What a night

Last night at 11, That Guy left to take a friend home after dinner. He called me to say they had seen a car accident and would be delayed, so I read for a while and then went to bed. At midnight, my phone rang. It was T.G.

I was a little groggy, but I woke up right away when he said, "There's blood in my hair."

A young woman had rolled her car over on a residential street. They called 911, some neighbors came to see what was going on, and no one touched the girl.  Everyone knows you're not supposed to move an injured person in that kind of situation.

Then they noticed that there was gas leaking onto the street, and something in the car was smoking.  Neither the police nor an ambulance had arrived. The little crowd of people decided it was time to act.

But T.G. had to beg them five times to actually help him.  He unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her out of the car. He tried to turn the car off, but it was still in gear and he didn't want to touch the shifter, which was gory.  "I could see her skull," he told me.

The girl was conscious and speaking (though not coherent) by the time they took her away.  One of the neighbors let T.G. in to wash up. The neighbor had a large, friendly dog and a pack of cigarettes, which was the perfect combination to keep T.G. from going to pieces in the aftermath.

Meanwhile, three states away, my mother was sitting with her father, who was dying. He left us about 1 in the morning to see his Lord and his wife.

If anyone knows if the girl is all right, we'd love to find out.  Grandpa's better than he's been in years.