Katie's Accident

Hear the story read by the author.

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. One recent Wednesday evening Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s daughter Katie was slumped forlornly in his office. “It wasn’t my fault,” she protested.

“Just tell me what happened,” Henry said, trying not to lose his temper.

“Mrs. Miggins’ has to take some medicine that affects her eyesight so she hired me to do some chores for twenty bucks.”

“Yes, I know all that,” Henry said. “I dropped you off at her house.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Mrs. Miggins medication affects more than her eyes because she kept telling me to feed the cat, but she doesn’t have a cat. But when I tried to explain that to her she accused me of killing the cat. So I told her I would feed the cat if she told me where the food was. She said it was under the sink but there was no food there because, you know, she doesn’t really have a cat. So finally I just made a bowl of cereal and put it on the floor by the back door.”

“Get to the part about the car,” Henry demanded.

“I am! Sheesh.” Katie rolled her eyes. “Okay, so it was about 6:45 and Mrs. Miggins said she had to get to the Trustees meeting. You were supposed to pick us up and take her there but you were late.”

“Yes, I know,” O’Donnell replied. “Something urgent came up.” He purposely omitted the details of what had delayed him. He didn’t think Katie needed to know he was late because he’d gotten into an argument with a seventeen year-old classmate of hers, who also happened to be the manager of a nearby fast food joint, over what size fries he’d ordered at the drive-through.

“Well,” Katie continued, “Mrs. Miggins was getting really upset. I tried to call your cell a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer.”

Henry had left his cell phone in the car while he went inside to debate the teenage fry dictator. “You should have waited,” he told Katie. “I would have been there soon.”

“I wanted to wait. But Mrs. Miggins was getting angry. She didn’t want to be late to the meeting. She was afraid they would vote on what color to paint the narthex without her. When she found out I have my learner’s permit, she said I could drive her in her car. I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea but she said if I wanted to get paid, I’d do it.”

“You aren’t supposed to drive without being supervised by someone over 21.”

“That’s what I told Mrs. Miggins. She said she was a lot older than 21.”

“Yes, but she couldn’t see!”

“I pointed that out to her as well. She said she would be able to hear if I did something wrong. I kind of believed her, actually.”

“Okay,” Henry said, rubbing his temples. “But Mrs. Miggins’ car is a stick shift. You don’t know how to drive a stick shift.”

“I told her that, too,” Katie replied. “She said that was a travesty and that she would teach me. She also said a lot of nasty things about you because you weren’t teaching me to drive a stick shift, by the way.”

“I’m sure she did,” Henry sighed. “Look, you clearly weren’t ready or you wouldn’t have wrecked her car.”

“First of all,” Katie informed him, “it’s not wrecked. The fire hydrant had a lot more damage than that old monster Ford Mrs. Miggins has. And second of all, I drove it very well. And it wasn’t easy, either, with Mrs. Miggins yelling at me all the time about the squirrels in the road. I kept telling her there were no squirrels in the road but she kept insisting I was slaughtering the poor little rodents. That’s the way she said it: slaughtering the poor little rodents.”

“Get to the accident,” Henry snapped.

“That’s just it,” Katie practically shouted. “I didn’t have an accident. We got to the church just fine. I parked in the parking lot but Mrs. Miggins had fallen asleep. I couldn’t wake her up so I decided to leave her there and get help.”

“So how did the car end up hitting the fire hydrant? Did Mrs. Miggins drive it away?”

“No, Dad. Apparently when you park a stick shift you can’t leave it in neutral or it rolls. And nobody told me that.”

“So the car rolled down the hill and hit the fire hydrant while you were in the church.”

“Yes!” Katie exclaimed triumphantly.

Henry sat back, jaw clenched, face red with anger. “Katie, if you ever want to get your driver’s license you need to be a lot more responsible.”

“But Dad,” Katie pleaded, “I told you, it wasn’t my fault!”

At that moment Henrietta Miggins stepped into the office. “She’s right,” Henrietta said.

“I thought you were going to the hospital,” Henry replied.

“I’m fine,” Henrietta huffed. “I was wearing my seatbelt. And there’s no way I’m going to let those trustees paint the narthex some outlandish color. Ralph Billings wanted to paint it olive, if you can believe that.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Henry said. “And don’t worry. Katie will pay for the damage to your car as part of her punishment.”

“Nonsense,” Henrietta said. “You’ll pay for the damage to the car. It was your fault after all.”

“My fault!” Henry exclaimed.

“Of course,” Henrietta said. “Who doesn’t turn on their cell phone in this day and age? And what kind of father doesn’t teach his daughter to drive a manual transmission?”

“See Dad,” Katie said. “I told you it wasn’t my fault. It was yours.”

“Don’t back talk your father,” Henrietta snapped at Katie. Then she handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “You did a fine job today, dear. Pastor, I want you and Katie to pick me up on Friday and take me to get my car from the shop. Katie can drive me home in it. I’ll finish teaching her how to operate a manual transmission.”

“Fine,” Henry sighed. His head hurt and he didn’t want to argue. Katie was considering which would be worse – letting her Dad punish her or learning to drive from Mrs. Miggins.

Henrietta fixed the pastor with a stern gaze. “Honestly,” she said, “I don’t know how you get any work done with all these squirrels running around in here.”

She turned and stomped out of the room. Katie just shrugged to her father. There wasn’t a squirrel in sight.