Author's note: No lyrics in this chapter, that's just how it turned out.
Chapter 3 ~ Not A Dream Survived
Their world was shattered the night of Julian's second birthday. They went out to eat at a family restaurant not far from their home. They drove back in the dark along a nearly empty stretch of road, with Julian sleeping soundly in the back seat. Gil was driving while he and Christine talked in quiet voices so as not to wake their son.
Suddenly, a bright light swept across the dashboard and back again, nearly blinding Gil. Looking in his rearview mirror, he realized that the erratically moving lights behind them were the headlights of a car that was swerving back and forth across the road. Christine twisted in her seat to look out the back window.
"Oh my God… Gil, do you think he's drunk?"
The thought of being on the road with a drunk driver frightened both of them. Gil feared that Christine was right.
"There's a gas station just up the road," he said. "I'll pull off there and call the police." He wanted to stay calm for Christine, but inside he was terrified.
"Hurry, Gil," she begged. Julian was still asleep, oblivious to the chaos around him.
All of a sudden, the car behind them began to speed up. There was a sickening scraping sound and a jolt as the bumpers touched. Christine screamed, finally awakening Julian, who began to cry. In a split second, even before Gil could react, the car collided with theirs with a horrific crash. After that, Gil remembered nothing.
Gil opened his eyes to a sterile white hospital room and a stout, balding middle-aged doctor with spectacles.
"Hello, Gil. I'm Dr. Parsons. You sustained a severe concussion and some broken ribs in the accident. We'd like to keep you overnight for observation. We've given you a morphine drip to help with the pain." Gil didn't care about his own injuries. He asked, "Where's my wife, Christine?"
"Her injuries were more severe; broken ribs and a concussion, a broken leg and a broken arm. The leg will require surgery. You were both fortunate to survive."
"Broken ribs, a concussion and a broken arm is hardly good fortune," thought Gil. "If that drunk asshole hadn't been on the road in the first place this never would have happened."
"What about my son? Julian Grissom?"
The doctor frowned. "He was seen by another doctor. I'll see if I can find him for you."
"Thank you." The doctor left the room, and Gil was alone. The morphine seemed to be working; he wasn't in any pain. That freed up his mind to worry about his family. He hoped the driver had been caught. He hadn't thought to ask about him.
Dr. Parsons was in the hallway now, talking with another doctor, presumably the one who had treated Julian. The second doctor was taller, thinner, and appeared to be younger. He couldn't make out their words; he could only tell that they were deliberately talking softly to keep him from hearing. He felt like a little boy, not hearing what his parents were talking about, only knowing that it was about him.
The two doctors entered the room. Dr. Parsons stood in the background while the other man pulled up a stool next to Gil's bed.
"Mr. Grissom, I'm Dr. King. I saw your son when he came in. His injuries were very severe…"
"…No!" Gil's mind screamed. "God, no…"
"…I'm afraid there was nothing we could do to save him."
Gil drew in a breath, shut his eyes, and sincerely wished to die. It couldn't be true. This was someone else's baby, not his Julian.
He remained speechless for a time. Finally he murmured, "Does my wife know?"
"She's in surgery right now. Would you like me to tell her?" Gil nodded. Right now he just wanted to be alone.
"Why did this happen?" he thought. "It's not fair. It was his birthday, he was only two… it's not fair. It should have been me. Why couldn't I have died instead?" Those thoughts continued to plague him, until he finally fell into a fitful sleep.
He saw Christine the next morning. By then, she had been told the news. There was nothing to say, and nothing to do but hold her close while she sobbed.
From that day forward, their lives were never the same again.
Gil unfolded the yellowed newspaper clipping he'd taken from among the photographs. "Local Child Dies In Drunk Driving Accident."
"Julian Grissom, aged two, was the only fatality in a car accident that occurred on route 9 last night when his family's car was struck by a drunk driver…"
Even after all these years, it was still impossible to believe. Each time he read that article, he had to let it sink in all over again that this was his child, his family, this had happened to him. The clipping blurred as tears filled his eyes, streaming down his face.
Chapter 3 ~ Not A Dream Survived
Their world was shattered the night of Julian's second birthday. They went out to eat at a family restaurant not far from their home. They drove back in the dark along a nearly empty stretch of road, with Julian sleeping soundly in the back seat. Gil was driving while he and Christine talked in quiet voices so as not to wake their son.
Suddenly, a bright light swept across the dashboard and back again, nearly blinding Gil. Looking in his rearview mirror, he realized that the erratically moving lights behind them were the headlights of a car that was swerving back and forth across the road. Christine twisted in her seat to look out the back window.
"Oh my God… Gil, do you think he's drunk?"
The thought of being on the road with a drunk driver frightened both of them. Gil feared that Christine was right.
"There's a gas station just up the road," he said. "I'll pull off there and call the police." He wanted to stay calm for Christine, but inside he was terrified.
"Hurry, Gil," she begged. Julian was still asleep, oblivious to the chaos around him.
All of a sudden, the car behind them began to speed up. There was a sickening scraping sound and a jolt as the bumpers touched. Christine screamed, finally awakening Julian, who began to cry. In a split second, even before Gil could react, the car collided with theirs with a horrific crash. After that, Gil remembered nothing.
Gil opened his eyes to a sterile white hospital room and a stout, balding middle-aged doctor with spectacles.
"Hello, Gil. I'm Dr. Parsons. You sustained a severe concussion and some broken ribs in the accident. We'd like to keep you overnight for observation. We've given you a morphine drip to help with the pain." Gil didn't care about his own injuries. He asked, "Where's my wife, Christine?"
"Her injuries were more severe; broken ribs and a concussion, a broken leg and a broken arm. The leg will require surgery. You were both fortunate to survive."
"Broken ribs, a concussion and a broken arm is hardly good fortune," thought Gil. "If that drunk asshole hadn't been on the road in the first place this never would have happened."
"What about my son? Julian Grissom?"
The doctor frowned. "He was seen by another doctor. I'll see if I can find him for you."
"Thank you." The doctor left the room, and Gil was alone. The morphine seemed to be working; he wasn't in any pain. That freed up his mind to worry about his family. He hoped the driver had been caught. He hadn't thought to ask about him.
Dr. Parsons was in the hallway now, talking with another doctor, presumably the one who had treated Julian. The second doctor was taller, thinner, and appeared to be younger. He couldn't make out their words; he could only tell that they were deliberately talking softly to keep him from hearing. He felt like a little boy, not hearing what his parents were talking about, only knowing that it was about him.
The two doctors entered the room. Dr. Parsons stood in the background while the other man pulled up a stool next to Gil's bed.
"Mr. Grissom, I'm Dr. King. I saw your son when he came in. His injuries were very severe…"
"…No!" Gil's mind screamed. "God, no…"
"…I'm afraid there was nothing we could do to save him."
Gil drew in a breath, shut his eyes, and sincerely wished to die. It couldn't be true. This was someone else's baby, not his Julian.
He remained speechless for a time. Finally he murmured, "Does my wife know?"
"She's in surgery right now. Would you like me to tell her?" Gil nodded. Right now he just wanted to be alone.
"Why did this happen?" he thought. "It's not fair. It was his birthday, he was only two… it's not fair. It should have been me. Why couldn't I have died instead?" Those thoughts continued to plague him, until he finally fell into a fitful sleep.
He saw Christine the next morning. By then, she had been told the news. There was nothing to say, and nothing to do but hold her close while she sobbed.
From that day forward, their lives were never the same again.
Gil unfolded the yellowed newspaper clipping he'd taken from among the photographs. "Local Child Dies In Drunk Driving Accident."
"Julian Grissom, aged two, was the only fatality in a car accident that occurred on route 9 last night when his family's car was struck by a drunk driver…"
Even after all these years, it was still impossible to believe. Each time he read that article, he had to let it sink in all over again that this was his child, his family, this had happened to him. The clipping blurred as tears filled his eyes, streaming down his face.
