I looked over and saw a younger man in the passenger’s seat. Everyone sort of assumes that when faced with life-and-death situations, you will panic. But almost everyone who’s actually experienced something like that will tell you that panic is a luxury you cannot afford. In the moment, you act without thinking, doing all you can with the information you have. It’s when it’s over that you scream. And cry. And wonder how you got through it. Because most likely, in the case of real trauma, your brain isn’t great at making memories. It’s almost as if the camera is on but no one’s recording. So afterward, you go to review the tape, and it’s all but blank. Here is what I remember. I remember Nick breaking open Harry’s car door. I remember helping to pull Harry out. I remember thinking that we shouldn’t move Harry because we could paralyze him. But I also remember thinking that I couldn’t possibly stand by and allow Harry to stay there, slumped on the wheel like that. I remember holding Harry in my arms as he bled. I remember the deep gash in his eyebrow, the way the blood coated half his face in thick rust red. I remember seeing the cut from where the seat belt had sliced the lower side of his neck. I remember two of his teeth being in his lap. I remember rocking him back and forth. I remember saying, “Stay with me, Harry. Stay with me. Stay true blue.” I remember the other man on the road next to me. I remember Nick telling me he was dead. I remember thinking that no one who looked like that could be alive. I remember Harry’s right eye opening. I remember the way it inflated me with hope, the way the white of his eye looked so bright against the