I needed beer, cilantro, something I couldn't remember, romaine lettuce. The store is just a hundred yards away. It's already dark at 6 pm, I walk past a police car parked in the police zone. That's strange. There's an ambulance when I turn the corner red and yellow lights alternating lazily outside the front door of the grocery.
There was a silver sedan parked in the handicapped zone just past the mailbox, an elderly couple starting to get into it. But like me, they were rubbernecking, suddenly in front of my eyes the woman stubs her toe on the blue parking bumper and crashes to the ground. Why do they make those things? Their only real function is to break your leg or remove your oil pan.
It seems like slow motion, I can track her thin body swiveling in the air as she lurches forward, her shoulders rounding slightly in anticipation of the impact but her arms still at her sides. Her feet flail in the air as her head disappears beneath the curb in front of me. With rare presence of mind I leap forward to help.
"I think she's OK," I tell her husband, who has come around the back. "She fell on her body, I don't think she hit her head." We get our arms beneath her, raise her to her feet, ease her into the car. She seems alert, looking at me and answering my questions. "How does your hip feel?"
"Thank you, oh thank you," she's saying. Her husband more soberly saying "I've got to get her to a hospital."
Somewhat prematurely I disengage and go into the store, hearts of romaine, cilantro, what was that other thing? I'm pushing a bundle of wet cilantro into a produce bag when I feel something sticky on my bare wrist and look down to find my hand covered with blood. Dashing back outside just as the man turns on the lights to drive away.
Peering into the car it's obvious. This lady is wearing a white nylon jacket, and it's quickly becoming soaked with red. Enough half-actions. "We better get those guys over here," I tell the husband, and getting no argument, turn and run to the fire engine that's just pulled up behind the ambulance. "Nothing to do with that," I blurt out, "There's a lady over hear that just took a fall, bleeding, needs your help!"
I guess we were lucky that that ambulance was there, though it was what started it all. I left with the paramedics performing their mercies. Tortillas. That was the other thing I had to buy. Hope she's all right.
There was a silver sedan parked in the handicapped zone just past the mailbox, an elderly couple starting to get into it. But like me, they were rubbernecking, suddenly in front of my eyes the woman stubs her toe on the blue parking bumper and crashes to the ground. Why do they make those things? Their only real function is to break your leg or remove your oil pan.
It seems like slow motion, I can track her thin body swiveling in the air as she lurches forward, her shoulders rounding slightly in anticipation of the impact but her arms still at her sides. Her feet flail in the air as her head disappears beneath the curb in front of me. With rare presence of mind I leap forward to help.
"I think she's OK," I tell her husband, who has come around the back. "She fell on her body, I don't think she hit her head." We get our arms beneath her, raise her to her feet, ease her into the car. She seems alert, looking at me and answering my questions. "How does your hip feel?"
"Thank you, oh thank you," she's saying. Her husband more soberly saying "I've got to get her to a hospital."
Somewhat prematurely I disengage and go into the store, hearts of romaine, cilantro, what was that other thing? I'm pushing a bundle of wet cilantro into a produce bag when I feel something sticky on my bare wrist and look down to find my hand covered with blood. Dashing back outside just as the man turns on the lights to drive away.
Peering into the car it's obvious. This lady is wearing a white nylon jacket, and it's quickly becoming soaked with red. Enough half-actions. "We better get those guys over here," I tell the husband, and getting no argument, turn and run to the fire engine that's just pulled up behind the ambulance. "Nothing to do with that," I blurt out, "There's a lady over hear that just took a fall, bleeding, needs your help!"
I guess we were lucky that that ambulance was there, though it was what started it all. I left with the paramedics performing their mercies. Tortillas. That was the other thing I had to buy. Hope she's all right.
1 comment:
But what about the beer?? Too much bloody mary?
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