On the Outside(Dave Maze) Have you ever thought about the implications of a decision? Whether easy or difficult, it still holds the weight of destiny in its choice. I, West Stevens, learned that the hard way.

How has nobody seen the wreckage yet? The scattering of steaming scrap metal, and my lifeless body (a mere 29 years old) painted a dark crimson under the pale moonlight.

I didn’t see the other car coming, and before I knew it, it was too late. I’m fairly certain alcohol was involved…people don’t drive on the wrong side of the road for kicks.

The smoke from the screeching tires settled beneath the falling snow. It looked like clouds separating, and flaking as they dropped. I could see the other man in the crisp clear winter air, his head rested weightlessly on the steering wheel air bag. He died on impact, and now I can smell the Wiser’s Whiskey. The open bottle in the back lends truth to my suspicions.

I often wonder if I’m the only person who imagines worst-case scenarios like this? That thinks about every choice I make having a connection with something in my past, present, or future. I wonder what people would say if I died. When I’m on a plane, I wonder if it will crash. When I ride a roller coaster, I imagine it soaring off track. These thoughts don’t bother me because they are part of me. I know that they’re rather dark, but if things were always light in life, there would be no challenges to overcome. It’s obstacles that give us purpose.

This is the obstacle that lies before my family and I; for my family, it’s if I die or awake a different person. For me, it’s if I somehow manage to wake up. You may be asking yourself how I got here, and it all comes back to decisions.

It was a typical winter Wednesday in Toronto. I went to work, a desk job from 9-5 (barf), took the TTC back to Finch station, and drove home in feather-falling flurries. I took a 20-minute power nap and had my go-to pre hockey meal; spaghetti and tomato sauce with grilled chicken from Paoletti’s Pizzeria. Hockey was unreasonably late on a work night. Who wants to play at 11 o’clock?

On the way home from the game, I had a craving. Something sweet? Maybe. Something salty? Perhaps. Something spicy? No. Something crunchy? Maybe. As you can see, my ability to settle on a decision isn’t my best quality. Internal tug of war is a common occurrence and I worry the rope is fraying with every yank. Eventually it will snap. Perhaps it just did.

The snow hadn’t stopped falling since work and was now joined by tiny ice pellets that looked like vanilla Dippin’ Dots. They pattered all over the car, which had fishtailed several times. Luckily the roads were quiet at 12:30 on a weeknight. The drive was relaxing and I was in deep thought, forgetting to stop at the convenience store down the street from my house. I pulled into the driveway and as I put the car in park, the forgotten snack occurred to me. My stomach rumbled and I pictured it saying, “You idiot. Go back so I can eat!” That’s exactly what I did.

After 5 minutes of indecisiveness, I settled on a banana cream soda Froster and Ringolos. Sweet and crunchy it was. I wish I could have seen a video of myself in that store. I must have looked insane, walking from the chips to the chocolate to the candy and then all over again in a robotic trance of unhealthy desire.

My man, Manjeed was monitoring the cash as he did every Wednesday night. We had our usual small talk and I was on my way.

I made a left out of the plaza and stayed in the left lane as I stopped at the intersection just up ahead. The light was red and I closed my eyes, basking in the raspy range of Chris Cornell’s voice. Hungerstrike was a fitting tune as I blindly shoved the zingy rings into my mouth, slurping on my Froster to wash them down. When I looked, the opposite lights started to turn yellow. It was at this moment that I noticed the Mustang directly across the street. It was flying down the hill right before the intersection and seemed to be drifting in and out of lanes. I looked around, seeing one car approaching the plaza’s exit. Panic kicked in as the Mustang veered to the left, locking itself in a direct line with me. The headlights shone bright white beams that felt like the foreshadowing of heaven’s gates. Impact was imminent. The call and response vocals from Cornell and Eddie Vedder seemed to fade away. It’s true what they say; you don’t have a second to think when death is staring you down. I hit the gas and tried to make the left. My tires didn’t rotate half a circle by the time the crash occurred.

He hit the front right bumper, and at first I remembered everything from the crunching sound of machinery to the flying Ringolos that tapped on the windows. I can still see the sticky slushy splashing all over the crumbling dashboard. The windshield cracked under the pressure, shattering in my lap as the car began to slide backwards, diagonally and to the left. Shards of glass were piercing my track pants, slicing different parts of my thigh. This was the last thing to worry about. The other car had rolled up to the exit and turned left as the horrific sequence began. It collided with my back left bumper. This is where it starts to get a little blurry. I had forgotten to put my belt on when I got back in the car with my snacks and the shift in energy displacement ejected me out of the seat. It was like no other feeling I had experienced. I was the cannonball inside the cannon aimed at the spot where my body would soon be. Without the windshield, the exit was smooth. A straight shot through the cold air and 50 feet later, I began my skid. I’d give myself a ‘7’ for style and a ‘3’ for landing. It was not very graceful.

This was about the time I blacked out, but I could see myself on the outside and am remembering it all now as I retell the event. I skidded across the snowy road like a rag doll, each thump creating new gashes and breaks. By the time I settled, the other two cars had too. I was the only one not behind the driver’s seat anymore. The woman in the third car was flustered, but okay as she began to exit her vehicle.

I watched as the paramedics moved my body. Now, I don’t necessarily believe in a higher power, but if there was ever an omen, it was this. The white outline of my body was crystal clear on the pavement where my mangled pile of flesh and bone melted away the snow. It looked like a murder scene, and in many ways, it was.

Before I chose to stay or leave this earth, I thought about decisions and the chain of events the smallest ones can set off.

I chose to go to hockey that night when I could have skipped a late start like many of my teammates often did. I chose to stay in the game despite a mild shoulder injury that occurred in the second period. I then made the call to shower at home rather than the arena. The indecision for snack preference led me to my driveway where I decided to head out and pursue what I meant to do before. Furthermore, I spent all that time deciding on food and subconsciously chatting with Manjeed. Consumed by the indulgence of my snacks, I forgot to put my seat belt on. My second last decision was trying to turn left as the Mustang roared across the intersection.

So you see, choosing to play hockey led to my injury. My stubborn toughness pushed me to stay in the game as opposed to leaving early. My laziness resulted in leaving the arena, stinking of sweat. My inability to choose brought me home, and hunger brought me back to my original destination. Picking the food could have taken shorter or longer as could the small talk if Manjeed or I asked one more or less question.

All of the aforementioned decisions led to this point and if any of them were diminutively different, I wouldn’t be in this life-threatening situation. Every second can mean the difference between life and death.

I thought about my parents sleeping at home, one minute away from where their only son was fighting for his life. I knew they would soon get a call. My sleeping sister, brother-in law and girlfriend would subsequently receive the same dreaded call. Slowly, word would spread like wildfire, regardless of survival.

Now I must make my choice. The biggest decision of my life; a life I’m not sure I want to continue. One where I’m so far gone from the original West I once was that my shadow wouldn’t recognize the new me. No, that’s not how I imagined my story being written. Can I really start to mend these wounds and live to see another day? It feels like I’m just travelling along a runaway train to nowhere.

I enjoyed every second of life, but every second was enough. I do believe that the sun will shine tomorrow; I just won’t be around to see it.

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