The soft gray interior of the car was safe and familiar. The air conditioner was blowing gently, “Alouette, Gentille Alouette,” was playing softly from the speakers the cd spinning round and round hidden behind the plastic tray. Next came “À Cheval Sur Mon Bidet,” and had the drive not been so long already Claudette would have begged maman and papa to play it over and over, but as it was her eyes were tired and heavy. Shifting in her car seat she pulled her teddy closer to her chest, her shoeless feet dangling over the crumb covered, juice stained floor.

Claudette was slightly uncomfortable in her yellow, floral print dress which was kept neat and clean for church on Sundays. Church had indeed been the origin of their journey on this sunny afternoon. “Comment est ma petite fille jolie faire?” (How is my pretty baby girl?) maman asked softly, turning back in her seat. A wavy lock of sun kissed gold tumbling in front of a gentle lavender eye maman smiled to her daughter. Claudette turned her tired eyes forward, taking in the back of the seats, dashboard maman, papa and the teal car gliding in front of them. She loved maman, her creamy skin, pink lips and beautifully soothing voice. Claudette smiled dreamily as with one of her silky fingers maman stroked her cheek.

“Laissez-la dormer mon amour, elle va vouloir jouer quand nous arrivons.” (Let her sleep my love, she’ll want to play when we get there.) papa said, he reached a hand back and squeezed one of the girl’s feet like a hug. Claudette giggled lightly she loved papa his warm safe embraces, large enveloping hands and gentle singing voice reserved for when she was ill or frightened. Her parents each smiled at her once more before they turned back around to face the road ahead. Claudette turned to look out the window, the trees which zipped by were great bushy green blurs that the car sped past. The guard rail was like a thick and constant gray line which seemed to tie the world in a lovely smooth bow.

Her vision blurred and her eyes drooped lower and lower eventually coming to rest on the silly white line grown-ups liked to paint on the ground. The world slowly began to get dimmer and dimmer, duller and duller and finally darker and darker as she dosed off. The world was utterly shattered by an ear splitting and horrified scream. Claudette jolted immediately awake, her legs and arms shooting out in front of her. A moment was all the time she had for her young eyes to take everything in. Papa’s arm flew over maman’s chest in a protective manner, “Oh mon Dieu!” (Oh my God!) he shouted, brakes screamed shrilly, the light of the sun bounced off the headlights of the silvery car barreling towards them, maman’s hand reached back for her as panic settled heavily in Claudette’s heart.

It all happened in a second but each and every detail was profoundly surreal as, for those involved, time slowed down. The squeal of brakes, the crunch of metal mingled with the instantaneous lurch forward of their bodies seatbelts saving them from their forward momentum but cutting into and constricting their frail forms in the same instant. The glass shrieked before suddenly giving into defeat and sending sharp biting shards into their faces. Claudette as with her parents had the dizzying sensation of weightlessness as their car spun and rolled over the roof seemingly crashing down on them, but in truth they upon it and the metal bellowed and roared as it was twisted and mangled. When finally they came to rest upside down their minds were numb, distant things that had become detached from their bodies and took several minutes to sew themselves back together.

It took a few seconds but at last Claudette could form thought again and the first thing that came to mind was her pain, her whole everything hurt! A small scream escaped her lips, tears quickly filled her eyes before rolling down her forehead. “Maman!” she cried pulling her legs which hung above her towards the ground close to her body followed by the only arm she was able to move, the other filled with shooting pain. Dark circles were darting back and forth before her eyes her head throbbed yet was hollow and trying to float away at the same time.

“Oh mon Dieu,” (Oh my God,) papa groaned from the driver’s seat. “Oh mon Dieu!” he whimpered again reaching a shaking, glass bitten and bloody hand towards his wife. “Etes-vous allez bien?” (Are you alright?) he gasped taking hold of one of her limp and dangling arms. “Mon amour? Mon amour?” he asked weakly.

“Papa!” Claudette said her voice a quavering shutter.

“Ici cher!” (Here dear!) he wheezed.

Maman took a weak breath before she stirred turning her head gingerly. “Aider!” (Help!) she screamed immediately, not yet fully aware of their situation. “Aider!”

“Amour, amour etes-vous allez bien?” papa begged to know.

Claudette who was in terrible pain, full of fright and had little idea of what was going on shrieked out to them, “Maman, papa!”

“Oui mon bébé!” (Yes my baby!) maman said wearily. Hearing her voice the girl was comforted if only just. It was soon however that papa’s body was wracked with terrible spasms as he struggled to breathe and people gathered around them. The ambulance was a dizzying array of metal, plastic and the clean frightening smell of hospitals. Claudette was poked and prodded by innumerable doctors and nurses she spoke to her in brief sentences before holding conversations with each other in which they used large confusing words the girl couldn’t understand. Never in her life had she felt more alone or forgotten as the adults standing over discussed her wounds.

Papa died on the way to the hospital, and maman three days later. Claudette was hurt, scared, and so very alone, people came and talked with her about things she couldn’t comprehend. It was a dream, a dizzying terrible dream. Her arm in a sling and her body battered and bruised she stood solemn before two coffins, a sick feeling in her stomach and her heart a stone, her uncle’s hand on her shoulder…