"Is 'Uh, yeah' all you've got?" she asked.
"No."
"Okay. I'll go first." She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, before continuing. "I just wanted to say—"
I leaned forward, my hand resting on the side of her face, my thumb stroking her temple, and I kissed her.
Her eyes flew open wide for a split second and then she relaxed, reaching out to tangle her fingers in my hair and pull me closer. It was a spicy-Mexican-food-turkey-jerky flavored kiss, and it was pure bliss. We pulled apart to catch our breaths, our foreheads touching.
She smiled and said, "You're such a dork."
"I couldn't agree more." And I kissed her again.
As much as I would have loved to stay in the parking lot outside Taco John's, smooching all afternoon, it was impossible.
Elyse had to meet her mom and sister at a bridal shop for dress fittings or something like that. Her sister, Jenny, was getting married in a couple of months and the ladies of the Kelly clan were in full wedding planning mode.
I also had to get to work, and if I didn't stop kissing Elyse in the next five minutes, I would be late for my shift.
"I've gotta go," Elyse said, a little out of breath.
"Yeah, me too," I agreed.
Neither one of us wanted to let go, though. It was as if we had saved up years of kisses and wanted to get them all out right then, right there, in the Corolla.
"Seriously," she said.
"Right," I agreed.
She reached behind herself and opened the door, sliding sideways on the seat. I followed her as she stepped backward out of the car, still bent over kissing me ferociously. I held in her in place for one more moment and then let her go.
She stood up and took a deep breath, shaking her arms and head out. "I can tell I'm super flushed. How's my neck? Is it all red? My mom will know exactly what I've been doing."
"No problem. Tell her it was with me. Your mom loves me." I reached through the open door to grab hold of her hips and pull her back, but she jumped out of my reach.
"You are a bad boy. I need to leave, and you're going to be late for work."
"I don't care."
"Yes, you do. How close are you to reaching the total for your surf trip?"
She knew me so well. I'd been saving everything I could for the past year, intending to take a month-long surfing safari through the Pacific islands before starting school in the Fall. It would be the first thing I could cross off my bucket list. Actually, kiss Elyse was the first thing I could cross off the list, and until Saturday I hadn't even realized it had been on the list.
"Go. Go before my twelve-year-old boy brain overrules my eighteen-year-old man brain."
I shut the car door, so we'd have a barrier between us, and I crooked my finger at her through the open window.
She leaned down, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and then skipped back. "That's it. Call me as soon as you get off of work."
"Absolutely. It'll be around seven."
"Orson."
Crap, she sounded all serious again.
"Yeah?"
"You're a fantastic kisser." She winked at me and spun around, almost skipping to her car.
Oh, man, I was in trouble. Elyse Kelly had me body, mind, and soul. I watched her get into her car, blow me a kiss, and drive away. I sat in the passenger seat for a few more moments. Eyes closed. I could still feel her lips. Yep, I was in trouble, and then I laughed - a deep, happy, belly laugh. I jumped back in the driver's seat and headed to work.
I work twenty to thirty hours a week at the local Costco. I was lead on one of the stock teams. It wasn't hard work, and the pay was great for a college kid like me. I ran into Tony, one of the other leads, punching in at the time-clock.
"Hey, Reid, that's a huge smile you've got on your face," Tony observed.
A couple of other co-workers were in earshot and turned in our direction at his comment. I tried to stop smiling, but I swear that only made me smile bigger.
"Oh no, Reid. There's only one reason a guy ever smiles like that. What's her name, brother?"
Tony was smiling now too. We were always teasing each other, and he smelled blood in the water. I shook my head this was going to be a long shift.
"I'm just happy to be here, my man," I said.
"Uh, huh."
Luckily for me, we had to get to work. It was delivery day, and several pallets worth of canned goods were waiting on the loading dock. Stocking a warehouse store like Costco was nothing like stocking shelves at a local supermarket; it didn't take a forklift to restock ten boxes of Lucky Charms. We moved all of our goods on pallets and something like the fifty cases of chili Tony was maneuvering onto an overhead shelf weighed in at several hundred pounds easy. I was guiding him in; he was a pro, taking it slow and easy.
I've heard stories about people who lived through life-threatening emergencies describe everything as moving in slow motion. I had tried to imagine what that would be like, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. There was no time to react. There was an earsplitting metallic screech, and the forklift tilted sideways. And, I kid you not, it seemed to move in slow motion.
I knew by the angle that the pallet was going to slide off. It was going to be really messy and really loud, but there were no customers nearby, and I was standing back far enough that I would be safe from being crushed. That's when Tony tried to stop the pallet from falling by throwing the forklift into reverse and spinning the wheel. It wasn't a bad idea, and it allowed me to see what had caused the original problem — one of the hydraulics on the forklift was trashed. I'm sure at the forklift center for safety, if there is such a place, this would be considered a catastrophic failure. The second thing I noticed was that the forklift was now toppling over, along with the pallet. This would have only added to the mess but because Tony was safety strapped in to his seat, he was going to have a hard landing and maybe even crush something vital.
I moved before I could think whether it was a good idea or not. Since everything was moving in weird emergency slow-mo, my mind calculated distances and vectors. I knew how to stop Tony and myself from being turned into paste by hundreds of pounds of wood and metal. The pallet was going to hit the ground to the front left of the forklift. The forklift would then finish its sideways topple, half on, half off the remains of the pallet. There would be a clear space where I could stand and catch Tony (or at least grab him as he fell) and pull him back and to the side. It could work, and we might both get away without major injury. The laws of physics, however, have a way of ruining even the best-laid plans, so a plan made in a split second while running toward a manmade avalanche had a very slim chance of working. I watched the path the pallet was following get altered when it hit a lower shelf. Its new path was directly toward the space I was currently occupying, hoping to catch or grab Tony.
What would you do if hundreds of pounds of chili were hurtling toward your head? Probably the same thing I did, which was to instinctively throw my hand out to push it away before it crushed me.
The weird thing is it worked.
It was as if a large cardboard box full of those Styrofoam peanuts had been falling towards me, instead of giant body-squishing storage pallet stacked with fifty cases of Dinty Moore Chili. I pushed the pallet to the side, sending it crashing into floor beside me, caught Tony with my other arm, and jumped. Now, when I say jumped, I mean a standing jump while holding a one-hundred-and-ninety pound man in one arm. I cleared the pallet, the forklift, and gained a few feet of clear space. I dropped Tony, looked over my shoulder at the disaster area, and fainted.
CHAPTER 3
I opened my eyes. I was lying in the aisle where I blacked out. Yes, I prefer blacked out to fainted. It seems more accurate. There was a small crowd of people standing around me - Becky, the store manager, Steve, one of the assistant managers, and Tony.
"There is an ambulance on the way, Orson," said Becky.
An ambulance? Oh crap. I sat up.
"I don't have internal injuries. I don't have any injuries. I think I blacked out from the adrenalin rush or something."
"You totally saved my butt, man," said Tony.
He looked how I felt. Totally strung out on almost dying. Fight or flight: it's a real thing. I stood up and Becky made a hissing sound, shaking her head.
"Becky, really, I'm okay. Just a little shook up."
"Doesn't that hurt?" Steve asked.
I looked at him, confused, and he pointed at my arm. I looked down and almost blacked out again. My entire left forearm was an angry black bruise. It looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to my arm. I touched it lightly with my fingers. Oh yeah, that was sore. "Um, yeah it's a little tender."
Jill, one of the cashiers, came rushing around the corner with two paramedics in tow.
She pointed at me and said, "Oh. He's up. The blond guy with the banged-up arm."
"I'm okay. Really."
The paramedics insisted on checking Tony and me for any other obvious injuries. Blood pressure, light in the eyes for pupil dilation, a few questions like "what day is it?" and "how many fingers am I holding up?". Satisfied that nobody was in imminent danger of dying, they strongly suggested that I get my arm x-rayed. I didn't want to go to the hospital, but Becky wouldn't take no for an answer. She insisted on driving me. I objected over the fact I would have to leave my car.
"Orson. We are going to the hospital. Right now. End of story."
I could tell I would not win, so I gave in. Tony kept thanking me for saving his life. Coworkers waved, a few clapped and shouted encouragements as Becky and Tony walked me out to her car.
"Way to go, Superman!"
"Tony isn't worth it, man."
I laughed. This was unreal.
"All I did was push you out of the way. No offense, but you don't weigh all that much."
"Yeah. Well, how much do you think that pallet weighs?"
I looked down avoiding his eyes.
"All I had time to do was get the seat belt off and pray. I knew I was going to get crushed. I just didn't know how bad it was going to be. And then, bam! There you were."
Tony stopped walking, which caused me to slow and look over at him. His eyes were wide. "You tossed that pallet aside, Reid. Like it was made of nothing."
"I know it looked that way, but the bulk of its weight hit something else, the shelf or something." I held up my arm and continued, "That's why this wasn't pulverized into jello."
"I know what I saw, Reid. You saved my life."
"We need to get Orson to the hospital," said Becky.
Tony held out his hand and when I reached out to shake it, he pulled me into a one-armed bro-hug. I gave him a couple of smacks on the back and he let me go.
Becky and I continued to the car. My mind was racing. I played the accident over and over in my head, and I knew against all logic and reason that Tony was right. I had used my arm to whack aside several hundred pounds and only received a bruise for the effort. And Tony hadn't mentioned it . . . maybe the arm thing had all of his attention . . . but what about that completely impossible jump? What the hell was going on?
CHAPTER 4
If you ever want to skip the line at the emergency room, just show up with an arm that looks like it was smashed under a boulder and they will usher you right in. Not only did I get an x-ray, but the doc also ordered an MRI, as she couldn't believe there was no internal damage.
"Mr. Reid, you are very lucky man. You'll be black and blue, probably for a week or two if the bruising is any indication, but I don't foresee any other complications."
"Great. Is there anything I can do to help the bruising along?"
"No. It will fade on its own. There's no way to rush it. I'll order a prescription for some pain medication: Tylenol with codeine, take as needed, not to exceed three a day."
"Got it. Thanks again, Doc."
"You're welcome."
She gave me a firm handshake and left me to get dressed. My arm was already feeling a little better. The pain had subsided to a dull throb, instead of the sharp pain I'd been experiencing earlier.
I checked my phone. I had a text from Tony asking what the doctor had said about my arm. Nothing from Elyse: I wasn't expecting anything, but I was glad I didn't have to explain why I was at the hospital. It would be hard enough keeping her from freaking when she saw my arm in person. The same went for my Aunt Tina when she got a good look. I decided the best course of action would be to send a text, giving her a heads up and hopefully defusing as much of her worry as I could.
Hey, had little accident at work.
Bruised up my arm good. No serious damage.
I'm ordering Indian, see you later.
She replied instantly. I love her, but Aunt Tina is predictable. She is usually a calm person, but any kind of sickness or injury in a loved one spun her out pretty quickly.
What? Are you sure you're okay?
I responded with my signature sunglasses emoji. She would still worry a little until she could see my arm with her own eyes, but at least she wouldn't rush out of work, missing her client meeting. I also texted Tony, letting him know the x-ray was clear.
My last stop before escaping the emergency room was the nurse's station to check out. The nurse brought up my record, checked a few of the boxes, and hit print. I was studying the photos she had taped around her workstation, shots of her on some awesome looking beaches. I was pretty sure Fiji and maybe even Tonga were represented. The nurse turned to the printer to grab my paperwork, and when she turned back, I registered her face in my peripheral vision. It was a twisted monster face! Her mouth was too big, full of what looked like rows of shark teeth, her eyes black like a doll's. I flinched back, a small whimpering sound escaping my mouth. When I focused both eyes on her face, it was normal.
Her smile faltered, I'm sure due to my strange reaction. "Are you okay, Mr. Reid?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Arm just twinged on me."
She smiled and handed over my paperwork.
I studied her face and the face of the nurse behind her. They both looked normal. No monster faces. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I was just tired from the physical and mental stress of the accident. Some kind of short term micro-PTSD.
"The Tylenol Dr. O'Donnell prescribed will help with that. Remember to take it easy for the rest of the day. Keeping the arm elevated will also help with the swelling."
"Thank you."
Becky was sitting in the waiting room, concentrating on something on her cell. Probably playing Angry Birds. She looked up, as I approached. "All done? What did the doctor say? Is your arm going to be okay?"
"Yes, just a bruise, and yes," I replied with a smile.
"Huh?"
"You asked three questions, and I answered all of them. Yes, just a bruise, and yes."
"Oh. Funny."
"Thanks for making me come to the hospital and thanks for waiting with me," I said, with all sincerity.
She gave me big smile. "You're very welcome."
She insisted on pulling the car around while I waited. I eased myself into the seat, doing my best not to bump my arm against anything. Becky seemed a little tense on the drive back to the store. Her usual non-stop assessment of the store and her performance and the staff's performance was replaced by an unsettled quiet.
She pulled into the Costco lot and parked right next to the Corolla. She let out a large sigh and turned in her seat to face me. "I'm sorry about this, Orson, but Regional says I have to ask sooner than later."
"Ask what?"
She answered, the words coming out in such a rush I almost didn't follow her. "Are you planning on holding the store responsible?"
"Um. For what?"
"Your arm."
Then my mind cleared enough to understand the question. She, and apparently the Regional office, were worried I would sue.
"Absolutely not. No way,
" I said.
She let out a huge breath, her shoulders visibly relaxed and said, "Great. I mean good, thank you. The company will, of course, cover all the medical expenses from today and any others that may accrue."
"I think I'm good, but thanks for the info. I'll let my Aunt Tina know."
"Um. Do you think your Aunt will agree with you?"
Wow. Becky was worried. I guess it made sense. A sue-happy person could probably get a million dollar settlement for the kind of accident that went down. I wondered if Tony was thinking about suing. He hadn't received any physical damage, but the right kind of lawyer could work up a whole emotional angle that could shake some cash loose.
"Yeah, Aunt Tina will be cool. No worries. Seriously."
Becky let out another enormous sigh and smiled at me. "Thank you, Orson." She patted my leg. "I will credit your time card for today and tomorrow, but I don't want you to come in."
I started to protest.
"Hush. You're going to take tomorrow off. I think you're not scheduled again until Friday, correct?" I nodded, and she continued, "That will give you two full days of rest. And when you come back, no heavy lifting until your arm is back at one hundred percent. Got it?"
"Got it," I said.
"Okay. Now go home and get some rest."
"Thanks again, Becky."
Before I pulled out of the Costco parking lot, I called the dinner order in to the restaurant, figuring it would almost be ready by the time it would take me to drive over, and I could save the delivery charge by picking it up. I was standing at the counter waiting to pay for my dinner when the owner came out to greet me; we'd been eating here for years. His eyes went wide at the sight of my arm.
"It looks worse than it feels," I assured him.
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