People always apologize… But it's always too late.
Faith sat in front of the TV, lost in her thoughts. How had all this shit started? All this anger, this hatred between Bosco and her. Why all these insults against one another? Why so many lies? And one response came to her mind: CRUZ! Still and always Cruz! How had she become involved in all of this? All this shit made no sense. Why had Faith reacted like that tonight; that's right, she bears a grudge against Bosco, but this anger is directed towards Cruz, and exclusively her. She rejected Bosco because he was with that bitch; he had taken that bitch's side. And Faith detested him for that, for the fact that he was naïve, because he didn't see the games Cruz played.
And yet, tonight he came to her, apologizing for everything, and she ignored him; the first time she had done that. Bosco counted on her. But she was angry, simply angry; with him, with herself, with their broken down friendship, with everything. He came, and she closed the door. She was furious, but concerned too. She felt bad. She had the impression that she had lost her best friend forever. He had probably returned to Cruz's by now. 12:15 am. Faith couldn't believe that she dismissed Bosco into THE viper's arms.
She wanted to call him, tell him to come back, to stay. But she wanted to tell him everything that she felt, everything bubbling inside her, everything she thought about him, and about sergeant bitch. But she needed to calm down, going to bed was the best thing to do. But, even she knew that she couldn't sleep. Tomorrow would be another day.
******
The wind rustled leaves, while blood slowly soiled the ground, spreading out with every breath of wind. Firefighters extinguished the car Bosco was in. Ty, Alex, Jimmy and Carlos stayed back in order to be able to act as soon as Bosco got out. They knew the firefighters who were there, they were from the 33rd precinct. They played basketball with them a lot; they always lost. So these men knew Bosco. This rescue had become an effort to save one of their own.
Jimmy and Ty didn't know what to do, they were obliged to wait. Waiting for the hours to turn, the minutes to pass.
Firefighters were in the process of removing Bosco, he didn't react. They removed the seatbelt and held him so that he did not fall. They lifted him lightly and place him on the cold pavement.
Teenagers of the other two cars had been already removed, two were dead, and the other three were stable. All Carlos and Alex saw was Bosco, delicately lying on the ground. They hurried to their friend. The paramedics on the scene moved aside to let them to work on him.
Ty spoke to him but he didn't respond. Carlos held him, but he didn't move, Jimmy looked at him but he didn't react. Alex took his pulse, but he didn't have one. Seven minutes, only seven minutes between the accident and now, too many minutes, seven minutes which changed the course of a life, for no reason.
Alex and Carlos, becoming panicked, started CPR while the two other paramedics bandaged the wounds of the man who was lying on the floor. This officer, who, because of a woman, had been destroyed. A woman who showed him that nobody is infallible; this woman who he loved, and who had caused him nothing but trouble. This sergeant, that nobody will understand, this Mexican who everyone hates. This person who had destroyed the relationship between him and his best friend, this mistake he should have never made.
A wordless story, a deaf conversation. Ty, Carlos, Alex, Jimmy, they spoke to Bosco but he didn't hear, or maybe he did. Who knows how death reacts and propagates. 1, 2, 3… Breath. Compress, oxygen, compress, but he remained exactly the same. Stopping to change bandages and IV, all so ordinary for paramedics and so important for one life, this life, the life of their friend. Still the same. Nothing. No reaction.
Alex pressed frenetically; Carlos hooked him up to oxygen. Ty spoke to him, Jimmy watched, like all the other firefighters; all that they could do to save this police officer's life.
Could one tell, in these conditions, that tomorrow has a story? Because who writes the story? This stupid accident, this so beautiful night, no one can understand these things.
Alex stopped what she was doing, Bosco's chest was rising on it's own now, he was alive, but for how long? Collar, injection (again!), dressing, everything was routine, but something was wrong this time. This time it was a friend.
Carlos and Alex climb into the bus, while Ty and Jimmy climb into Jimmy's car. Red light, green light, right, left, left, right. The colours of the street side shops pass in a blur, reflected against the windows of the bus. The trip seems to take an eternity. Red light, stop, turn left again. The way so well known by firefighters and cops, but always so strange. Will the street never end?
Mercy! At last! Jimmy and Ty jump out of the car and rush to Carlos and Alex, who are in front of trauma room. Just a simple glance and they understand everything, all of the sorrow, the pain, the desperation, and the horror they were a part of, and that continues beneath their eyes. This friend, who they've lost, still not understanding how. 12:20 am. Only three minutes to arriving here, only, lost.
Alex: We should call Faith.
Four words. Four little words that caused a horrible silence. Just words, only words, frozen now. How to tell someone that their best friend, or their former best-friend, well how to tell a person that someone close to her was fighting against death; for his life. Death, so unpredictable, one that nobody sees and yet she is there all the time. Death that stops time, that takes seconds, minutes. Death that prevents us from telling someone what we would; our feelings, for him. Death that takes time, that takes life.
TBC…