Dinner, Interrupted

(Originally published - The Shine Journal September 2008)


Nathan arrived home at the usual time and changed into sweats. Aside from being wet from the drizzle outside and the humdrum of the office, it was not a bad day. Sounds emanated from the television in the living room as he came downstairs from the bedroom. He peeked in.

"Where's your mother?" he asked his daughter, Jessie.

"At Aunt Carla's. Book club or something, remember?" she said, without looking away from the screen.

"Oh. Right."

He went into the kitchen and found a mostly bare refrigerator. An orange. A carton of milk. Half of an apple pie. A few condiments. There was plenty in the freezer, but he was too hungry to thaw anything. "Did you eat yet?" he called from the kitchen.

"Yeah. Angela's mom made mac and cheese."

"Still hungry?"

"No."

He rummaged through the pantry. There must be something there he could eat. The television emitted excited noises from the other room.

"What are you watching?"

"Some car chase. They say it's happening right now."

Nathan listened from the kitchen as he settled on a can of tuna fish scavenged from the pantry. A reporter was speaking while he brought out the mayo and bread to make a sandwich.

"...that's right Dan," said the reporter over the din of rotating blades, "We're here in the WXTV helicopter, your Eye in the Sky, above the scene as it's unfolding. An unidentified man has stolen the Ford Mustang you see here on the screen and is now involved in a dangerous chase with police on this busy stretch of highway. We can see two cruisers trying to pull up to him, but the Mustang keeps cutting them off. He's going extremely fast, probably exceeding 100 miles per hour. The other cars on the highway look stationary in comparison. Let's just hope this all comes to a safe--Oh wow--"

The reporter in the helicopter went on to describe in detail the near collision the Mustang had with a tractor trailer as it tried to evade the police once again. Nathan finished making the sandwich as the man chattered excitedly on, his voice climaxing to a crescendo by the time he was done putting away the mayonnaise and bread.

"Sweetheart, can you turn that down?" he asked, but heard no answer over the volume and the reporter sounded like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

"--there is no way he can maintain these speeds off the highway like this. Even the police are having a hard time just keeping close to him without adding any more danger to the situation. JESUS CHR--"

Nathan placed the sandwich on a plate on the kitchen table and entered the living room. He tapped his daughter on the shoulder. "I think I'm going deaf," he said.

"Oh. Sorry." Jessie momentarily unglued her eyes from the television and turned it down. "You should've seen it dad! The guy almost ran someone over in a supermarket parking lot! He knocked the grocery cart across the entire street. There was stuff everywhere!"

Nathan saw the car fishtail taking a perilous turn onto a small residential street. Something was bothering him, and it took him a second to realize that the corner store of that street looked familiar. As the helicopter's camera followed the Mustang down the street, he spotted some other things that looked awfully familiar, including a house with black shutters and a blue Toyota Camry in the driveway.

"--coming down this narrow street. He better watch out for those puddles," continued the muted reporter. "One misstep and he can spin out of control, hydroplaning into--"

Jessie squinted at the screen. "Isn't that our--"

Then came a shattering crash from the kitchen. Father and daughter raced into the kitchen to find a fire-red Ford Mustang crumpled inside their house after obliterating the wall that faced the street. Debris was strewn everywhere, including the groaning driver, who was thrown through the windshield and across the room directly onto the kitchen table, where the tuna sandwich had been.

"Now what am I going to eat?" was all Nathan managed to say.