From a distance you might think she was ripped in half. But as you got closer, as you rushed up to care for her, to offer assistance to her, you’d realize it was a streak of blood right down the middle of her face that gave this illusion. And if you had been clairvoyant and could read her X-rays at that exact moment, maybe as they were displayed on the sidewalk next to her, you’d know that she had a broken arm and 3 broken ribs and that her jaw was cracked, her skull cracked too, with 3 missing teeth where her cheek had already begun to swell bluish green, a forehead wound so deep you could see deeper than you’d ever want to. And maybe if you were a world class surgeon, or an Army medic used to such things, you could set her arm and tape her ribs and maybe even sew up her scalp, maybe you could fashion a small pipette that once positively sterilized could be inserted through her swollen lips and pushed through her broken teeth as a feeding tube. Then, if you were extra well supplied, maybe you drip morphine through that single pipette, that single lifeline to the outside world. to give her a bit of relief. You’d clean her up almost to the point of being whole again.
But no, you’re neither clairvoyant, a world-class surgeon, or an Army medic trained for such things. You’re merely a passer by, who happened to intersect this horrible moment mere seconds after it occurred.
So instead, she suffers. And bleeds out onto the concrete. And you can do nothing but watch.
Riff on East of Eden Centennial Edition, Page 111.