Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [57]
At one point, Maria came and asked me to help her get her Cinderella Barbie’s little white gloves on. She stood for as long as that busy little body could wait while I worked and wiggled to try to get those tiny white gloves onto Barbie. Then she tore off to do something else.
I never knew until later that she had changed into a maroon and pink ballet tutu . . . this was her dress for the Jonas Brothers after-show party.
Finally I managed to pull the tiny gloves onto the doll. “Maria,” I called, “I got Cinderella Barbie’s gloves on her!”
No answer. She and her sisters were outside in the sunshine, playing on their playground in the backyard, which was a good thirty yards into the grass away from the driveway. Maria wanted to hang from the monkey bars, but she couldn’t get up to the bar by herself. Shaoey tried to lift her up, but she wasn’t quite strong enough.
Steven and I were still at the dining room table, talking about wedding plans. His cell phone rang; it was Jim Houser, his manager. Steven left the table and went outside to our wraparound front porch where he’d get better reception.
While he was talking to Jim on the phone, he saw Will turning into our driveway. He didn’t think much of it, though later he would remember that he noticed Will was driving slowly and wasn’t talking on his cell phone.
“Yes!” Shaoey said to Maria as she heard Will’s old Land Cruiser on the gravel part of the driveway near our front gate. “Here comes Will! He’ll help you get up on the monkey bars!”
Will rounded the corner, heading toward the garage.
“Will!” Maria yelled, running toward the car.
“Maria!” Shaoey screamed. “Stop!”
Maria was a hard-headed little girl. If she got something on her mind, she was going to do it. And by golly, she was going to get her brother Will to help her get up on those monkey bars!
“Will!” Maria called again, waving her arms and running, though she was so little that Will couldn’t see her.
In the dining room, I was writing a list, thinking about all the wedding details. Suddenly I heard confusing noises. Not the normal commotion of the girls at play. Screaming. But not the kind of screaming where you wait to hear if it’s a false alarm. This was different.
I jumped up and tore through the kitchen, heading toward the hall to the back door, just as Shaoey ran in from the back driveway.
“Mom!” she screamed. “Will hit Maria with the car!”
I ran down the few steps to the garage and rounded the corner toward the driveway. Will was holding Maria, crying and pleading for her to wake up. Both of them were covered in blood.
“Mom!” Will screamed. “I hit her with the car!”
“Call 911!” I yelled. “Get your dad!”
I took Maria from Will. She was limp, like she was asleep. I ran across the driveway and laid her down in the grass. There was a puddle of blood about four feet in diameter on the driveway. Blood was streaming from her ears, her nose, her mouth. I tried to clear as much of it from her mouth as possible and started rescue breathing. I was afraid to compress her chest; because of the blood, I didn’t know what bones might be broken. I just tried to breathe for her. But she wasn’t responding.
Will was in shock. He couldn’t dial 911. Later we would find his cell phone broken into a million pieces where he’d thrown it.
I stopped rescue breathing for a second. I was screaming and pounding my fist into the ground, yelling for help, yelling for God to save her, yelling for time to rewind.
Steven came around the back corner of the house, still talking on his cell phone to Jim Houser. He saw me covered in blood. Jim heard him say, “Oh my God!” and then heard the cell phone being dropped in the grass and the sound of screaming.
Steven ran to me and Maria.
“Will hit her with the car!” I cried. Steven picked Maria up and carried her to a rug on the floor right outside our back door in the garage. He took over the rescue breathing while I ran into the kitchen and called 911 on the home phone.
“911,” a woman’s voice said.