Page 4 of Crashing Into Me
Lana loved their accents—it always tickled her when they spoke.
“No, I’ll be ordering to go tonight, please,” she replied.
“Well, alright then, if you'd like, have a seat at the counter, and I’ll be right with you to take your order, okay,” her armextended to the bar stools up against the counter in front of the kitchen.
“Okay, thank you,” Lana replied, and in a Nanosecond, the waitress was gone to help other customers.
The diner was like any you would see on TV. Jukebox in the corner, album memorabilia hung on the walls, and even a few autographed celebrity pictures. The plush booths were green and white, with wooden table tops and the walls had wood paneling on the bottom with floral cream-colored wallpaper on the top. The windows were large, granting a beautiful panoramic view of the town outside.
The first time Lana had visited, there was a McDonald’s being erected right across from the diner. Most restaurant owners in big cities may have been worried, but not Aunt Mae. When the local TV news interviewed her at the diner and asked how she felt about it, she smiled and replied, “It won’t last a month,” tossing her dish towel over her shoulder and bustling back into the kitchen.
Aunt Mae was the cutest thing Lana had ever seen. She was about five-foot-one, Black and sassy in her mid-sixties, but she didn’t have a wrinkle on her face. She had an exuberant personality and always wore a huge smile on her face. Mae wasn’t overweight or skinny, however, her bosom and posterior made her look larger than she was. As predicted, by the time summer came to an end, the McDonald’s was shut down and converted into a general store.
Lana could see Aunt Mae through the window in the kitchen door, bossing around the sous chef staff. She ran a tight ship, and it showed in every meal. On the counter in front of her, there was an array of cake stands with dark chocolate, red velvet, and a strawberry-frosted cake. Her mouth watered instantly sitting so close to them as hungry as she was. Next to those were other stands with every pie you could imagine.
Lana was already deciding which ones she wanted to try, but before she could form another thought, the waitress was back with her pad in hand. As much as she visited the diner in her past visits, this was the first time she’d seen her. Lana noticed the name “Rachel” was scrawled on the hot pink badge, and she made a mental note to remember it. She felt it was only polite to use the names of the people serving you.
“What'll you have this evenin' sugar?” Rachel asked.
“Hi Rachel, I’d like the chicken pot pie and a slice of pumpkin pie, please.”
“Good choices. I’ll be right back with your order in two shakes of a lamb's tail,” she replied, tapping Lana on the shoulder with the pad and a grin on her face.
It wasn’t forced or phony like you sometimes get in the city because the waitress wanted a good tip. You could tell she loved her job and was probably a happy person in general. Rachel marched over to the kitchen window and placed her ticket on the order wheel. Watching the people in the restaurant and seeing the smiles and laughter, she could feel the love of this community. Hamby always brought out those feelings in her when she arrived. It was like she was coming home, like nothing in her regular life could touch her there.
Then, the windows started to vibrate as loud music blasted from the street, something that was very un-Hamby- like and forced everyone in the restaurant to pause and look out the window. That black McLaren! She recognized it immediately. It swerved through the roundabout too fast, taking out a park bench, and was speeding towards the diner. As it got closer, the high beams cast the colors of the stained glass door, spewing beams of green, red, and yellow lights through the windows, blinding her.
When she adjusted her eyes, the lights grew more intense, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop! Everything appearedto be moving in slow motion now as she saw what was unfolding in front of her. Rachel, carrying her take-out order, looked toward the lights and shielded her eyes while she stood in front of the entrance door. Before she could react, her face froze with horror as she realized what was going to happen next, and it was already too late.
All the color drained from her thin face as the car crashed through the double doors, into the podium, and then into Rachel—the bag in her hand flying one way, as she disappeared under a sea of shattered glass and wood, the car stopping before it ran her over completely. As the chaos unfolded in front of Lana, she was frozen for a moment like one of the animals in the La Brea Tar Pits, her eyes not believing what was happening. She usuallytreatedvictims after something like this, but never witnessed anything like it first-hand. She finally collected herself, jumped off the barstool, and ran towards Rachel.Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
The podium that was in front of the door was now in pieces, and they were on top of Rachel. Lana started pulling them away and didn’t realize just how heavy it was. It was made of real wood, so it was harder than it looked, and she had to use some serious upper-body strength to get it to budge. People in the diner were screaming and running as far away from the car as they possibly could.
Some were in obvious shock, their eyes transfixed on the wreckage, and stood unmoved. The few children there were crying and clutching their parents, while some people attempted to go around the car and leave the building. It was madness! Lana got the last piece of wood off of Rachel’s face finally and saw her moving.
“Are you OK, Rachel?” Lana asked.
Aunt Mae flew out of the kitchen, the door slamming the wall so loud it sounded like a shotgun going off.
“What in the blazes of hell is going on?” she yelled, then stopped as she saw Lana bending over Rachel. The car was between where her front door used to be and the dining room.
“Turn off the gas!” she screamed, running back into the kitchen, waving her oven mitt in the air.
Although most of the damage was in the front of the building and unlikely a gas leak would happen, it was better to be safe than sorry. Sturdy architecture. Lana couldn’t help but think how much worse this might have been if the building were in disrepair. She studied Rachel to assess her injuries, and there was a gaping gash on her forehead, the crimson of her blood oozing down her face. She was trying to sit up, but Lana dropped to her knees and held her down to stop her.
“No, don't move. We don't know what other injuries you could have, and you may make it worse,” Lana said in a huff and lowered her back to the floor.
“I'm OK, my leg just hurts like hell,” Rachel managed to get out.
Lana looked down at her lower body. It was still covered in a large piece of wood from the entrance door. She crawled over to it and carefully and slowly removed the wood. Only then did she see part of Rachel’s femur bone protruding out of her thigh. This is really bad.If she doesn’t get to a hospital fast, she could lose her leg or bleed out and die right here.Lana, now in full nurse mode, searched the room with her eyes and spotted a man standing and watching them, the color gone from his face. She pointed to him.
“You, call nine-one-one, now!” she barked. He was startled by her tone, but snapped out of his fixation and fumbled with his cell phone.
“No! Use the land-line, it'll be faster,” she continued.
He nodded his head in submission and ran behind the counter. He slipped on something but caught himself before hehit the ground.Probably my pot pie dinner.He steadied himself on the edge of the counter and grabbed the rotary phone on the wall. Lana reached for a broken chair leg and took off her sweater.
She stood and walked back to the counter, leaned over, and grabbed a knife. She started ripping the sweater into strips. The man she sent to call the police touched her arm, and she spun around, the knife inches from his chest.
