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The Mishap

Hudson Kerr

    Lara knew she shouldn’t have made a stop to get coffee, but she was tired and partly addicted to having something keep her going. She had less than an hour to make it across town to pick up her son or the day care would charge her by the hour. She hated uptown day care systems, but it was the cheapest thing near her job. Come on, she thought, as the happy cashier took her money.
    Lara bit her nails and smiled nervously at the customers in line. She looked past them at her car that was parked in a tow zone to make sure it hadn’t been ticketed. How much time did it take to make a latte? She could do it much faster. “Lara, is that you?” a voice asked behind her. Lara turned around and saw an old friend of the family. It was her mother’s friend, Donna McKean, the town gossip of a high and holy variety. For some reason, Mrs. McKean was an expert manipulator—the type of person that found it permissible to intrude on the intimacies of one’s daily life and walk away feeling satisfied, leaving her victims replete with transparency and confusion.
    Lara wanted to scream at her misfortune. “It’s been ages, I tell you. Just ages. How’s your mother?” she asked. Lara managed a weak smile. “She’s great,” she answered. There was a loud call for a vanilla latte and Lara excused herself. It was a miracle that the tiny coffee shop could save her from the beginning of a definite bad day. “It was great seeing you, Mrs. McKean,” she said, walking away. “Well, where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I need to go pick up my son,” Lara answered. “Still on your own, I see. I just told Mae the other day that you were just too fine a girl to be single. And having to raise a boy all by yourself. You know boys need a nice father-figure in their lives,” she added. Lara looked around at the patrons and the blood rushed to her face. “Was great seeing you,” she managed through clenched teeth and walked away.
    The wind whistled past her as she pushed the door open and stepped outside. There was a burly police officer putting a ticket on the car in front of hers, and she secretly wished it was Mrs. McKean’s. The wind tore through her wool coat as she unlocked the car and settled in. Lara saw a patron running outside of the coffee shop to dispute the ticket. She hit the gas and her car flew backwards, hitting the car behind her. The sound was as loud as she expected, and the police officer looked in her direction.
    Lara closed her eyes and cursed herself for getting out of bed that day. She pushed the car door open and went to survey the damage before the officer could. The unlucky patron continued to argue with him about the ticket, which would buy Lara time. There was very little damage to the car she hit, as it was an older model, but there was plenty of damage to hers. She ran to her car to grab a pen and paper to write down her details. Lara scribbled her information on her card and walked to the other car to tuck it in the windshield when she saw him. She let out a short gasp before walking around the car to look inside the backseat.
    Her eyes had not deceived her—it was a small boy, who looked around her son’s age, with his hands tied behind his back and duck tape over his mouth. He seemed to be unconscious. Lara was hysterical and beat against the window frantically, trying to wake him. The police officer walked over and tried to calm her down, but Lara found it difficult to speak. She cried and point at the car. “Ma’am, I see you’ve had a mishap here with this car—saw it myself actually. Now we can deal with this several ways, but I’m going to need you to get your license and registration,” he said.
    Lara shook her head and yelled at him to look in the car. A few more patrons emerged from the coffee shop and gathered around her car. “Ma’am, license and registration,” he said firmly. Lara hurried to the car and grabbed her registration. Her entire body shook at the horrific image of the boy. “Dave, is that you?” she heard. It was Mrs. McKean again. Lara closed her door, thrust the information into the officer’s hands, and walked over to try helping the boy again. “No, ma’am. You stay here,” he said. He waved at Mrs. McKean who walked over to the back of Lara’s car to investigate. She couldn’t make out the discourse, but heard the officer say, “Now, don’t you worry, Mrs. McKean. I’m taking care of this, so you just settle down.” Lara walked over to them, and Mrs. McKean looked at her emptily. “Davy, I know Lara, and there’s no damage to my car, so you just be on now,” she said.
    Tears streamed down Lara’s face and she screamed and yelled at the officer to look inside the car, that Mrs. McKean had hurt a little boy. He looked at her with incredulity. “Ma’am, if you don’t calm down, I’ll have to detain you for disturbing the peace,” he said. “Disturbing the peace? Look in the car, you freakin’ idiot!” Lara yelled. The officer was annoyed at the apparent lack of respect she had for authority and handcuffed her. Lara begged him to simply take a look, but he was already pushing her into the back of the patrol car. She hung her head at the situation. She thought about the boy and wept quietly as he pulled away from the curb.

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