It was cold, rainy, and the roads were slick. Usually she would never drive in conditions like this, but she promised that she would be there for Thanksgiving dinner. This was the first year she could drive on her own, and the first year she was going without her parents, who liked to fight all the time and drive slow. Not that she wasn't driving slowly now, but earlier she had been perfectly on schedule.
On the seat beside her was a brown corduroy bag purse, which was emitting a low-key ringing sound. Against her better judgement, she reached into her bag to pull out the Treo inside, accidentally yanking the steering wheel over as well.
"Oh shit!" she screamed, watching helplessly out the windshield as the SUV went barrelling off the bridge. She could feel the freezing cold water of the river filling up the car, pulling it down to the depth. She yelled, but no one could hear her. She tried to push the doors open, but the water pressure was much too strong. She felt numb, and breathing was hard. Stars burst in her eyes; she couldn't see. She couldn't feel. She stopped breathing.
*
Her entire body felt hot. No hurt or sharp pains, just hot. There was something stabbing into her hand; a plastic tube in and under her nose. She blinked her eyes open, and they seared. Her throat was dry. She could see a nurse standing by in a white uniform, and tried to call her attention. All she could get out was a bit of a squeaky grunt. It worked, anyway; the nurse turned, her eyes wide – obviously she was surprised. But when she realized what made the noise, the pretty, grey-haired woman just smiled.
"You're finally awake, dear," the nurse said soothingly, grabbing a cup from the table beside the hospital bed, and brought it slowly to the lips of the cut-and-bruised copper top girl in the hospital bed. "What's your name?"
"Spencer Fields," was the girl's reply. She studied the nurse carefully; whose nametag said Nurse Allen. The woman was at least fifty, with tight grey curls and small, blue eyes with deep laugh lines. She was wearing a very old fashioned Nurse's dress, and red-and-white hat.
"You've been out for a very long time, Miss Fields," Nurse Allen said, handing Spencer the cup of water. Spencer grabbed it with her IV-free hand, and took another deep swig of it. "You're very lucky someone drove by and noticed you washed up on the shore."
"On the shore?" Spencer asked, her voice still a bit scratchy. "That's not right. I drove my car off the bridge by accident, trying to answer my cell. I was stuck in the car."
"Your cell?" the nurse asked, putting the back of her hand on Spencer's forehead to check her temperature. "You're delirious dear, I think. Perhaps some more rest."
Nurse Allen filled a pitcher of cold water and put it on the bedside table, along with a proper sized cup, before quietly leaving towards the door.
"Wait!" Spencer called, and the nurse turned in the doorway. "What's the date?"
"The twelfth of November, dear," Nurse Allen replied. "Nineteen sixty three."