You can probably tell where this is going. I don’t remember what happened or what I did or why. A swerve, a slamming of breaks, and I was sandwiched between two cars. It all took less than two seconds, but it turns out two seconds can grab hold of your life and turn it upside down.

JACK

DEPRESSION. IN RETROSPECT I know that’s what I was experiencing, although at the time I didn’t know it. I was forcing myself through work, just barely making it, and then sleeping the rest of the time. I’d given up on spirituality—I’d pretty much decided I didn’t have a soul—I’d given up on sex, I’d given up on basically everything. The only reason I hadn’t done myself in was because I didn’t know a good way of doing it and didn’t have the mental energy to really think it out.

I’d wrapped on my last project. Christmas was fast approaching, but the last thing I wanted was to be surrounded by my normal family, seeing Abby’s new son and being reminded of how utterly alone I was. I made an excuse to Mom about why I couldn’t come again this year, promised to call on Christmas Day, and generally executed a performance worthy of an Oscar by getting through the whole hour-long conversation without her realizing what a mess I was.

I slept away most of the following week, only to be roused on Thursday afternoon by a call from an old friend from Every Other Night. We’d been pretty good buddies back then, and in the first couple years after the show’s demise. He’d called to see if I wanted to join him and some friends for a week of sailing off the coast of Mexico. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my bed, much less my apartment, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I exhausted my list of excuses before relenting and promising to meet him at the port in San Diego on Monday night.

I had absolutely nothing to do between then and Monday, yet I put off everything to the last minute and left later than I should have Monday night. After throwing some clothes in a duffel, I jumped in the car at 7:30 and headed toward the I-5. Adding insult to injury, a jackknifed semi had blocked traffic. We sat for a full hour before one lane was finally opened—hallelujah!—and cars slowly started trickling through like a leaky faucet. But since I was a mile back from the semi, it took another hour before I was through.