Mona

CHAPTER ONE

Clara 2017

        “Hold onto your horses,” Miss Clara shouts at the beeping car as she crosses the parking lot. Her arms are laden with packages. She pushes the button on her key chain to open the trunk. Young people cannot seem to pack a simple grocery bag, she laments as she rescues a loaf of bread from beneath the canned corn. Seriously, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that heavy things go on the bottom and lighter items on top now does it? They just don’t train them the way they used to, she thinks.

        Inside the car, she rests her head on the back of the seat and closes her eyes. At 86, it takes much more out of her than it did a few years ago to do even the simplest of errands. Her hand tremors with age as she wriggles her keys into the ignition. She places her arm on the back of the passenger seat and checks behind her. Rearview mirrors are not always reliable. Still looking over her shoulder, Miss Clara presses the gas pedal. The car jolts forward. Before she can switch her foot to the brake, her Toyota Camry plunges grill first into the floral stand outside the supermarket.

        “Oh my God! Are you okay?” A young voice tinged with panic shouts from somewhere.

        Miss Clara squints. It takes her a moment to realize the voice is talking to her.

        “Ma'am? Are you alright?” The young voice has opened her driver-side door and is poking its head in at her.

        “What? Yes? I’m fine. I'm not sure what happened. I…” Miss Clara trails off, trying to gain her bearings.

        “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should call an ambulance or something.”

        Miss Clara does not understand why the voice is making such a fuss. “No need. I’m quite alright.”

        “Well, if you are sure.”

        “Excuse me, Miss. If you wouldn’t mind.” It’s a man’s voice.

        The woman belonging to the young voice backs away and an older balding gentleman, wearing the uniform of the grocery store kneels beside her.

        “Now don’t move. I’ve called for help.”

        “I don’t need any help, thank you kindly.” Miss Clara says righting herself in the seat.

        “With all due respect, Ma'am, the front half of your automobile is imbedded in our floral display. It’s lucky no one was picking out plants at the time.”

        Miss Clara startles. “What happened?”

        “You had an accident.”

        “Oh my Lord!” She brings a hand to her mouth. "Was anybody hurt?”

        The balding man’s face crumples in confusion. Sirens wail in the background.