Violence in Suburbia
what if the truth never comes up?
what if we never get away?
It's nine thirty when I stop cutting up magazines and decide I need a break. Joe owes me an ice cream cone and I decide that now is a good time to cash in.
When I ask him if he would come with me to get it, he groans in protest,
"but I don't have pants on!"
His excuse doesn't phase me. I can't go alond- but I really want that ice cream so...
"Yeah? Who cares? You never have pants on. Get dressed! I want my ice cream!"
He rolls his eyes at my childish behavior. I go out to the car humming 'Leni' and trying to decide if I should get rainbow or chocolate sprinkles.
Ralph's is dead when we get there. We place our orders and stand to the side as we wait.
All of a sudden I hear yelling from across the street. Joe and I look up and see people running out of the chinese take-out place.
A sudden [popping] noise echos through the vacinity.
My heart stops.
The four employees inside Ralphs, the customers that have accumulated outside with us, Joe and myself all stand very very still.
After a few more moments I get my ice cream from the only [guy] working inside. His confused female co-workers look nervous and scared.
While Joe waits for his milkshake the group of people in front of the Deli next door holler and yell in spanish.
I look across to the Chinese place and try to count how many times I've been in there.
I hear the sirens getting louder as help races closer and closer.
First the unmarked cop car speeds into the parking lot, going over the curb in the process.
I clench my left fist so tight my fingers begin to throb. In my right hand my ice cream begins to melt. My ears feel hot and clogged.
This is a tell tale sign that I am about to be in the throughs of a major panic attack. I haven't taken my xanax in months. The bottle sleeps quiety in the medicine cabinet next to the Multi-Vitamins.
A huge SUV pulls into the spot next to our car. A disheveled young woman emerges in a Ralphs uniform. She hangs up her cell phone and speaks to the girls behind the counter,
" That chinese place just got robbed! The guy ran off ...he had a gun...."
Joe doesn't seem to be bothered at all by this. I stand behind him and pull on his tee-shirt like a toddler.
"I want to go..." I mumble.
He tells me that everything is fine. After a moment he gets his milkshake and four police cars speed down the street. Their flashing lights make the back of my head throb.
The deli goup howls as the police drive by...
Joe senses my nervousness and offers to drive home. I let him without question.
I hold my breath as we drive home, taking in the air only when my lungs begin to burn...
I throw out my ice cream before we even get inside .