Thursday, December 17, 2009

The only short story I have ever written.

Little Toy Car

I woke up a little later than usual one morning, but just like any other day the sun filled my room and gave me a sense of a relaxed feeling. I turned over to look at the alarm beside my bed, it read 8:50. My eyes widened a bit more and suddenly rose out of bed, led myself down the hallway, past my son Jake’s room. His bedding was all messed up. There was only one place he could be. I turned the corner of the hall to find him sitting in a ball on the floor, watching his usual morning cartoons.

“Mornin’ buddy,” I said as I proceeded to the kitchen where I always find coffee in the pot waiting for me.

I walked through the other side of the kitchen and sat at the table near our balcony.

We have a beautiful view, our condo overlooks the beach, and it’s always so bright and sunny. You can see sailboats on the ocean and people surfing. I turned on my laptop to check the daily Miami news reports, to see what kind of crime had brewed overnight. Then I checked my emails, a message from Tom, Ted and Bob, my boss saying we had an urgent detectives meeting this morning at 10 AM.
“Gah, as if they didn’t phone me. How often do people go around checking their emails these days anyway,” I thought to myself.

All of a sudden the phone rang; I looked at the caller-ID, it was Bob, my boss. I didn’t answer, though I probably should have. Instead I walked into the kitchen and dumped my coffee in the sink. I placed the mug on the counter, and stood there for a bit as my stomache started to growl.
“Shit, we don’t have time for breakfast.”

My phone laid on the counter with3 missed calls, one text from Bob. It was 9:15 I walked into the living room and told Jake it was time to get ready, no response.

“Dad’s got a cop meeting Jake,” I said, still no head movement from the kid.
I crouched down beside him and said,

“Hey Jake, how ‘bout some McDonalds?” Well that got his attention as Jake immediately looked up at me, eyes all wide and said,

“Yeah!”

He got up and rushed down the hall to his room to get dressed, I followed him and went into my room. I stood there for a moment staring at my closet. I had to dress appropriate for the meeting which I would most likely be late for. At that moment, I heard another ring. I ignored the call, then opened it for a text message and told Ted, I was on my way. I snapped the phone shut and turned my attention to the closet. I grabbed my favorite blue tie, a matching shirt and a pair of pants and got dressed. I grabbed my wallet, keys, badge, and phone from the night table and dashed into the bathroom and called for Jake to join me for our morning ritual. Jake and I would brush our teeth, comb our hair and wash up for the day. Besides, a four year-old needs assistance in the everyday grueling task of grooming.

Jake went back to his room for a few minutes to play with his cars. It was 9:25. I had a few minutes to go to the kitchen to make sure everything was neat and tidy. Kate despises a mess when she gets home. Being a nurse, Kate tries to keep everything in her life clean and organized. So I walked into the kitchen, wiped down the marble counter tops, made sure everything was in the trash, and placed my empty mug that was left on the counter, rinsed it under the tap and placed it in the sink. Then I quickly made my way back to Jake’s room. He was sitting quietly, all his cars in a circle around him, playing peacefully as any child should.

“Jake, it’s time to go,” I said while leaning in the doorway. Jake looked up at me with a smile,
“I’m hungry.” he said.
“Ok, good,” I said, “We’ll go to drive-thru on our way, but we have to hurry to the car, dad’s going to be late for a police meeting.”
“Okay,” said Jake as he jumped up, looked at his cars, and found his favourite police car and put it in his pocket as he did every morning.

We grabbed our stuff and headed to the car. I buckled Jake into the backseat. I sat up front and as soon as I turned the key in the ignition,

“Dad, you forgot my backpack,” said Jake looking at me intently,

I turned around to look at him, the sun shining in my face, I turned to face forward, thinking to myself, “I must have left it, maybe I could just dash upstairs and leave him in the car.” Then I shook my head and quickly got out, walked around the car, to the right side and opened the door. I picked him up and ran back into the condo, up the stairs. Still holding Jake with one arm, I saw the green army camouflaged bag which was resting on Jake’s doorknob, I grabbed it with my free hand and ran back downstairs. By this time, I had 30 minutes to drop Jake off at the sitter’s and get to my meeting.

I pretty much sped through the express way; I had to drive around the beach to get to the other condo community where Jakes sitter lived. Promising Jake McDonalds, I had to make a pit stop. We went through the line surprisingly fast; there were only three cars ahead of us. Most of the morning traffic had slowed down by 9:40 as most commuters were already at work. We were in and out in four minutes.

“I’ll hold on to this till we get there,” I said to Jake after the brown bag and cup of OJ was given to me. Jake squirmed in his seat and I didn’t want a tantrum on my hands so I gave him a hash brown.

“But no ketchup,” I said flatly. I was pretty confident I would make it in time.

We arrived at the sitter’s; I left the car on and took him to the door. We walked up the steps of the two-storey condo, almost identical to our own. I let Jake ring the buzzer. Paisley, the sitter’s little terrier began her daily, “Jake’s here,” bark. I glanced down at my phone, it said 9:48. Worried about the time, I rushed Jake through the door and gave him a quick hug. Just as I was about to get in the car, Jake jolted the door up the stairs open and cried out,

“Dad, I think I dropped my car.”
I didn’t have the time to deal with it, I told him,

“it’s OK, we’ll find it later.”

“But…,” Jake started and I cut him off,

“daddy’s late, bud, I have to go, bye.”
I closed the door and left him standing there with his foot in the door.

I had 10 minutes to get to this meeting and wasn’t going to be late. I sped, the fastest I’ve ever sped in my life. My phone kept vibrating sickened by it; I threw it on the dash. I still hadn’t answered it nor had I opened any of the text messages. Most likely it was all from Bob; by this time he had called four times and left about six texts. In downtown Miami, at about 9:56, I was stopped by a red light only two blocks away from the police station; the vibrations still going, I reached onto the dash to pick up my phone; seven texts. The light turned green,

“Yes almost there, wow I made awesome time,” I said out loud.

I sped up a bit maybe doing 70 in a 50 zone. I decided to quickly text Bob, just to let him know I was parking.

“I will be there in no time,” I thought and I opened the first text, it read:

Detective Hoban, I’ve tried calling you, this morning’s meeting has been delayed until this afternoon, don’t bother coming in early,
Bob


I looked at it astonished,

“what a hell of a morning I went through to get here,” I thought.

I let out a sigh and thought about slowing down, as I brought my attention back to the road, two bright lights, blurring my vision, were right in front of my eyes. I squinted,

“what the hell,” I said and then a loud horn beeped, and it kept beeping, like one continuous beep, it never stopped.

Instantaneously I realized it was a car, and that I or it was on the wrong side, either way we were coming to collide with each other and there was no time to change it, no time at all, not even a microsecond had passed. I loosened the firm grip I had on my phone and it fell, bounced off my lap, and then hit the floor. And then, smack! We hit, my body felt a wild, uncontrollable shudder, and it was the most unreal thing I had ever experienced. I was ejected from the car; the whole thing was out of my control.

I flew through the dash, through the steam that flooded the hood of my car. The other car had bounced back a few feet, giving me room as I landed about four feet to the right side of the wreckage, and I lay there a few seconds, unable to move. No sounds were heard, steam and smoke flooded all around my face which was stuck left cheek up. With my eyes to the pavement, I saw something in the few seconds I had. Something small, something rectangular shaped. It had colors on it, but I couldn’t make them out, my vision was still extremely blurred as the steam surrounded me more and more. I looked hard, and tried to focus, it was a car. No it couldn’t be,

“I must have a concussion,” I thought.

Could it have been Jake’s car? His beloved toy car that he brought with him every day; the one that he carried in his pocket, the one that he told me he dropped? Did it really follow me out here? Just to show me how stupid I was. To show me how it’s all the simple little things in our lives that we take for granted. If I had stopped for a second that morning, just to look at a text, could it have altered my entire morning? What if I answered when Bob called? What if I woke up on time? What if I slept in? What if I stopped to help Jake look for his car? Would I have then calmed down and took control of the situation? All these things that you think right before you die, they say your whole life flashes before your eyes, and I believe in its own way it does.

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