Abigail’s, A Little Piece of Heaven

“Ms. Charles are you alright, do you need assistance?” Not the OnStar voice! Now? Within minutes, a crowd and an array of vehicle colors surrounded the new sculpture added to the parking lot’s landscape island–my Verano. Two black-and-whites, the white, orange and blue of an EMS vehicle and what appeared as half the population of Eden Prairie staring at me was a most vivid memory as I was placed on a stretcher and covered with a blanket to conceal my second degree burns and lost dignity. I thanked God, realizing my accident could have been more serious and . . . pulled the blanket up over my face.

THE DAY HAD BEGUN with another hurried, getting-ready dance routine as I was intent to be out the door by seven. My shower shimmy guaranteed a few seconds saved while toweling off, and I had become adroit at applying moisturizer to my face while brushing my teeth. That morning my makeup consisted of the barest of essentials–my Bare Escentuals regimen. I wiggled into a favorite wrap dress, while performing a heel-hop jig as I skipped and stumbled into my pumps. Two dabs of hair gel, a couple of scrunches to set my natural curls, a few spritzes of my favorite scent, a scoop of jewelry items as I passed by my dresser, and I was headed towards the stairs. A dash to my powder room mirror while pulling on a complimentary colored cardigan, and with mascara wand in one hand and lip gloss in the other, my getting-ready dance routine was suddenly complete, and I was out the door–I was running late for my design appointment.

First stop, the drive-thru teller window. Thankfully, I had endorsed the design commission check and filled out the deposit slip the night before. With my purse on the front passenger seat and my Take a Moment, Savor Life canvas tote, that held my project notes and sketch pad, next to it, I was as well organized as possible. The traffic was sparse, surprisingly I caught all the stop-and-go lights green and being second in one of the drive-thru lanes assured I was no longer late. I had a few minutes to spare. . .

For the past few months, my younger son Jared had been suggesting I ditch my morning orange juice for a cup of coffee. No sugars, no calories and there are benefits to caffeine he assured. Starbucks is located next door to my TCF bank. Hmm, I pondered. That morning became the day.

My gaze had remained fixed on the menu board when the barista called out, “Next.” A short silence followed. “Ma’am, your next.” Her pleasant voice had refocused my attention.

“I’ll have a cup of coffee, please,” I stammered. The line behind me had quickly grown longer.

Until that morning, I am sure I had tasted coffee less than five times. My coffee tutorial was sudden, rudimentary and, most likely, not short enough for the regular customers.

Regular or decaf, Hawaii Ka’u, Jamaica Blue, Panama Paso Ancho, Sumatra Rasuna, blonde, medium or dark roast, small, medium or large? Help! I pleaded silently. The options seemed endless, and I am sure selling-up was part of her job description.

Nearly two dollars for a medium cup of house coffee? Yikes! A few extra minutes on my elliptical to burn off the calories from my morning OJ and my 401K would be substantially larger. Franchise coffee was expensive.

It’s open, the paper is off the windows, there’s a sign. My curiosity got the better of me. A quick left and then right turn and I was headed straight towards the Eden Prairie Center and the TGI Friday’s restaurant location that had been vacant for more than a year.

It was the name on the sign that induced my incredulously blurting out, “What?” Within seconds, I lost the grip on my coffee cup, burned my most private parts, erratically turned my car into the shrubbery and set in motion my unexpected visit to Urgent Care. Needless to say, I missed my design appointment. . .

THANKFULLY UNTIL THAT MORNING, I had never ridden in an EMS vehicle. With my face still buried beneath the blanket, praying for the pain to subside, and beginning to be gently rocked by the swaying motion of my unexpected ride, I felt alone and so embarrassed. Imagine the headlines in the Eden Prairie News Online and in the accompanying police report. Before my next breath, I promised once home to never leave again, Christine! Then the tears arrived. What had I done? I had lost my dignity, then my composure and sought the nearest life line–grasping at images that began to swirl in my head.

As I rewound and replayed scenes from Grey’s Anatomy, I created one of my own, an imaginary moment where Dr. McDreamy’s enchanting voice queried, “Are you alright Miss?” as he gently removed my woolen comfort. His dreamy, greenish-blue eyes and that smile made me feel all. . .

A screech, a jolt, a sudden stop, doors swung open, blinding bright lights and the eyes I was staring into were no longer his, they were brown and serious. . .

The pace quickened, stretcher wheels down and suddenly they began to spin, turning faster and faster. The air rushing over my face was refreshing, though the scent of hospital disinfectant was nauseating. Would I soon loose more than my dignity?

As I was unceremoniously transferred from stretcher to emergency room bed, my searing pain began to pulsate more rapidly and the darkest of clouds rolled in closer and closer. I could no longer hold back my tears, exhaled for what felt like the last time and collapsed into a less than supportive mattress. Was I fast falling to hell?

“Christine, is that you?” The familiar voice lodged, like a piton, in my mind and my death spiral imagery was momentarily arrested.

“Olivia?”