Choices

Choices
by Doris Ruth Mackey

         Albert stood looking out the window as the rain pounded on the glass. The motel's neon light flickered on and off. His car was the only one in the parking lot. He could not see the broken headlight and dented fender from the window, and hoped no one else would notice either. Except for the sound of the rain, everything was awfully quiet. He looked around the room, which was dimly lit by one small lamp on the night stand by the bed. There was one beat up dresser, a hard straight backed chair and a television which could only get three channels. He had brought nothing with him, only the clothes he was wearing. He laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling, feeling alone and lost. Oh, how he wished he could go back and change things.

         It all started after the party. He remembered telling his friend, Dave, "Don't worry. It's late. There won't be much traffic." Then he snatched his keys away from Dave and got in his car to go home. He had a few drinks that night, though he couldn't remember how many, but he was sure he could drive home.

         At first it seemed he was right, but before he had gone far, it started to rain very hard. Every time a car passed going the other way, between the splash and the headlight glare, Albert had trouble seeing the road. Then came the semi, and the water splashed over the windshield like a tidal wave. He couldn't see anything. He swerved a little to the right, and it happened.

A dull thud made the car shudder. Albert pulled off the road and got out of the car thinking, "Oh no, I've hit something." He looked back and saw a dark shape lying on the edge of the road. He moved closer for a better look. It was a man. He turned away quickly, cupping his hand over his mouth, he felt as though he was going to be sick.

         At first Albert just stood there unable to move, staring down at the man, then holding his breath, he bent down to check for a pulse. "Oh thank you, God," he whispered as he fumbled in his coat pocket looking for his cell phone. He called 911, "I've had an accident. I've hit someone. He's unconscious, but he is breathing. Please send help."

         The voice on the other end asked, "Where are you, sir?"

Albert looked around to be sure, "We're at the New Milford exit of route 24. I was going south."

         "Sir, the police and EMS are on their way. They will be there soon. Now sir, I need your name." Albert pushed the button ending the call.

         He got a blanket from the trunk of his car and covered the man. The rain had changed to a fine mist. Albert intended to wait for the police but was suddenly overcome with a terrible sense of panic. He got into his car and drove away. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the parking lot of this rundown motel. He wasn't even sure where he was, only that he was tired and needed to think. He went into the motel office and took a room.

         So now, here he was, trying to understand what had happened, and why he ran. As he thought about it now, he knew it was a stupid thing to do. It made no sense. He had to decide what to do next, but he was just so tired.

         When he woke in the morning, he turned on the television. The local news show was on. Albert stared at the screen and listened as the reporter read the local news. "Last night 911 received an anonymous call reporting an accident near the New Milford town line on route 24. When the police and EMS arrived a the site, they found a homeless man, known to the local shelters as Backpack Pete, lying on the side of the road covered with a blanket. The police believe the caller was the driver who hit him. The victim was in fair condition in St. Luke's Hospital but was unable to give the police any useful information. There were no witnesses,but fragments were found at the scene, so the police knew to look for a green car with a broken right headlight and damaged fender."

         Albert sighed as he turned off the set. He was relieved to learn that the man had not died. He sat on the side of the bed and wondered what he should do next. So far the choices he made got him into trouble. If only he had listened to Dave and not tried to drive home. If only he had waited at the scene for the police. Since he couldn't undo or change anything, there was really only one thing to be done. He picked up his coat and ran out to his car, and drove off down the road.

         He pulled into the parking space and got out of his car. He stood for a while looking at the sign on the window which read, New Milford Police, then taking a deep breath, he went through the door and walked up to the desk.