“Yesterday,” I said.
“Everything happened yesterday?” she gasped. “Oh my god. Come home and visit, we will make a fun few days out of it.”
She rambled on about plans and what we could do, but her plans fell on deaf ears when I saw a child in the middle of the road reaching for his ball. Everything slowed—the truck coming at him, his hand reaching the ball—it was as if time had suddenly slowed down. I didn't know what to do until the truck honked, yanking me out of my stupor.
“Get out of the way!” I yelled, but the kid didn’t move. I ran, pumping my arms and digging my Gucci booties into the snow as I tried to go as fast as I could. “Kid, move!” I yelled again, but he was lost in his own world, chasing after the ball. The wind was taking it down the road, right toward the truck. A few people were standing around and watching, hands to their mouths, but why weren’t any of them trying? Some were closer to him than I was.
The truck honked again while trying to break, and I dived for the kid. Everything slowed down, time, the truck, the people around me, but my thoughts were as clear as day. If I wasn’t so upset with Chris, would I be putting my life at risk for someone I didn’t know? Probably. He was just a kid in the middle of the street and should know better, but that didn’t mean he deserved to get hit by a car. My heart reached out for Chris. I wanted to see him again. In that moment, I wanted to forgive him for what he did. It didn’t matter anymore. We were building something from scratch. All the other years that we knew each other didn’t matter. The past was the past, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult to get over. We were both learning. I needed to see Chris again. I wanted to explain how much I cared about him.
And if his truck didn’t hit me, I wasn’t going to do just that. My elbow hit the rock-hard cement, and the slow−motion disappeared and real life rush came in full force. The ice on the road made pain shoot up my arm as I rolled the kid to the side of the road, the truck crushing his red ball that could have been his head, or mine.
“Melinda? Melinda! What the hell just happened? Are you okay? I’m freaking out!”
Right. Lindsey was on the phone, and somehow, I managed to hold onto that too.
“Fine, I'll call you back, don’t worry,” I said, hanging up. I turned my head to the left to see the little boy crying, and two people who must be his parents running toward me.
“Oh my god, Henry!” His mother fell to her knees and embraced her son into a tight hug. The audience around us gathered clapped, and my cheeks burned from the attention. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” his mother asked.
“No, it’s just a little bump on my elbow. I’ll be fine. And it’s no problem. I did what anyone would do.” but looking at the people clapping, they didn’t do shit. So maybe I was wrong.
“Can we treat you to hot chocolate? Anything? Please, we will do anything.”
“Just stay safe,” I groaned when I got up, thanks to a helping hand from Henry’s father, who then proceeded to give me his card. “If you ever need anything, call me. Anything. We owe you.”
“It's fine…”
“I insist. Anything, please,” the man wrapped his arm around his wife and son and guided them to their car.
The adrenaline was still pumping through me, giving me a headrush. Savings that kid put everything in perspective. Did all the little things matter that bugged me? Like Bess’s snarky comments? Did I need to walk around angry with Chris, or could I talk to him about it?
That boy could have died today. It made me realize life is too short for petty thoughts, and I needed to grip it by its horns and live a little instead.
I also realized a little too late just how to hurt my elbow was. Maybe I should have taken them up on going to the doctors. I cradled my arm to my chest and started walking back, my phone ringing in my pocket.
Crap. Lindsey.
This was going to be one hell of a conversation.
