| Humor Fiction posted July 23, 2010 |
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It really was an honest mistake
Uh, Oh ...
by DeboraDyess
A Senior Moment Contest Winner
It had been a long day of shopping. Vivian gathered her bags in her arms, glanced up at the threatening sky and hurried toward the place where she'd parked her car. Straight out the Hobby Lobby main entrance, one row over from center and twenty-three spaces down. When she reached the area, she looked around.
No car, at least not the red Audi she'd hoped to find. The lot was full - more cars than she'd ever seen at the mall - but none of them in the area belonged to her.
She walked around, scanning every red vehicle she found. She started back for the Hobby Lobby, retracing her day, remembering her trip into the store's fabric section. As she walked back out to the twenty-third spot, one row away from center, it started to rain.
She sighed in exasperation and looked up at the sky, allowing the light patter of rain water to splash against her skin and run into her graying brown hair. Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she called for the mall office number, and when the option menu came on, pushed the button for security. "I thin my car's been stolen," she said. She gave them her location and hung up. As the phone went dark, tears filled her eyes and scampered down her cheeks. She didn't bother to brush them away, but stood in the light rain, allowing the hot tears to mix with the cool shower.
The security officer arrived almost immediately. He was young - probably younger than her son, she thought. He looked at her with that 'ah ... an old lady' look, took her vehicle information and loaded Vivian and her multitude of bags into his car. "We'll find it, ma'am," he assured her, his voice strong and calm. "It's pretty unusual for someone to steal a car here."
And so they drove from section to section searching for her red Audi. After three hours and two passes through the giant parking lot, even the adolescent security officer was ready to call it 'theft'. They returned to the security office, called the police and reported the crime. Together, they told the tale to the police.
Vivian called her husband, explaining tearfully what had happened. He rescued her from the mall-prison, took her home and cooked her dinner. Afterward, he rubbed her aching feet and babied her until bed.
"It'll be better by morning," he said. "You'll see. You didn't do anything wrong. You're the victim."
He was right, Vivian discovered. The insurance company settled quickly and soon she was back on the road, sporting a new red Audi.
Two weeks passed before the phone call came.
"Mrs. Michaels?" a strange voice said.
"Yes," Vivian answered, her voice light and cheerful.
"This is Chris Butler, down here at JCPenney's automotive in Redmond Mall."
Vivian cocked her head. Something felt horribly familiar, and horribly wrong. "Y-yes?"
"We have your car down here. It's been a couple of weeks and the oil's changed and the tires are rotated. We were wondering when you might be coming in to pick it up. We kind of need the bay space."
Vivian felt her mouth drop open and her eyes widen. "Uh, oh," she breathed.
Talk about your senior moment!
It had been a long day of shopping. Vivian gathered her bags in her arms, glanced up at the threatening sky and hurried toward the place where she'd parked her car. Straight out the Hobby Lobby main entrance, one row over from center and twenty-three spaces down. When she reached the area, she looked around.
No car, at least not the red Audi she'd hoped to find. The lot was full - more cars than she'd ever seen at the mall - but none of them in the area belonged to her.
She walked around, scanning every red vehicle she found. She started back for the Hobby Lobby, retracing her day, remembering her trip into the store's fabric section. As she walked back out to the twenty-third spot, one row away from center, it started to rain.
She sighed in exasperation and looked up at the sky, allowing the light patter of rain water to splash against her skin and run into her graying brown hair. Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she called for the mall office number, and when the option menu came on, pushed the button for security. "I thin my car's been stolen," she said. She gave them her location and hung up. As the phone went dark, tears filled her eyes and scampered down her cheeks. She didn't bother to brush them away, but stood in the light rain, allowing the hot tears to mix with the cool shower.
The security officer arrived almost immediately. He was young - probably younger than her son, she thought. He looked at her with that 'ah ... an old lady' look, took her vehicle information and loaded Vivian and her multitude of bags into his car. "We'll find it, ma'am," he assured her, his voice strong and calm. "It's pretty unusual for someone to steal a car here."
And so they drove from section to section searching for her red Audi. After three hours and two passes through the giant parking lot, even the adolescent security officer was ready to call it 'theft'. They returned to the security office, called the police and reported the crime. Together, they told the tale to the police.
Vivian called her husband, explaining tearfully what had happened. He rescued her from the mall-prison, took her home and cooked her dinner. Afterward, he rubbed her aching feet and babied her until bed.
"It'll be better by morning," he said. "You'll see. You didn't do anything wrong. You're the victim."
He was right, Vivian discovered. The insurance company settled quickly and soon she was back on the road, sporting a new red Audi.
Two weeks passed before the phone call came.
"Mrs. Michaels?" a strange voice said.
"Yes," Vivian answered, her voice light and cheerful.
"This is Chris Butler, down here at JCPenney's automotive in Redmond Mall."
Vivian cocked her head. Something felt horribly familiar, and horribly wrong. "Y-yes?"
"We have your car down here. It's been a couple of weeks and the oil's changed and the tires are rotated. We were wondering when you might be coming in to pick it up. We kind of need the bay space."
Vivian felt her mouth drop open and her eyes widen. "Uh, oh," she breathed.
Talk about your senior moment!
|
Writing Prompt Write a story that somehow involves one or more "senior moments". That's a momentary lapse in memory, particularly one experienced by a senior citizen. One thousand word limit. |
A Senior Moment Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
No, IT WASN'T ME!!
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