The wind curved around the buildings.
“Why does it always have to be chilly?” mumbled Edna to herself. The woman standing next to her glanced over and then looked away.
“I said why does it always have to be chilly,” said Edna louder. The woman tried to ignore her, but she could see her shift her weight uncomfortably. The woman was wearing an outfit that was simply not appropriate for the weather, even if it had caught the eye of more than one admirer waiting on the light to change.
Edna chuckled a bit to herself and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. She was glad the days of having to dress up to impress men were behind her. It really was chilly.
She’d walked seven blocks from the subway. The streets were crowded with people hustling back and forth to wherever they were going. As usual, Edna was happy to be out and about with slightly more purpose than riding in the nursing home bus to the grocery store.
On this particular walk, Edna had been unable to stop thinking about Gene Hackman, specifically Gene Hackman from The Conversation. The way he obsessed over the couple walking around the park, lurking just out of sight but always there. Edna was on a walk now. The thought of Gene Hackman obsessing over her every step made her smile.
“Gene Hackman could do far worse,” she said.
“Huh,” said the woman who had done her best to ignore Edna. Slightly embarrassed, Edna just smiled and shrugged. People decided to pay attention to the strangest things.
The street in front of her was by far the busiest street she had crossed so far. Traffic flew back and forth in a mangled, poorly planned three lane road. Someone honked and swerved around a car that was taking too long to make a right-handed turn. Edna shook her head. People simply didn’t have patience anymore.
The light in front of her changed, and Edna hesitated. She took a step forward and stumbled backwards. The world spun around her just a bit as she tried to focus on the other end. She still had forty seconds to cross the street. Plenty of time.
She tentatively reached her toe down from the curb towards the street and shifted her weight forward.
“Here. Let me help you,” said a man with short curly black hair. Edna immediately recognized him as one of the foolishly dressed woman’s admirers.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, son,” she said.
The man smiled at Edna and then made eye contact with the foolishly dressed woman who had noticed his chivalrous act. Edna hated being used as courting ritual catnip, but she did need to cross the street. No use kicking a gift horse in the mouth.
Edna slid her arms into the bend of the man’s elbow. They started the slow walk across the intersection. Edna’s feet wobbled again, and she leaned heavily into the man on her arm. Even through his jacket, she could feel the muscles in his arm work to keep her standing. Judging by the muscle shape, the man boxed at least three times a week and liked to do curls in his bedroom while watching television each night.
The sounds of the street mixed with an awkward silence as they walked. The man had clearly only offered to help Edna across the street to lure in the foolishly dressed girl, and now that they were walking, he didn’t have anything else to offer in terms of conversation. Edna had enough awkward silences already, so she decided to question the man on the most important topic on her mind at the moment.
“Have you ever seen The Conversation?”
“Can’t say that I have,” said the man without looking at Edna.
“Shame. It’s a classic,” she said. Her street crossing escort clearly had no culture, but he was fairly pretty. Hopefully, Gene was getting jealous in one of the buildings nearby.
“Guess I’ll have to watch it sometime,” said the man.
“You should,” said Edna. They were nearing the other end of the street. The final seconds were ticking away at the crosswalk. They stepped onto the other curb just as the light changed.
“Not many people would help an old woman these days. Thank you,” she said.
“I’m not many people,” said the man politely.
“I know,” said Edna, slipping her leg behind his and delivering a devastating blow to the man’s stomach that was nearly impossible to see even if you had been waiting to see it, which no one nearby had. Although she agreed you shouldn’t kick a gift horse in the mouth, a carefully placed elbow to the stomach was more than appropriate.
Surprised, the man fell backwards into traffic as the 29G bus, operated by bus driver Freddie Shea who tended to push the last changing light on his route each day a little too closely in an effort to get home in time for Jeopardy, slammed into him.
“Oh my,” said Edna, throwing her hands to her mouth. The bus screeched to a halt. People ran from every direction to help the man. All Edna could do was stand there.
“What happened,” asked the foolishly dressed woman.
“I don’t know. He was helping me and then he fell. Oh my goodness. How horrible,” said Edna.
Sirens rang out in the distance. The cops were on the way already. They must have been nearby because shortly after hearing the sirens, the lights appeared on the scene.
The police officers pushed the crowd back from the scene. They had to wait for the ambulance to be sure, but it was clear the man had not made it. He was gone. Freddie Shea stood in a heated conversation with the officers about what happened to cause the bus to collide with the kind gentleman that had been helping an elderly lady cross the street.
Edna slowly tried to back away from the scene through the growing crowd, but she saw the foolishly dressed woman talking to a police officer. The officer glanced over at Edna, and she knew that it was too late. She’d been spotted. Trying to get away now would only look suspicious.
“Edna, woman over there says you were here when this happened. Why does that not surprise me?” asked Officer Klenchky.
“I don’t know, Officer ‘Kolache.’ Just a shame. He was a good man. He’d just helped me cross the street.”
“Edna, for the last time, my name is Klenchky.”
“Sorry. I know that, but you’ve always been so sweet to me, it reminds me of my childhood. My mother would make the most delicious kolaches, just as sweet as you.”
The officer tried not to crack a smile, but Edna could see the wiggle around his lips. He was a good guy at heart, and good guys were always the easiest to distract. She took it back. Gene Hackman probably couldn’t handle her. What she really needed was a man like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. Now there was a man that was passionate and handsome even on the run.
“Is there a reason you didn’t try to help him or call the police?”
“Help him? I’m not a doctor. I needed the help. Scared me half to death, and I couldn’t find a pay phone.”
“Cell phones, Edna. I know you have a cell phone. I’ve seen it.”
“Oh. I always forget about that.”
She pulled a cell phone out of her purse.
“Look. See. It doesn’t even work. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
“It’s missing the battery, Edna. What’d you do with it?”
Edna threw her hands up in disgust.
“Battery. What am I supposed to do with a battery? This is my grandson’s fault. He keeps telling me he is going to teach me about this thing, but I still don’t get it.”
The officer shook his head. The presence of more flashing lights indicated that the ambulance had arrived.
“It’ll work better with the battery. I’ve got to deal with this. Are you alright getting home from here?”
“Oh yes. I’m not that old you know,” she said, pointing a finger at his nose. Officer Klenchky gave her back her phone and walked towards the ambulance.
As Edna rounded the block out of site, she pulled out a can of portable Lysol from her purse. She sprayed down the entire length of her arm that the man had touched. The man who’d helped her across the street was Ivan Victok. She’d read his file and wanted none of that man’s germs to linger on her any longer than necessary. As for the ill-fated bus driver, Officer Klenchky would no doubt discover more than Freddie Shea’s love for Jeopardy! in their ongoing investigation.
Edna sniffed her arm. It smelled like clean fabrics. Whoever invented Lysol was a very smart man. She wondered if he looked anything like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive.
Satisfied with her now disinfected sleeve, she reached into her purse to pull out her cell phone battery. Snapping it back into place, she held the number one to speed dial her grandson. She’d just thought of a delicious kolache variation she wanted to try this weekend.
