A woman on a walker is wedged between two parked cars. How she got there is a mystery. I’m late for the dentist and scurry on by, but when I get to the corner, turn, and see she’s still there.
I think, fuck my bi/annual check-up, that could be me in a few years, and go back.
She’s pretty, in her 70s at least, with white hair like my Polish grandmother had, wreathed in a bluish tint enhanced by the sun. I notice pearls in her ears and a wedding band that looks soldered on her weathered hand.
I have the passing thought, if only jewels could talk, before asking if she needs help.
She gives me the deer in the headlights look I know only too well and says, “I need to cross the street, but I’m afraid. Will you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help you.” Yeah, go ahead, blow your nose since it will compliment the lump in my throat the size of Cleveland.
I offer her my arm which she takes, and we slowly, and I mean slowly, mosey across.
A cab has to wait, so I’m expecting a tirade to break out, but instead, this middle-aged man in a paisley turban called from the window, “Need help?”
Yes, that lump just got a little bigger.
When I bid farewell to my new lady friend, I see I have a voicemail.
Hello, this is Mary from Madison Dental Group, you have an appointment, and we’re waiting for you.
sit on it Mary.