“Sure, what do you need?”
“Just a few things to go with dinner—some lettuce, cheese, corn chips, olives—”
“What are we having for dinner?” I laughed.
“Taco salad.”
“Do you have a list for me?” She handed me a piece of paper. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I should call Chay and have him go with you, or maybe Muriel.”
“I’m fine. There are lots of people at the supermarket.”
She bit her bottom lip before nodding. “Okay, but be careful.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “Love you.” I ran out the door and to the car before she changed her mind and called Muriel or Chay to be my bodyguard.
Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the supermarket with the groceries. My gaze was drawn to an elderly woman carrying a single bag and walking toward the road.
Everything around me screeched to a stop. The cars froze on the road. The people talking and moving around the shopping center’s parking lot stilled. An airplane hung stationary in midair. Only the woman moved. She slowly inched her way toward the crosswalk.
In the quiet, I heard the far-off motor of a vehicle. I watched it move along the road. The cars around it were like holographic images. It drove right through them, barreling toward the crosswalk where the old woman stood waiting to cross the street.
My breathing increased. I tried to concentrate on the vision, afraid the van was going to hit the woman. My heart hammering in my head, I watched as the old woman stepped off the curb. She was slowly making her way across the road when her bag fell to the ground, spilling what little groceries she had across the pavement.
She started to gather the items. Folding her long coat up, she made a pouch to carry her things. She was loading her coat with her food when she noticed the van. It was coming too fast to stop, even if the man at the wheel had been watching—he wasn’t. He wasn’t going the speed limit either. Not unless the small neighborhood market had been located on the Autobahn.
I sucked in a breath to scream for her to move. She let go of the edge of her coat and scurried out of the way of the van barreling toward her. Trying to hurry, she lost her balance and fell on all fours against the curb. Her hands and knees scraped and bloodied, she heaved her body from the ground, and walked safely to the sidewalk lining the street.
She turned and looked at the remnants of her groceries. The van never slowed down, plowing over her things. A meager supply of fresh fruits and vegetables were smashed into puddles on the street. A flattened loaf of bread and a smashed carton of eggs littered the pavement. A small container of milk leaked into the gutter, turning the dirty water an opaque tan, like the color of coffee with creamer in it.
The woman bent down and fished two cans of soup from the filthy gutter. The only items not ruined. Shoulders slumped, she shuffled down the sidewalk, stuffing her two cans of soup in her coat pockets.
I jerked as the sights and sounds around me came crashing back. I looked around and saw the woman making her way toward the crosswalk, carrying her one small bag of groceries—just like in my vision.
“Ma’am, let me help you.” I jogged to catch up to her.
She looked me up and down, a small frown pulling at her thin lips, which were covered with cracked lipstick two shades too light for her mocha-colored skin.
“Let me help you carry your things across the road. The bag looks heavy, and there’s so much traffic today.” I reached tentatively toward her bag, trying not to startle her into thinking I was going to steal her things.
Now that I could see her close up, I realized how important that one bag of groceries probably was to her. Her coat was stained and torn. Her stockings had runs and small holes in them, the soles of her shoes flapping when she walked. She looked like a lady who lived paycheck to paycheck, barely scraping by. The type who wouldn’t be able to afford to replace lost groceries. I wondered what she would eat if I wasn’t able to stop her and the van destroyed her food.
“I could use some help,” she said quietly. “The cold weather isn’t kind to me.” I looked at her hands and saw her knuckles twisted and swollen from arthritis.
“I don’t mind helping. Do you live there?” I pointed to a small apartment complex on the other side of the road.
“Yes.”
“I can carry them for you.” She hesitated a moment before handing me her bag with a small smile.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m Milayna.” I swung my canvas shopping tote over my shoulder so I could carry her bag.
“It’s nice to meet you, Milayna. I’m Mae.” She turned to step off the curb; I held my arm out for her to lean on. She grabbed it and pushed off the curb just as the van sped by, never slowing down, never looking for pedestrians. “My, he’s going fast.” Mae looked at the back of the van speeding down the street.