This is an excerpt from Crashing Into Us which you can buy just by clicking this link!
It was a sharp turn back to my past when I picked up the phone and heard Chris’s mom, Linda, on the other end of the receiver. We hadn’t spoken in years. There was no animosity between us, but Chris and I had split up ten years before, and although the kids still saw her on occasion, the two of us had stopped communicating.
“There has been an accident, Chris is in the hospital and is asking for you,” she said sounding upset.
“What kind of accident?” I asked.
“It’s serious, please come quickly, Allie, it’s very serious,” she repeated.
“Okay, of course, where are you? What hospital?” I asked.
“Cedar Sinai, the one by the Beverly Center.”
“Okay, but what happened?” I couldn’t help asking again.
“He’s been injured,” she said shakily, and hung up.
I wondered if I should call the kids, but I didn’t want to scare them, and not having any real information, I wasn’t sure how serious this was. Of course, I reasoned that on some level it had to be serious or elseLinda wouldn’t have called me. But then again, she had said Chris was asking for me, which meant he was conscious, so how serious could it be? I decided to wait.At twenty-four, Dylan would be at work. He was both interning at a local radio station and working as a pool man on the side. He was living with a couple of friends and constantly broke, but that seemed appropriate for a boy his age. We’d had our rough patches in the past and yet, knock wood, he seemed to finally be maturing, at least a little.London was two years younger and at UCLA studying film. I figured she’d be in class.
I walked out to my Audi A7 that, in a moment of recklessness, had cost me a fortune. I had been pissed off and jealous that Chris had been able to buy himself the R8, a car that costs what some people spend to own a house. The A7 was fifty thousand less than what he’d spent on his car, and yet still a good twenty thousand more than I had intended to spend. It is a beautiful car, though, charcoal grey, leather seats, Bose sound system, etc.
Traffic, as is so often the case in LA, was ridiculously backed up, and it took a long time to get from the Valley down to Beverly Hills. I walked into the emergency room and asked where and/or how I would find Chris Taylor.
“You are?” the nurse asked.
“His wife,” I said, not bothering to add the ex, although by the skepticism on her face, I suspected that she knew.
I sometimes forgot that strangers knew who Chris was. That happens when you direct Academy Award winning films. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done that until after we split. If he had done it sooner I’d have been able to afford the car I’m driving, but I digress. The nurse picked up the phone and told someone on the other end that there was a woman looking for Chris Taylor and claiming to be his wife. She listened for a minute and then asked for my ID. What the hell? I thought. I produced it, and she gave me directions to the ICU.
Suddenly my heart was pounding and I was scared. He’d asked for me, though, so he was okay. I mean he had to be, because he was the father of my children, and even though he and I knew all of the right buttons to push in order to hurt each other, we still loved one another in our own twisted ways. I walked out of the elevator and was met by his brother Tim, who looked anxious.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“He’s wrapped that fucking car around a tree.”
“Oh shit,” I said. “Is he okay? He will be, right?”
My stomach was plummeting to the floor with my heart rapidly following.
“Are the kids on their way?” Tim asked, ignoring my question.
“No, I thought, your mom said Chris was asking for me, she didn’t tell me, I mean, I thought…” I stammered.
“I’ll call them, you go in, but Allie, he’s no longer conscious,” he informed me.
For a brief second I couldn’t move wondering what that meant, but then no, just no! I couldn’t go there. This was Chris; he was just pushing my buttons again. I moved forward, sure that he’d open his eyes as soon as I entered the room.