Because I Am A Lover

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In 2018, after picking my daughter up from school, I headed to my mother’s home to visit her. My daughter had been asking to see her since the day before, and my mom wanted to see her just as much. But traffic was a lot to say the least.

It had taken over twenty minutes just to get through traffic and pick my daughter up. School had let out, and cars were bumper to bumper. So, I talked to my daughter about her school day, while snailing through traffic.

I can’t remember what my daughter said. What I can remember is looking up and seeing her eyes smiling at me in the rearview. And then the thud rocked me forward, and I instinctively slammed on the brakes. Even with my blood pumping in my ears, I could hear the screech of the tire and the bump.

“Are you ok?” I asked, as I reached back to take assessment.

“Yeah. I’m ok,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’m aight. Stay in the car.”

As I got out of my car, the woman in the other car got out of hers. I stopped for a moment, as we looked at each other. I shook my head. Her manicured white nails and heels told me I had ruined her day. I walked over but kept my distance as she walked around the back of her car and took pictures.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to hit your car. I was talking to my daughter and got distracted,” I said, shaking my head. “Are you ok? Are you injured?”

She looked in the direction of my car and saw my daughter’s silhouette. “I’m fine,” she said. She took a second look at her car. “It doesn’t look like there’s any damage.” Then, she put the phone to her ear, and this was when I realized she had been on the phone.

“Yeah, Dad? It’s no damage,” she said, and filled him in on the rest of the story. She told him she was in a rush and that I had my daughter with me. A few seconds later, she hung up.

“I don’t think we need to file a report. The police wouldn’t come if we wanted to. I think we’re good,” she said.

I agreed but still took pictures and gave her my contact information, along with my insurance. I made a report later that night to be on the safe side.

When I got back in my car, my daughter interrogated me like she was FOX News. I gave her all the answers, while we finally made progress towards my mother’s home. We got there, and my mom met us with hugs and kisses. I planned to let my daughter get settled in before telling my mom what happened. My daughter had no such plan.

“Daddy hit a lady car,” my daughter said casually, as she took off her book bag.

“Jermaine, you did what? Are y’all ok? Come here, baby,” she said, wrapping her arms around my daughter.

“I’m ok, Ma,” my daughter said.

As I told my mother what happened, my phone pinged. I checked the screen and saw a notification for a Facebook friend request. I started to sit it down when I saw a message from someone I didn’t know. So, I clicked it.

I almost did a double-take. It was the woman whose car I had hit earlier. She reflected on the situation and again confirmed she was unharmed. She told me her dad had been very sympathetic about the whole thing and didn’t have any bad feelings. I apologized again and offered any assistance that might be needed. And I accepted her friend request. That was the wildest part.

She and I had over 250 mutual friends. Some of these friends came from the university we both attended at the time. She was finishing her bachelor’s, and she worked as a mortician in funeral services. I was finishing my master’s degree at the time, after previously graduating from the same university with my bachelor’s degree. Besides sharing the same university, we grew up in the same area.

I scrolled her Facebook page and saw the high schools she and I went to were less than a mile apart. Located on the Southside, our high schools are situated around the Bronzeville area. It’s a really tight-knit community, and everyone knows everyone. Or they know some of the same people. It was obviously no different when it came to me and woman whose car I hit.

Either way, she and I traded messages every so often on Facebook. Whenever I posted something she related to, she gave it a heart or “like.” I returned the energy. It was only right considering how reasonable she’d been. The rest is poetry.

The Takeaway

I hit a woman’s car because I was distracted by love, but I found a friend because I led with it. In a world that tells us to aggressively defend, to be hard and to expect the worst from strangers, I chose a different path.

Because I am a lover, I didn’t see an insurance claim. I saw a human, albeit a pretty one. We are all walking around with an invisible web of 250 mutual friends connecting us. Sometimes, it takes a little collision to remind us that we aren’t strangers at all. Our love is not measured by the love we give friends and family. It’s measured by how we extend it in the hardest times to those we may not know, even at our own financial risk. And if we take time to right our wrongs, we are all lovers in the end.

FOLLOW the author Jermaine Reed, Jermaine Reed, MFA for his controversial but real hot takes.

“I’m trying to right my wrongs. But it’s funny, them same wrongs help me write this song,” — Kanye West