The Accident

The Accident

October 25, 2000 was a day that would change my life for ever. We had emigrated from Syria just over a year ago and were living in a two bedroom apartment. The day had started off like a normal day in my household where I woke up to the screams of my five-year-old twin brothers, Yusuf and Sari. I could slowly hear my mother’s calm voice getting louder in frustration in an attempt to dress them up for kindergarten.

“Yallah Yusuf and Sari,” she said exhausted, yallah being the Arabic word meaning “come on”, “I have given you many warnings, do you want me to call your father from the kitchen? You know that he will not be as kind, gentle and understanding as I am right now! Listen to your mother like the world and the people,” yelled my mom, translating an Arabic expression, meaning to obey normally like everyone else, literally.

“POOPIE HEAD!” Sari screamed as he ran out of the bathroom half naked and Yusuf ran after him.

“Zaher!, come and help me with Yusuf and Sari.,” my mom called out to my dad.

         Once that was said, the house grew quiet and my brothers obeyed my mom’s orders. They ran back into the bathroom and got dressed as they were told to.

After that fiasco, my mom came into the room that I shared with my brothers, “Sarah”, she called as she flickered the lights, “yallah, get up, you don’t wanna to be late for school.” I got up, dressed, and as usual, left with my mom to school. My dad was going to drive my brothers to school, since my high school was closer to my mom’s workplace. As I left out the door that morning, I had a weird feeling that things were not going to be the same again after today. I never would’ve guessed that that was going to be the last time I saw my dad and brothers.

On the bus heading to school, my mom and I were having a chat. “Mamma, I don’t wanna go to school.” I complained.

“Why not? What test are you worried about now? Or did you not finish your work you have to hand in today?”

“It’s not that!” I replied defensively, “It’s just that… I have a weird feeling that something bad is going to happen to dad and the boys today.”

“That’s crazy ya habla!” habla being Arabic for stupid girl, “Of course nothing will happen to them,” my mom replied as the bus driver had stopped right in front of my school. I got off and waved, hoping my mom would see me from the window.

         I went to my first period class, but I just couldn’t focus. My teacher was writing a lesson on the board on sine, cosine and tangent parabolas, but all that went through my mind were my dad and my brothers. “It’s okay, they’re probably safely in the car on the way to kindergarten,” I attempted to reassure myself.

During second period, I forced myself to focus more, until the PA system came on, “Can Sarah Younis please report to the office.” I could feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering about, or at least I think that’s how they say “I’m nervous” around here. As I was walking on my way to the main office with tears threatening to come down my face, I knew something bad was about to happen, I ran into my math teacher, Ms. S.

“Hey Sarah, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

         As I looked up to answer her, I felt weak on my feet, about to faint. Before I knew it, I was on the floor. It must have been at least five minutes before I came back to my senses. Ms. S. helped me stand up and guided me to a nearby bench.

“Sarah, are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you want to sit down for a bit?

“I don’t want to talk about it” I sniffled, “I can’t talk about it.”

“Sarah, please tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help. Are you being bullied? Is something wrong at home?”

I stayed silent. Why should I tell her what was wrong? Back in Syria, teachers didn’t care much about the students, how did I know I could trust her? I did not want the whole world to know my life story. “I just can’t tell you Ms. S.” I yelled, trying to stand up and run away

“Sarah, I know I’m a teacher who seems like a person who doesn’t understand what other people go through, but I’d like you to try and trust me sweetie. You can tell me what’s wrong because you’re getting me worried, even your face is pale.” Ms. S. said as her voice quivered and tears came into her eyes.

I could not keep it in now. This was too much drama for me. It was the first time I talked about my feelings to someone other than my mom. It may have been the fact that I was emotionally in shock, because to this day, I could not believe that I told Ms. S. what had happened.

“Before I left for school today, I had a feeling that I was never going to see my dad or my brothers again. I can’t explain or describe this feeling…they just called me down to the office, what if something happened to my dad and brothers?” I asked Ms. S. trying hard to compose myself.

“Sarah, don’t worry so much. I’m sure it’s all going to be fine, maybe they called you down for another reason.”

Just as she said that, two police officers walked into the hallway with my principal. “Sarah, I’m sorry, but it is up to me to inform you that your brothers and dad just died in a car accident, obviously your mother is not in the right state of mind  to,” my principal told me. There was a long pause.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. You must have been close with your family. I know that getting over the passing of someone’s death is hard, especially if you have been very close, but it is a fact of life that we cannot escape. I know what it feels like to miss someone terribly. I live all alone here in Toronto, while my family lives back in Dubai. Everyday I wake up crying knowing that I cannot see my mom daily, that I don’t have the chance to get to know my sister a little better and that I can’t talk to my brothers.”  Ms. S. explained as she leaned over to hug me, and tried to comfort me.

“Can you leave me alone?” I yelled, “You don’t know what I am feeling, you can see your family in a few years, but I will never see my dad or brothers.” I said

“We’re going to take you to the hospital where your dad and siblings currently lie. You will meet your mom there,” the police officer explained emotionless.

“Sarah, do you want me to come with you? “ Ms. S. asked kindly

         This seemed very weird and creepy to me at the time. I barely knew this lady, and all of a sudden she was offering to stay with me and my mom and help us through our time of grief.

“No! I don’t even know you!” I yelled as I stood up from the bench.

I left school with the police officers, only looking back to see Ms. S. staring in front of her crying. I guess I felt a tinge of guilt for yelling at her, but all of that guilt was surrounded by an indescribable feeling of emotional pain.

“I hope you and your mom make it through alright Sarah,” Ms. S. called after us as I pushed open the front door of our school to leave for the hospital.