and trying to avoid collision, swerved hard to the right a few seconds early and just as my car bounced back onto the express, the trailer of the truck smacked my car like a tennis racket to a ball.
In that moment I remembered my late mother. I remembered the day she died so vividly. I heard the fall and accompanying scream as I passed by her room. I wanted to ignore it but I waited. I heard her call out to her husband and then my sister and only when neither showed up did she call my name. I opened the door and saw her half-naked. She had just come in from the bathroom and was on her way to the dresser when she fell. I immediately recognized she was having a cardiac arrest especially by the way she clutched onto her chest for dear life.
I listened as she ordered me to call my father or the hospital but I was not moved. Once she realized her mistake, she started to plead. It was a pitiful sight and although I was not thrilled to hear her beg, I certainly was not moved to the point of empathy. When it dawned on her that I was not moving from the edge of her bed where I sat cross-legged, watching her gasp for air like a fish out of water, her true self came through.
She just about used all of her last strength to curse me in more than one language. She struggled to get up but was torn between using her hands for support and holding on to her chest for dear life. I sat there and watched her draw her last breath – our eyes locked onto each other as I saw the light fade from hers. Even in those last moments there was such bitterness in them and I felt justified.
Certain she was gone, I reached for her phone and called her husband. He picked on the second ring and I heard him call her name at first; then repeatedly when he heard nothing back. He ended the call and called back but I let it ring out. I put the phone next to her hand and left the room.
I went into my sister’s room and sat beside her and we watched cartoons for the next hour until father stormed into the room, looking like he’d gone to the gates of hell to look for his wife but was turned back just because it was not his time.
For a few seconds I did not understand why I remembered that day until I remembered the rush I felt in me after mother passed. It’s because I realized I was not the curse – my baby sister was evidence. Mother, on the other hand was the curse that made me into this recluse and socially awkward man. My life was better off being rid of her.
The somersaults began and I tumbled down the express way in the cage that was my car. It was so fast yet so slow. I watched everything happen around me and very quickly remembered that scene from when I was thirteen. Adrenaline was rushing through me all over again. I did not want the tumbling to end. I caught a glimpse of what I believed was the direction of where my car and I were headed and saw that the coast was clear. I knew I would not die. I felt alive just as much as I did when I watched that first accident. This is it! This is IT!!! I chanted in my head like a mantra. In my years of chasing the next high, nothing I tried was comparable to this! It’s unfortunate how people don’t share my enthusiasm about it. I would pay to have the scene play out again. What I would not pay for is the pain and my inability to ambulate freely thereafter.
It’s been six months of limited movement and it sucks. My final physiotherapy appointment is in a month. Emerald has moved on and it hurts greatly. Not so much her but the rarity of her kind. Her reason? She was unable to do long distance anymore, more so because I’m incapacitated. She even told me she met someone and I was forced to remember my dog’s disloyalty and the punishment I meted out. I pushed the thought aside.
I’ve been forced to move in with my father though we live like strangers. His new wife likes me else she would have poisoned me, I think. I work mostly from home and so I’m thankful because I know it could be worse. However, every time I dream or think about the accident I get excited. I hear a voice telling me it will happen again and I don’t try to shut it out. Although I won’t go looking, I’m not afraid.
I’ve just received a text message on my phone. It’s a debit alert for the transfer I made to a dealer earlier today. My power bike should arrive in two weeks. I’m certainly not deliberately looking for and not afraid... just on to the next high once my physiotherapy is complete.